Resolutions Are Relative

resolutionsIt’s the second week of the new year, and that iron resolve we made our New Year’s Resolutions with is showing a little metal fatigue.  Carrot sticks don’t taste as good as Mars Bars.  Three flights of stairs is a long way.  And family get-togethers are actually a pain in the ass.  However, you don’t have to beat yourself up over your lack of will power or drown yourself in a bottomless pool of self loathing.  All you have to do is explain to your Inner Puritan that this is the real world, and in the real world, real things happen.  Let me help.  Here are a few tidbits to tell those holier-than-thou voices inside your head — that’ll shut them up.

 

Chocolate has always been a good friend of mine.  In these troubled times, it would be totally rude if I turned my back on chocolate.

BuzzFeed said that people who swear a lot are more intelligent than ordinary people.  Sounds legit.

Wine is made from grapes, and grapes are fruit, and fruit is healthy — right?  Fruit is healthy!

Exercise? … Extra fries?  I always get those two mixed up.

Screw the French and their irregular verbs.  If they had anything decent to say, they’d say it in English.

One pair of slingbacks won’t kill anybody.  Besides, shoes are a necessity.  Even nuns wear shoes.

If I reorganize the hall closet, I’m going to have to find a place for the golf clubs I bought last year.  But if I find a new place for the golf clubs I bought last year, I’m going to have to move something else.  But I can’t do that unless I get a bigger apartment with more storage.  A bigger apartment with more storage is going to cost me tons of money.  So, if I don’t reorganize the hall closet, I’m going to save tons of money!

Golf is a stupid game.

If I spend all weekend watching The Fall on Netflix, that’s not actually binge-watching; it’s dealing with my procrastination and self discipline problems — especially if I start on Friday immediately after work and finish all three seasons.

And finally, one of my favourites:

But if I don’t go on Facebook every day, all my friends will think I’m mad at them.

Time Flies 2017

time-2017If you’re old enough to read this blog, you’re old enough to remember a time when 2017 was nothing more than a vague rumour.  It was part of that great bundle of stuff we always call “the future” or “someday” or “soon.”  But, hang around long enough, folks, and suddenly “someday” is now and the future is bright, bold and in your face.  Time has a tendency to do that.  The minute you’re not watching, it either sneaks up on you or disappears entirely.  Let me demonstrate:

In last year’s American election, the kids who voted for the 1st time to determine who was going to run the show in the United States weren’t even going to kindergarten on the morning of 9/11.  They aren’t aware of a world that doesn’t include social media or a War on Terror.  To them, the songs of Prince and George Michael are Golden Oldies.

Their parents, however, grew up in a time before Osama Bin Laden, George W. Bush and Barack Obama.  As kids, they never heard of iPods, Smart Phones, Facebook or Twitter.  They probably weren’t old enough to go to the movies by themselves, and therefore didn’t see Princess Leia kiss her brother, Luke.  And they knew Alan Rickman as Hans Gruber, not Severus Snape.

Meanwhile, their parents grew up during the Cold War, when there were two Germanys, divided by a wall — and two Americas, divided by the Vietnam War.  A quiet guy from Ohio stepped off a ladder and onto the Moon.  David Bowie was Ziggy Stardust, Patty Duke was Helen Keller and Merle Haggard was proud to be an Okie from Muskogee.

And finally, at the end of our living memory, their parents never did figure out Disco.  They listened to Frank Sinatra (and maybe his son Frank Jr.) on vinyl, 8-track, cassette, compact disc and that music thing that their great granddaughter has.  They remember Colonel Glenn blasting off and splashing down.  To them, Zsa Zsa was more famous for doing nothing than Paris Hilton ever was for doing things badly.  And, of course, long before she was Carrie Fisher’s mother, Debbie Reynolds was Singin’ In The Rain.

So hiya, 2017!  I have no idea how you got here so quickly, but I’m old enough to know I’d better enjoy the hell out of you while I can — because before I know it, you’re going to be history.

Happy New Year 2017

new-year-2017

Goodbye, 2016 — you 12 month, piece of junk.  You were a year written by George R.R. Martin and I, for one, won’t be missin’ ya.  Unfortunately, among all the “Happy New Years,” there are a bunch of people predicting that it’s only going to get worse in 2017.  If climate change doesn’t kill us all, ISIS, immigrants or Donald Trump will.  Yeah, yeah, yeah!  Personally, I’ve lived through more than one Earth- Ending Event — including Margaret Thatcher, George Bush (both of them) Y2K, the Mayan calendar and whatever Nostradamus has been babbling about for years.  Predicting the future is like raising children — you never know whether you’re right or wrong until it’s too late.  So rather than trying to look over the horizon at 2017, here are just a few things I would really like to see next year.

1 — We all finally realize that nothing actually happens when some asshole gets offended on Social Media — nothing!

2 — The Kardashians go back to whatever planet they came from — and they take Blac Chyna, Tyga and Kanye with them.

3 — We remember that Reality TV is, in reality, an oxymoron.

4 — Telling the truth is no longer one of the Seven Deadly Sins.

5 — Somebody, please, take the jihadists seriously.  These homicidal maniacs have a grudge against the 21st century and it’s not as if anybody can talk them out of it.  A lot of people are getting killed.  We need a better strategy than candles and teddy bears — after the fact.

6 — Game of Thrones quits going sideways.

7 — The end of the mannequin challenge.

8 — There’s at least one decent movie produced in 2017 that isn’t a sequel, a prequel, part of a franchise, a remake or a reboot.  There has to be an original idea out there — somewhere.

9 — We permanently abandon Uggs and yoga pants.

10 — Hey, Minions!  You’re 15 minutes is over.

And finally:

11 — Somebody looks at me the way women look at yogurt in the television commercials.