Road Apples
Dec. 24, 2007
Lightening your load in the New Year By Tim Sanders The New Year is almost upon us. It is a silly season, where in one single
night otherwise rational people indulge in an entire year’s worth of bad
habits, so that they can give them up the following day in the form of New
Year’s resolutions. Oh yeah, now I remember. I’m not suggesting that you cultivate bad habits so that you’ll be able to ward off disease. Nor am I advising you to accumulate bad habits in order to have things to resolve not to do anymore when the New Year arrives. I am confident that if you look carefully, you’ll find more than enough bad habits to accommodate the Titanic, the Lusitania, and three or four sinking Norwegian Cruise Liners. And if you contend that you have no bad habits at all, you might want to work on that one glaring habit you just displayed, the habit of lying like a bedouin carpet salesman. So, weighed down with bad habits as we all are, I would suggest that you limit your resolutions. Keep them simple and down to earth. Resolve to do or not to do the kinds of things which might well be within your capability to do or not to do, even if you don’t plan to do or not do them. Quite often you will hear friends proudly proclaim: "I’m resolving to work to make the world a better place this year, to help fight global warming, and to maintain a cheerful disposition regardless of circumstances." Those resolutions are meaningless. They are the kinds of words that would fall from the lips of a beauty pageant contestant, or possibly a presidential candidate, which in the case of John Edwards would be redundant. Here are some examples of meaningless New Year’s resolutions, and some
workable alternatives to them: WRONG: I resolve to work for a safe, nuclear-free world in the upcoming year. RIGHT: I resolve to search Momma’s purse for weapons the next time we visit Aunt Doreen’s family.
RIGHT: I will certainly avoid taking Lunesta and Dulcolax at the same time.
RIGHT: I resolve to try my very best not to emit methane in crowded elevators.
RIGHT: I will personally do my part by putting snow tires on my old Buick, scraping the ice off my windshield, digging my way out of the driveway, hunting down Al Gore and whacking him ever so gently in the head with my convenient Midwestern snow shovel.
RIGHT: I will steel my resolve and avoid news stories about the dangers
of fatty foods. WRONG: I will stop eating meat products, consume only organic vegetables, use no sodium, drink only spring fresh, bottled water, and avoid caffeine. RIGHT: AVOID CAFFEINE? HAHAHAHA!
RIGHT: I will work out regularly and train intensively until my thumb is limber, and I’m fit to put that remote aside, climb out of my recliner, waddle down to the corner Krispy Kreme, and reward myself with a wheelbarrow full of jelly doughnuts.
RIGHT: This year, if I put my mind to it, I know I can lose Junior at WalMart.
RIGHT: I will learn to pronounce "quesadilla" without the "L"s when dining at the local Mexican restaurant.
RIGHT: If I’m sober, I will return to my little, brown boyhood church on Easter Sunday. I think I still remember where it is; in the vale, just behind that enormous brown gymnasium.
RIGHT: I will never again vote.
RIGHT: I will read the covers of two good books, which generally give you
a pretty good idea of what’s inside, anyway. (Except for "Little Women,"
which is not about circus midgets at all, and "Moby Dick," which has
absolutely nothing to do with physical abnormalities.) WRONG: I promise to never light another cigarette. RIGHT: I promise to never light another cigarette while using paint thinner to remove semi-gloss enamel from my pants. Not while I’m wearing the pants, at any rate.
RIGHT: I resolve to ... uh, wait, it was right here on my desk a minute
ago. I suppose I could go on, but you get the idea. With more practical, down-to-earth resolutions, you will find yourself feeling better about things. Of course you won’t be able to keep your resolutions, but at least your friends won’t laugh at you for being pompous and unrealistic. They’ll only laugh at you for the usual reasons. |