Be it resolved …
Who keeps resolutions anyway?
“M ake ’em and break ’em.” Isn’t that the way it usually goes? New Year’s resolutions. Most years I prevailed pretty much until just about now before I would reach a point of humiliating capitulation. This is about the time that the Snickers bar, sleuth-like in the back of the fridge in what Joanne believes to be her secret hiding spot behind the mayo and pickles, started screaming at me every time I opened the door.
Joanne and I used to keep our Snickers in the freezer. That was back in the day when we still had relatively good teeth. Caps and crowns are damn expensive.
As I stood there coveting the chocolate-covered peanut Valhalla, I spied the last can of Miller Lite that somehow survived New Year’s Eve. They both beckoned me with their sweet siren song wafting over the pungent aroma of weeks if not months-old uncovered leftovers. Finally, like Ulysses himself and despite my Herculean efforts to resist, I succumbed to the evil temptress and threw in the towel. Literally. In my endorphin-addled brain-rush I accidentally spilled the long-since-expired carton of milk that Joanne had planned to pawn off on me as cottage cheese.
In my disgust and self-loathing, I grabbed the can of Miller Lite and the Snickers and ran to the bathroom. I locked the door like some prepubescent junior high kid copping dad’s latest issue of Playboy to secretly … err … drool over Miss March. In fairness to the LGBT community (I know there is another letter or two following the T but I’ll be damned if I can remember. I’m convinced that they won’t stop adding more letters until they have exhausted the alphabet) … but anyway … in fairness to them, please notice that I did not discriminate and identify the sex of the stealthy prepubescent junior high kid fantasizing over Miss March.
In the relative seclusion of our locked bathroom and in less than three minutes, I would completely consume both the Miller Lite and the Snickers. Both of my New Year’s resolutions were compromised. Busted again.
So, you ask, “Bill, why then do we even bother making New Year’s Eve resolutions? Every year we fall into the recidivistic practice of just blowing them off.” In order to provide an insightful answer to that question, we have to first understand the historical origins of New Year’s resolutions.
The atavistic practice of making resolutions dates back to Biblical Times. To be specific—Old Testament Times. And to really nail it down—the book of Exodus (I think it was written by Leon Uris; I know this because I am an honor graduate of the Donald Trump School of Scripture Study). You all know the story. How Moses went up on the mountain, leaving his no-account, hedonistic followers behind. While he was up there communing with God, they melted all of their gold jewelry and tooth fillings and cast themselves the golden calf. They danced around that baby cow like maniacs, all hopped up on wine like a bunch of sailors in Singapore.
Meanwhile, Moses was engaged in some pretty heavy negotiations with God. God gave him a stone tablet on which he had typed what he called “The Ten Commandments.” Moses made a few editorial comments and suggested that God rename them “The Ten Resolutions” because, knowing the capricious behavior of the no-accounts he left down below in the valley and hearing the big ruckus they were making, he explained to God that most folks would pretty much ignore his “Commandments” and break every last one of them. So why not just call them “Resolutions?” Of course, God prevailed on that one. It was the first time in recorded history that an author won an argument about word choice with his editor.
So there we have not only the origins of resolutions but also the practice of breaking resolutions. By the way, if any of you have never broken one of those original Ten Resolutions, please email me. I want to hitch up to your wagon.
After I shamefully violated my pathetic promise to abstain from Miller Lite and Snickers, I quickly came up with a couple of Plan-B resolutions. Lately I have been noticing how some people get ahead in the world. Particularly our new president.
During his trash-talk campaign and thus far reckless presidency, I noticed one of his many glaring personality traits: He did not succeed in business or in the presidential campaign polls by being nice to people. Insults, disparagement, and character assassination are his tools for success. So my first resolution is to just stop being so damn nice. “Blessed are the meek …” just doesn’t seem to work so well anymore. I am going to do my best to tick off as many people as I can.
My second resolution (which runs completely counter to most folks … maybe even you) is to try to gain some weight. I have struggled with the weight issue all of my life. Not the takin’ off—the puttin’ on.
So right there it is. The presidentially inspired insight that will allow me to be faithful to my revised Plan-B New Year’s Resolutions throughout the entire year: All I need to do is tell people my second resolution first and the first resolution will automatically keep itself.