New Year’s resolutions always remind me of the old joke where the man goes to his doctor.
“Well, you’re sixty,” the doctor says, “and you’re in pretty good shape. Still, I’d like to recommend my patented Life Extension Program.”
“Okay,” the patient says, “what do I have to do?”
“No drinking or smoking, obviously. No red meat, no cream sauces, in fact no fatty foods at all. Little to no salt. No spices, no dairy, nuts, nightshade, no wheat naturally—those are all inflammatory. Same with sugar, so no candy, cakes, pies, obviously no ice cream, keep it simple and avoid desserts of any kind. Fruit, yes—but sparingly, in season, and nothing too sweet. Every day I want you to get up at the crack of dawn and run five miles. Then, go to the gym and work out for at least two hours, weight-training and cardio. Meditation, obviously. No caffeine—that means no coffee or tea, not even chocolate. And you probably shouldn’t live in a city. That’s too stressful; move out to the country.”
The patient’s really getting fed up. “But all my friends live here, all the people I love.”
“That reminds me: Absolutely no sex!”
“Gee whiz,” the patient says. “If I do all that, will I live forever?”
“I don’t know,” the doctor says, “but it’ll sure feel like it!”
This might be the three pounds of Peppermint Bark since Saturday talking, but I think New Year’s resolutions are a bunch of Puritan hatbuckle. None of the people who really need them, make them; and all of the things that genuinely harm us are much too powerful to be given the slip by a mere New Year’s resolution.
So I come at it contrariwise: instead of things I wish to stop, I resolve to do other things more. These are my New Year’s resolutions for 2023:
Find the best of every type of food in my town—the best steaks, roasted broccolini, Linzer Torte, eggplant parmigiana…And then EAT IT.
More time with friends. (InDesign is not my friend.)
Watch the Marx Brothers. Ever since the pandemic, my pal Mary and I watch old movies every Tuesday. My local movie theater used to show the Marxes every January 1st; now it’s up to me.
Buy some really killer neckties. And wear them, even though this is California.
When it’s foggy, go out in it.
Make Large Cat Max purr HARD at least once a day. More, if I think his rivets can take it.
Lie to my nieces and nephews.
Then live a life so outrageous that, if my nieces and nephews ever find out, they’ll just say, “oh, that’s Uncle Mike lying again.”
What are some of your New Year’s resolutions? Put ‘em in the comments.
Which books mike? can you say? :-)
I word to anyone who needs it: as established in Gerber v. ACME Confectionery Co., comments on a blog “do not represent premeditation.”