Last October, I quit smoking cigarettes, arresting a
thirty-eight year addiction. You expect
the cravings, the anxious moments when smoking becomes the only thing you can
think about, but what you don’t expect is the enormous amount of credit people
will give you for sticking with it. After
two weeks, I was feeling better. In a month’s time, I was proud of myself. By Christmas, I was downright cocky. With January 1st right around the corner and
still on a self-improvement kick, I wrote down a list of New Year’s
resolutions.
I am ashamed to admit that I accomplished exactly none
of them. Reproduced below, as a public
Mea Culpa, is the list I made…
MARC’S
NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTIONS
Finish
my master’s degree in clown college.
Stop
kicking myself when I miss the first few minutes of ‘The Beverly Hillbillies’...I
know I can figure out what’s going on if I just pay attention!
Give
military salutes to crossing guards.
Whenever
someone says, “Good Morning”, respond with a hearty, “’Allo, Guv’na!”
Scream
“Yee-Haw” at the moment of orgasm.
Play
a country music record backwards to see if my dog will really come back.
Begin
referring to my off-brand sneakers as ‘Air Gordons’.
Wish
on the first star I see each night, asking that my enemies die painful deaths.
Write
to my congressman about the designated hitter rule.
Get jiggy with it.
Sue that asshole who called me “overly
litigious.”
Install tiny safes in the birdhouses.
Resign from Paul Simon’s fan club and join
Garfunkels…thereby kick-starting the revolution!!
Get tested for Hulkamania.
