Have you noticed that people don’t make New Year’s resolutions anymore? I guess we’re going into a new era where people have had it up to here with trying to improve themselves.
“Let President Obama use my money to improve my life,” is the new national mood.
Not me. I’m still willing to lie to others (and myself) about fixing my shortcomings.
The fact is I don’t take these resolutions lightly and I’m not like those people who, on Jan. 1 at 12:01 a.m., make their resolutions while they’re drunk and bloated. What amateurs! They’re a disgrace to the grand old pastime of self-denial.
Since I plan to be drunk and bloated every minute of 2010, I have plenty of time. What’s more, I believe the longer you take and the more thought you put into your New Year’s resolutions, the better the chance that you’re going to forget them the minute temptation comes your way. No one loves temptation more than I do.
So here goes this year’s Della Femina resolutions, which sound suspiciously like last year’s resolutions.
I Resolve To:
1. I resolve to eat more fat and consume more delicious empty calories. I also plan to devour more sugar and rid my diet of fresh fruits and vegetables, whose tastes are greatly overrated.
2. I resolve to pour salt on everything, including anchovies.
3. I resolve to start smoking again. I’m going back to unfiltered Camels.
4. I resolve to stop being Mr. Nice Guy and lose my temper and throw tantrums every chance I get.
5. I resolve not to laugh, chuckle, chortle, giggle, snigger, titter, snort or make funny faces when I speak to my Democrat friends and they tell me that they are still happy they voted for Obama and isn’t “change” wonderful? The same goes for The New York Times.
6. I resolve to see a shrink about my recurring nightmare, in which I leave The Beautiful Judy Licht and actively pursue, date, romance and marry Nancy Pelosi in my desire to do to her, on our wedding night, what she is doing to my country.
7. I resolve to start wearing a nice comfy full-length fur coat and I’m going to carry around a bucket of pig’s blood to throw on the cloth coat of any anti-fur activist who comes within 10 feet of me.
8. I resolve not to speak to any recorded telephone information voice until a live operator comes on.
9. I resolve not to let the New York Giants break my heart again in 2010. They are cursed as long as they keep employing their bewildered, blinking coach Tom Coughlin, who jumps around after every bad play like he’s just been goosed by the unseen hand of God.
10. I resolve to tell that fat, phony Michael Moore that I’m sorry I missed his flop movie Capitalism: A Love Story. I would have walked into a theater to see it but I have this fear of being totally alone in the dark.
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