No Way To Win With Resolutions
By Doug Hecox
Writer of Wrongs
January 2, 1999
New Year's Eve is perhaps one of the loneliest holidays of the year. Surely not for
gadabouts like you, but for guys like me -- whose social agenda is rivaled only by a man
of letters like Ted Kaczynski -- New Year's Eve is typically a lonely evening. Each year,
I intend to spend the next one with people but, inevitably, my Dec. 31 is spent drinking
eggnog straight from the jug and making fun of Dick Clark's Rockin' Eve. Alone. Sometimes
for fun, I will order a pizza just before midnight. That way, when it arrives, I can
complain about the slow delivery. "I ordered this pizza LAST YEAR," I will say
before threatening to call the manager for a discount. This also works each spring when we
set the clocks forward an hour. Thanks to Daylight Savings Time, guys with social
calendars like mine rarely pay full price for pizza.
Maybe New Year's loneliness has something to do with the "resolutions" one is
inevitably asked about at work. There is no way to win with New Year's resolutions. To not
have a resolution suggests an inflated sense of satisfaction with oneself, but to have one
-- or many -- highlights one's insecurities. Perhaps the only safe resolution involves
spending the New Year helping others.
For this reason, I plan to spend 1999 helping a famous naval officer get a long overdue
promotion. After 35 years of service, with no crew, on a wooden tub that should have been
mothballed years ago, this naval captain has waged a solitary war to defend our shores
from the villainous "Soggies." Yes, Cap'n Crunch has more than earned his
promotion to Admiral. Moreover, he only has three fingers on each hand, qualifying him for
partial disability payments of some kind. Perhaps most insulting of all, the Cap'n only
has three stripes on his sleeve -- the uniform of a commander -- suggesting that Quaker
Oats, in cahoots with General Mills and other naval brass, has been trying to break his
spirit. It will be my privilege to spend 1999 helping Cap'n Crunch. If, in the name of
selflessness, you want to join this noble effort, sign the petition.
New Year's Eve is something of a social equalizer. Regardless of social position, everyone
-- from peasants to kings -- is expected to make a resolution. Some will attempt to live
healthier; others will endeavor to be more charitable. According to sources, outgoing
Speakers of the House Newt Gingrich (R-Ga.) and Bob Livingston (R-La.) are planning to
"look for jobs" in 1999. Gov. Jim Geringer reportedly resolves to be "more
approachable," while gubernatorial wannabe John Vinich plans to continue balancing
political motivations with his law school homework. Insiders like me believe this means
Vinich will be running for the University of Wyoming College of Law's seat on the ASUW
Student Senate in April.
President Bill Clinton counts "improving social standing" among his New Year's
resolutions. Not even Nancy Reagan's astrologers could have predicted that presidential
half-brother Roger would wind up being the respected one in the Clinton family? I should
point out that several folks suggest I include "making fewer disparaging remarks
about the President" among mine for 1999. I smiled as I accepted their challenge
because New Year's resolutions are made to be broken. Even Iraqi strongman Saddam Hussein
knows this one -- just ask the United Nations.
Instead of poking fun at the World's Oldest Teenager and his throng of Times Square
ball-droppers, I will focus on my resolutions this New Year's Eve. Helping others, like
Cap'n Crunch, is a given. Ensuring that my next New Year's Eve is not spent alone also
tops the list. However, being nicer to cats and their owners -- like Socks and the
President -- is still up in the air. We'll see what kind of mood I'm in after my pizza
arrives.