I resolve to stop falling asleep standing up with a hair dryer aimed at my face.

-Lose 20 pounds so that I can fit in the 45 shirts and 7 pairs of jeans that I own for skinny people.

–Work on my damn book about death and dying and grief and loss and fucking around at a funeral where most people barely even care about the deceased.

-Win the lottery so that I can quit my job and spend a third of my day writing about comic books.

-Brush my teeth with such vigor that I wear away the enamel to the nerve, disintegrating the teeth to fine dust and ensuring that I’ll never have to visit a dentist again.

-Participate in a hot dog eating contest so that I can kick Joey Chestnut in the balls.

-Invent a hormone replacement therapy chewable pill that tastes so much like cotton candy that you’ll want to eat about 500 of them at once.

-Quit my job anyway because working sucks.

–Get another two or three tattoos so that I can look even more like a horrible hipster douchebag than I already do.

-Destroy my nemesis, the sun, with the help of my other nemesis, my brain.

-Cryogenically preserve Jimmy Carter’s head and arms so that he can still build houses in the year 2090.

-Finally start that new feature on my blog where I discuss the merits of America’s hottest new trend: NASCAR Racing for Jesus.

-Collect every cereal known to man and start trying to breed them to create new, more evolved cereals.

-Discover the cure for cancer and then accidentally drop the vial down a bottomless pit.

I resolve to stop getting depressed and angry whenever I see this face in a mirror.

-Call my mom to tell her that I’m being ravaged by poisonous piranhas, then laugh at my little gag while I’m being ravaged by poisonous starfish.

-Listen to seven brand new albums per day in the Avantgarde Nazi Bluegrass genre.

-Donate all my vital organs to Science, and then some of the lesser organs to Church.

-Stop biting my nails, and also my tacks and nuts and screws.

-Be kinder and gentler to my atrocious Hellspawn children.

-Go to at least one Phish show and distribute brownies packed with fentanyl out of the kindness of my own heart.

-Seriously, though. Quit my job and never get another one.

-Write in my dream journal every morning and make shit up so it sounds more interesting.

-Be kinder and gentler to my atrocious Hellspawn wife.

-Wear a mask to protect society against COVID-19 and the eventual COVID-24, which will cause people shit out their own eyeballs.

-Stand outside voting booths and scream about the End Times if people don’t start voting for Belphegor the Sloth God to fix America’s healthcare system.

-Edit all my blog posts to include at least one mention of Little Debbie Zebra Cakes to satisfy my advertisers.

-Go back in time and murder everyone responsible for Season 10 through Season 35 of the Simpsons.

I resolve to only pick my nose for fun and not for profit.

-Pray for all the third-world countries in the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

-End world hunger by synthesizing a delicious and filling flesh-eating bacteria.

-Volunteer at the local nursing home to taste test the food to make sure none of it is poisoned.

-Say “good boy” to every dog I walk past, even the bad boys.

-Knit at least one cowboy hat.

-Read at least three books per month about FBI agents going undercover as Nazi prostitutes in order to expand my horizons and personal tastes.

-Eat my Wheaties so I can grow big and strong like Penn Jillette.

-Donate one old kid’s toy per day to charity, but only the shitty toys that no one would want. The good, fun ones are still mine.

-Go door-to-door singing Christmas carols and spreading good cheer, starting in April.

-Cut coupons so I can start saving 30% on Hamburger Helper.

-Have a more open mind about the manga artform, even though it sucks absolute shit and I want to kill myself each time I read it for blog content.

-Write about music more so that I can continue pretending to be a bigshot critic like the fat dead guy who played the other fat dead guy in Almost Famous.

-Read more Star Wars books so I can proudly continue to be an insufferable 36-year-old child.

-And have a good time while I’m at it!