And so we bid a not-so-fond farewell to the bow of another large unwieldy year as it sinks slowly over the horizon wobbling unsteadily towards the graveyard of memory.
And cheers erupt from we folks on shore waving the double-handed “L for loser” sign above our heads.
“So long. See ya. Don’t let the door slam you in the butt on the way out. And if you got any brothers or sisters, don’t give them this address.”
Normally there’s some small sense of nostalgia for a departing annum. An iota of regret for the calendar discarded. Not this one.
Getting through the past 12 months was like navigating a Black Diamond ski run in roller skates with the wheels rusted shut. While wearing a crib.
It was an oil-soaked pelican of years. The Year of Living Stupidly. Had the same connection to constructive change that Vladimir Putin has to the editorial board of Crochet Monthly. The Chinese need a new Zodiac sign: Year of the Flatulent Weasel.
But in the interest of keeping this particular piece of puffery positive it might be best if we confine our remarks to reflecting on the good that emerged from 2012.
Okay. Well, that was quick.
Wait — got one: at least the presidential election is over.
Of course, people are already running for 2016, so we got that to look forward to. Which is real similar to looking forward to having five-year-old twins playing in the back seat of a cross-country drive with a new set of drums and an unlimited supply of metallic sticks. And tambourines. Tons of tambourines. For four years.
You’d think even your average run-of-the-mill politician would possess the simple common human decency to wait till the current president was re-inaugurated, but nooo. These early birds are intent on stockpiling worms.
You know what they say: Early money is like yeast. And very early money is like baking soda. And extremely early money is an egg wash brushed delicately across a pan full of hot cross buns.
When you think about it, the only thing that really went right with 2012 was we misread the Mayan Calendar. Everything else is either worse than we found it or the same. Middle East a mess? Check. Crazy people with guns? Check. Weather getting weird? Check. Congress unable to accomplish any sort of worthwhile task, including differentiating between their gluteus maximus and yellow paint? Double check.
Face it. These days, simple survival has become the goal. Continuing existence is the new victory dance.
And then for a half a second you ruminate on how good we got it here. What kind of state the rest of the world is in. And most of our problems just kind of fade away, don’t they?
Sure, with great potential comes great responsibility. But it’s an exciting time. Fifteen years ago, the only people with GPS units were NASA. Now we got them in our cars and phones.
We’re also in the middle of a cheeseburger renaissance and pretty good coffee is available almost everywhere. Not half bad perks.
So, what do you say? Shall we give another a year a shot? But just 365 this time around. Don’t know about you but that extra day this year kicked my butt.
The New York Times says five-time Emmy- nominated comedian and writer Will Durst “is quite possibly the best political comic working in the country today.” E-mail Will at firstname.lastname@example.org.