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radioleary-blog · 5 years

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New Year’s Eve

It is New Year’s Eve this week. The word “Eve” is just a fancy, Shakespearean way of saying “the day before,” and for some reason we only use it two days a year; Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve. There’s no Easter Eve, or Arbor Eve, or Groundhog Eve, unless Bill Murray wants to start making prequels. Which would be awesome, but, unlikely. And we certainly can’t refer the day before the first day of Summer as Summer’s Eve, and I’d make the obvious jokes about that, but I respect your intelligence too much. And an old joke like that has, well, a not-so-fresh feeling. So I think this year we should all start using “Eve” more. Try this. When your wife tells you to put out the recyclables and the garbage because tomorrow is garbage day, say to her, “Is it Garbage Eve already? It comes around so fast these days. Boy, it just isn’t as magical now that the kids are off to college.” Sure, in that moment she will look at you and wonder why she married you, but that’s okay, the unexamined life is not worth living. And she may just stop asking you to do things, which frankly, would be great. But again, unlikely.

I see ABC is still calling their New Year’s show Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve. That is one hell of a contract they have that guy under. Dick Clark died in 2012, but I guess he is contractually obligated through 2137. What ABC attorney wrote that contract, Lou Siffer? B.L. Zeebub? I’m not sure what method they plan to use to bring him back and keep hosting, I think this season they reveal he’s been a Westworld robot all along. But he’s starting to remember. “No, Buddy Holly! Chubby Checker! Take the train!” Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve started in 1972, and it may never end. After hosting for 32 years, Dick Clark had a serious stroke in 2004, and ABC had him back on the air by 2005, but he was never really the same. He sat there rocking back and forth, mostly. They could have called it Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Back and Forth Eve. They could have also called it Dick Clark's New Year's Droolin' Eve, and Dick Clark's New Year’s Slurred Speech and Facial Droopin' Eve. But he died in 2012, surrounded by family and friends who loved him. I wonder if they counted down, “Ten...nine...eight…seven…” But I’m a very sick man.

This year it is Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve with Ryan Seacrest, and the entertainers will be Mariah Carey and Lionel Ritchie, with Jenny McCarthy and Fergie. Wow, what hot performers! Apparently the new year we are ringing in is 1998. Maybe 2003, tops. What happened, were Ace of Base and Color Me Badd unavailable?

We are saying goodbye to 2016, and not a minute too soon. That’s why we celebrate New Year’s Eve, not out of excitement for the new year, but because we are thrilled AF to have somehow survived another brutal 12-month asskicking. And 2016 was like stepping into the Octagon and fighting Kimbo Slice. Except even Kimbo Slice didn’t stand a chance against 2016, he tapped out in June. That’s how tough 2016 was. It was the year of I’m with Her and Feel the Bern, of fracking and hacking, of shootin’ and Putin. Of Zika and Scalia. Of bathroom stalls and building walls. If 2008 was the year of HOPE, then 2016 was the year of GROPE. A year of pipelines and Brexits, of deplorables and superdelegates, and that election. Oh man, that election. So many people wish they could just wake up and it didn’t happen, or at least forget that it happened. Like that guy in Momento. Or Drew Barrymore in 50 First Dates, where she wakes up every day with short term memory loss, blissfully unaware that she’s been dating Adam Sandler. If only we could wake up every day unaware that Trump won the Electoral College. We could call it 50 First States. But on December 31, they drop the ball in New York City, and then on January 20, they drop the ball in Washington, D.C.

I’m not so convinced we are actually heading into a new year at all. With the incoming administration, it looks more like we’re heading into 1957.

In 1957, Republicans controlled the White House, The House, and the Senate. Under Emperor Palpatine, if I remember correctly. It was a long, long time ago.

In 1957, there was no EPA, and after Trump puts avowed climate denier Scott Pruitt in charge, there probably won’t be an EPA next year either.

In 1957, there was no Department of Energy. We can only hope that Texas idiot Rick Perry is as incompetent at eliminating the department as he was at remembering it. Rick Perry gained stature with Republicans when he started wearing a pair of glasses he found on a city bus to look smarter, but his one memorable moment is him not remembering. Maybe we’ll get lucky and he’ll forget he even works at the EPA. Maybe he’ll decide to follow his dream and finally try out for Dancing With the Stars, oh wait, he did. Oops. Rick Perry actually is the one with the memory loss from Momento and 50 First Dates.

Finally, In 1957, the U.S. and Russia were locked in a nuclear arms race, escalating their stockpiles of nuclear weapons. Thankfully, nothing like that will happen when Trump...What? He already did? Are you Sure? WTF! But he’s not even President yet! He better be careful, if he pisses off the Russians, they won’t re-elect him.

But whatever happens, we’ll get through it. And then next December 31 we’ll celebrate surviving that one too. Or we’ll be meeting Kimbo Slice. Now we look forward, and write our New Year’s resolutions. I looked up the word ‘resolution’, it’s Old French for “aw, who am I kidding.” I have written my resolutions for the new year, I’m sure they’re no different than everybody else’s. But if you see one you like, you can take it, too. These are my resolutions for 2017

1. Stop making excuses for my heroin use by calling it “jazz lessons.”

2. Stop writing angry letters to the manufacturers of ‘Cracker Jack’ for having the most racist named snack ever.

3. Stop throwing people under the bus every time something goes wrong in my life. In fact, I should stay away from bus stations altogether, they probably have my face on file.

4. Stop confusing Aleppo with the other Marx brothers; Harpo, Chico, Groucho, and Zeppo. And stop confusing Syria with that talking phone.

5. Stop running up thousands of dollars in credit card debt. Although it’s not my fault if whoever lost the card hasn’t called their bank and cancelled it yet.

6. Stop throwing my vote away by voting for write-in candidates. Especially when I write-in “Batman.” But dude, he’d be great.

7. This is the year I finally get fit. For a straight-jacket.

8. Stop making excuses for my weight by calling myself “Too big to fail.”

9. When I’m in church and the priest starts talking about Jesus dying on the cross, I have to stop yelling “Spoiler alert!”

10. This is the year I travel to new places. Mainly to countries that have no extradition treaty with the U.S. for throwing people under a bus.

Happy New Year! I am one with the force, the force is with me!

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