Resolved: Continue the hiatus on vacation trips to the Levant. Resolved: Put off the bring-back-the-mullet campaign for another year. Resolved: If the president nominates me to do the Inaugural Poem this year, submit one of the Burma Shave classics, perhaps “Ben met Anna, Made a Hit. Neglected beard, Ben-Anna split.” Confident he’ll find and appreciate the deeper meaning. If the Southern Baptist Convention comes asking my advice, I’m going to tell them, “Why don’t you love one another, as Jesus said, instead of being such a bunch of a-holes?” Resolved: Finish “My Life” before I forget where I got to and have to go back and start all over. Resolved: Spend about as much time next year as this year worrying about the left-wing heathen plot to steal Christmas. Resolved: If I just can’t cold turkey this Bungee impulse, at least do a better job of making sure the rope is shorter than the jumpoff is high. I know it’s politically incorrect for little people to heighten, so for solidarity’s sake in ’05 I won’t heighten. It’ll take the sighting of a mushroom cloud — or a brace of them — to get me back into the WMD shelter that Homeland Security talked me into building back in ’02. And next time I’m taking Chee-tos, rather than try to subsist on the spiders as HS recommended. No matter how bad the thirst gets in there, it’s only as a very last resort that I’ll start chewing on the stockpiled cactus. Resolved: Spend considerable less time next fall than I did last fall waiting for the ficus leaves to change color. Resolved: Give credit where it’s due, unless that’s one of the times I’m Stephen Ambrosing, Doris Kearnsing, or Jayson Blairing. If some genie gives me three wishes in ’05, one of them will be that every time Sean Hannity says anything about anything someone will step forward from off-camera and whop him upside the head with a rubber chicken. Maybe with a horseshoe in it. Several others of these host whoppings also. I’ll not get my ride pimped on account of it would just be a waste. Anybody uses really trite expressions around me, I’ll open a can of whupass. Resolved: E-Bay the Annie Oakleys if the Britney Old Married Woman Tour stops by. I’m not wasting any more sympathy on David O. Freaking Dodd. I’ll not be talked to that way by a machine. I’ll not hitch my wagon to a star until I figure out what the hell that means. I’ll not give them a centimeter, assuming they’d take a kilometer if I did. In the same spirit, I’ll not batten down the hatches until I get me some hatches and find out how. Even though deer are coming up to graze in my back yard pretty regularly now, I won’t be leasing out hunting rights. Whatever it is, I’m not going to get my bowels in an uproar about it. I’ll not schedule a motor trip on Interstate 40 if there’s a chance of snow. I’ll not be renewing vows, as that suggests the old ones somehow weren’t good enough, or getting involved in that sanctimonious covenant marriage grandstanding with all those pious phonies. No matter how bad I mess up, I won’t blame it on abuse, or claim to be the “real victim.” I’ll not be yelling into a cell phone in a public place if it might annoy someone with a heart condition. I’m not going to reiterate before I’ve iterated. I’m determined to cut down on calling for citizen’s arrests like Gomer. I guess I’ll just give up hope of ever panning an appreciable amount of gold out here in Hurricane Creek. I’ve got enough to think about without sweating carbs. Resolved: Agree to Support the Troops only when it means something other than Support the Foolish Policies that have put the troops in danger. Resolved: Pop Tucker Carlson’s bow tie the first chance I get. I’ll not mosh, unless circumstances just demand it. Resolved: I’ll not sic my dog on any salesmen except the ones who won’t take no for an answer. Buying the new car to get the free shotgun is not on the ’05 agenda. Also, all that time spent mulching, roping, defenestrating, noshing, popping wheelies, and turning the Garden Weasel in ’04 will be put to better use.