Will Durst: 2013 shoulda, coulda, woulda resolutions
Okay. Bent over. Hands on knees. Breathing hard. Whew. Made it. “Pant. Pant.”
For a while there, didn’t seem like it’d ever happen, but somehow we mercifully staggered across the annum finish line, finally placing 2012 irrevocably in the rear-view mirror.
Make no mistake, the political climate is still volatile. Rash. Mad. Loud. Pulsating forehead vein above arcing spray of spittle loud. And the double-crossing chicanery hasn’t mellowed a bit of a spot of an iota from the fever pitch of last year’s quadrennial heights.
But now we’re deep enough into the new year that a few of us have occasionally remembered to scribble “2013” on our checks. Yeah, checks. Aren’t we the digital ones? Mostly zeroes. And as a public service we here at Durstco have offered to assist with a couple of resolutions that should have been made for this, the fourth year of the second decade of the 21st century. But probably weren’t.
Donald Trump commits himself, sometime during the coming year, against his better judgment, to somehow stumble onto the semblance of a clue.
Joe Biden takes an oath to learn how to laugh without frightening children.
Epitomizing the height of lowered expectations, the 113th Congress resolves to do more than the 112th Congress.
Rick Perry guarantees to someday be the president of some darn country even if he has to secede to do it.
President Obama pledges to outline a plan to fix the Social Security problem once and for all that doesn’t include raising the retirement age to 83.
Gen. David Petraeus vows to eat more meals at home. Alone. In the garage.
Chris Christie swears to do all he can to avoid snickering every time he runs into Mitt Romney.
Greece aspires to become much more like Portugal.
Hillary Clinton swears to do all she can to avoid snickering every time she runs into Joe Biden.
Stung by NFL violence, Nike vows to never again tie its star to overpaid athletes and considers featuring school teachers in its ads. Lasts about an hour.
Gov. Jerry Brown promises to focus less on the vast spaceship that is Earth and more on the run-down, long-term parking shuttle that is California.
Tim Pawlenty vows to utilize the latest strobe technology to at least give the appearance of movement.
Clint Eastwood vows to practice, practice, practice.
PBS determines not to do anything to rile Congress, and makes plans to transform itself into the 24-Hour Antiques Roadshow Network. Minus all that disreputable controversy.
The Airline Industry makes every effort to finally rid the skies of the most dangerous security element known to man: those pesky passengers.
The European Financial Crisis promises to fade into the wings.
The Asian Financial Crisis promises to take center stage.
John Boehner pledges to find a foundation color that reads less pumpkin and more summer squash.
Harry Reid makes a determined effort to focus more on the slightly wacky and less on the plumb crazy.
The Supreme Court steadfastly avers to put the fun back in dysfunctional.
Sheldon Adelson vows to spend the rest of his fortune on less risky bets than preposterous presidential candidates. He proceeds to blow it all on Nigerian lottery tickets.
Lindsay Lohan makes a concerted effort to get back to the thing she’s really good at. And equally determined to remember exactly what that
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