There is no doubt that I have had great trouble keeping New Year's resolutions. I have had so much trouble that I have quit making them for several years. But I feel that not making such resolutions to avoid self-disappointment has reduced my holiday joy and positive outlook to a level that is inappropriate for anyone not named Scrooge. So: here follows a list that I believe even I can keep.
I will eat more barbecue, when someone else is paying.
I will watch KU basketball without wearing a jock strap, a condom, or a maid’s uniform.
I will order home-delivered pizza more frequently than I will engage in multiple linear regression analyses of which foot is most pivoted with with JNewell.
I will stop calling Bruce Weber KSU’s interim head coach, and start calling him its "Ex-Interim Head Coach in Waiting."
I will note, whenever doing so would not be in poor taste, that Travis Ford is so short he cannot see out of a pair of high tops.
I will be seduced by nude women that speak French fluently to me in any time zone where sex between consenting adults has not yet been ruled an offense punishable by square dancing.
I will step out of the way of oncoming locomotives, unless KU has just lost to Scott Drew.
I will fondle any beautiful woman of sound mind and body that asks me to do so in a polite, respectful and discreet manner, or that does so rudely, condescendingly and in a regional mall.
I will render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s, while also hiring a tax accountant named Sy Loopholski.
I will continue to wonder whether Bill Self wears a rug, or if he has his barber cut it to look that way to keep all of us from thinking about why he runs so little zone.
I will make jokes about Dick Vitale.
(NOTE: ALL FICTION. SANS MALICE. HAPPY NEW YEARS!)