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Painful Truth: Resolutions I won’t keep at all

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We did it! Hey everyone, we made it through another year!

Time for the New Year’s resolutions!

Some people will tell you to make simple, attainable resolutions. Lose five pounds. Read 10 good books. Call your mother every weekend.

Others will say, no, when making resolutions, you should go for broke! Learn a new language! Take that trip to Ecuador! Build a full-sized replica Spitfire in your garage!

Personally, I prefer to make resolutions that I have no chance of ever following through on.

Let’s look at my plans for the next 12 months, shall we?

• January – Decipher Linear A, the mysterious script used by the ancient Minoans, a language shrouded in mystery ever since its discovery. Find out that Linear A tablets give instructions to locating the lost city of Atlantis. Fund an expedition to the ship with a rag-tag crew on a decommissioned Russian nuclear sub. Avoid being eaten by the barracuda-men.

• February – Learn to control the weather with the power of my mind. I shall sit in the lotus position under the torrential coastal rain and commune with the storm-gods until I can speak the runic incantations to summon thunder, lightning, and maybe a light shower if it’s been a bit dry lately, you know the farmers could use the moisture.

• March – Accelerate the evolution of a strain of algae until it forms a vast green blob of protoplasm that absorbs and consumes everything in its path. Name the blob Murray, take it for regular walks.

• April – Eat an entire rock as big as my head. Not all at once, of course. May need some salt.

• May – Design and build a time machine. Go back to Munich, 1923, assassinate Hitler, thus preventing the Second World War.

• June – Return to future in which dinosaurs rule the world. Go back to May, convince myself not to build that time machine in the first place. Return to present with tame riding Triceratops; introduce him to Muray.

• July – Take up flying. Start by jumping off the couch. Flap arms vigorously. When I have learned to hover in mid-air, I will try this off a 20-storey building.

• August – Revive the ancient and noble sport of chariot racing. But with Komodo dragons. So it won’t be so much a race, as it will be a mad scramble by the drivers to avoid being eaten by the giant lizards.

• September – Crash land on a remote desert island. Live in isolation, eating only what I can catch with a sharpened stick. Make friends with the local tropical lizards, until I get really hungry and have exhausted the supply of things to eat larger than a lizard.

• October – Finally, once and for all, prove that none of the UFOs sighted have ever been alien spacecraft. My laborious research and tireless investigative work will show that they are all either weather balloons, the planet Venus, low-flying aircraft, or surveillance flights by the anti-grav saucers of the Mole People from deep within the earth.

• November – Seek revenge on my greatest enemy. I shall work my way into his confidences, learn his secrets, and then frustrate his plans, all the while smiling and pretending that I am his greatest friend in all the world. Note to self: Acquire enemy before undertaking this resolution.

• December – Think up new resolutions. Resolve not to do any of them.

 



Matthew Claxton

About the Author: Matthew Claxton

Raised in Langley, as a journalist today I focus on local politics, crime and homelessness.
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