Here we are again in a brand new year. And as Tennessee Ernie Ford sang way back in the 1950s, “Another day older and deeper in debt.” Overspending on Black Friday wasn’t even a thing then. So anyway, what will 2023 bring? Who knows?
Hopefully, the last of Trump, brought about whichever way works best to make it a reality. Beyond that, the New Year signals it’s resolution time. So how did this making-resolutions-on-the-first-day-of-the-year debacle get started? Here’s the educational part of my column; fun, but you learn something, just like on Sesame Street. We can blame it on the Babylonians who, approximately 4,000 years ago at the start of their raucous 12-day New Year’s Festival, made promises to their gods to pay their debts and return borrowed objects such as library books and hanging garden tools, thereby avoiding the wrath of those aforementioned gods. The Babylonians were the first to break their resolutions, which is why there are no longer any Babylonians.
About this time, the Romans developed their own version of celebrating the arrival of the New Year. Julius Caesar declared January 1 to be its start, welcomed with a massive celebration in the recently completed Lego Coliseum (constructed with more than 23,486,337,009 pieces and 200 Greek slaves) on the eve of the New Year. At midnight (approximately, because their sundials were ineffective and moon dials had yet to be invented) a large ball, sturdily woven from grape vines and filled with Christians, was lowered into a pack of hungry lions, signaling the start of the New Year. The next day, the plebians faced the patricians in the Coliseum Bowl for a rousing game of harpastum. Members of the losing team were awarded the positions of javelin catchers in the next round of games. By a lengthy string of good luck, the patricians invariably managed to eek out a win just after the two-minute warning. The plebians made a resolution to win the next year, but their resolution was inevitably broken. This led to today’s practice of making resolutions that are never kept.
On a lighter note and suffering the effects of overindulgence on 12/31, I thought it might be time to do some Google searches by typing in a couple of words to see what pops up, indicating what others have searched for followed by my attempt to answer their heart-felt inquiries. I was a bit disappointed because the latest searches appeared to be more normal than last time, but there were still a few that didn’t disappoint:
• How can I be homophobic?
Become a member of the GOP.
• How will I know if I’m pregnant?
It depends. The symptoms are different for males and females.
• How will I know if I’m having contractions?
If you’re bent over and cursing, it’s a pretty good indication.
• Why is Donald Duck’s middle name Fauntleroy?
His parents couldn’t spellRt#kkuk&z%:q@
• How will I laugh tomorrow?
Think of Donald Duck’s middle name.
• Why does my ear hurt?
See if removing the banana that’s stuck in it makes a difference.
• Why is the banana in danger?
Too many are getting stuck in people’s ears.
• Why are you blue?
It complements the yellow banana in my ear.
• Why do I attract crazy?
It could be the fact that you’re blue.
• Why is Donald Duck’s voice like that?
He’s homophobic.
And a perennial favorite of mine still shows up:
• Why is there a dead Pakistani on my sofa?
A dead hippo wouldn’t fit.
So now let’s all raise a glass of champagne in a toast to 2023 and all the good things ahead that we can possibly stand. Happy New Year!