The Resolution Will Be Short

Sherman, set the Way Back Machine for 1953, Harry Truman was the President, High Noon was playing in the theaters, and a young William Holden taught us to laugh. It was the year that I was to make my last, my final, my ultimate New Year’s Resolution that I would keep, like a cheap set of luggage, from that day onward.

What was that resolution, you might ask?

I’m glad you did, otherwise, this would be a short article with only the first paragraph for you to read.

Of course, if you want a short article, then by all means, ignore the question asked, stop at “onward” (excelsior for you Latin buffs), and go ahead and leave your comments in the comments section.

But for those of you for whom curiosity didn’t just kill the cat, but broke its legs, burned its ashes and then scattered them to the four winds, please read on.

Cat lovers may also wish to stop here and comment here on my lack of love for the friendly feline.

My resolution that year, the second in the history of New Year’s Resolutions that has been kept so faithfully, was to not make New Year’s Resolutions henceforth. I have been diligent, like the Maginot Line, in keeping safe and secure this sacred duty. Unlike some, nay most, I have peered prophetically into the future and seen it lines with broken promises, shattered hopes and crushed dreams.

This seemed a loathsome and terrible burden to hoist upon posterity, and not willing to be part of the problem, I opted to be part of the solution. A solution that has so far proved as in vain in its hope as the War on Drugs or Hip Hop music.

This has caused me no end of pain and long-suffering head shaking as I watch while so many others fall where I have succeeded.

You may recall that back in October I joined some unnamed gym mostly to get on their monopoly of treadmills. My record was near spotless, as unblemished as an unblemishless thing that suffers no blemishes and would never be blemished by them. Yet, sadly, I must admit to watching the hordes descend from their Holiday gorging and tromp like cattle through the doors of my gym where, like locusts, they devoured every aerobic machine and workout device.

No treadmill for the Rob was to be found when I sojourned there on a merry January 2nd, 2007. No rowing machine, Stair Master, stationary bike, free weights, lease weights, or rent-to-own weights. No lifting machines for arms, legs, neck, inner thighs, outer thighs or even fingers. Even the cleaning supplies were being used by people who just wanted something, anything to burn calories.

At first, I was put off, even angry by this intrusion into my house, my place of fitness. Yet, as each day passes, more and more machines, once happy to give of themselves exclusively to hungry Resolutionites. Now, many are abandoned once more, while those who worked their Zyphoid Processes to feel the burn have abandoned them once more until the next year when a new horse will descend, eager to make this year different.

And I, meanwhile, smile happily, as they trudge, beaten and defeated, into the oblivion that is the number ten 2007 broken New Year’s Resolution. And here are the other nine for your viewing pleasure:

9. Donald Trump and Rosie O'Donnel: Keep a lower profile.

8. Steve Jobs: Rest on my laurells and not invent new stuff for Apple.

7. Britney Spears and Paris Hilton: Be named the Best Dressed.

6. George Bush: Never admit I'm wrong.

5. Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez: Institute sound fiscal policies.

4. Smokers: Breathe that magic flavor in the last bastion of true democracy!

3. MySpace: Increase standards.

2. French Louvre: Foster worldwide peace through art.

And the number one broken New Year's Resolution for 2007:

1. United Nations: Keep the United States in line.