These were my New Year’s resolutions:

1. Keep my New Year’s resolutions this year.

2. Stop being such a hater.

3. Quit making so many lists.

I’m only interested in keeping the first one. (HA!)

The trickiest of these resolutions, however, is the “stop being such a hater” one. This is tough, both as a humor columnist and a thoroughly-socialized male raised on pure, Midwestern stoicism.

Ever notice how much easier it is to list things you don’t like? Maybe I should speak for myself. For every movie I love, I probably hate about 10. Why? I DON’T KNOW. STOP ASKING.

As easy it is to write “I don’t like blah blah blah” columns, I’m being stabbed by my insides by my hatred as a result of this.

I’ve read that in 16th century Japan, monks would draw out their demons by literally drawing them out. I’ve decided to get the hate out of my system for the year by means of a complete misinterpretation of that process. Since I can’t draw and refuse to teach myself how, I’m going to write out my demons, letting the hatred and negativity spill across the page like dogs in a dog-sprawling contest. Enjoy!

I hate:

Newspapers. Print is dead. No, worse, print is undead. That’s right: ZOMBIES.

Bricks. They stack up. They make walls. Yeah, BIG DEAL.

Electric light. If it weren’t for light bulbs, WE COULD ALL BE IN BED BY NOW.

Haircuts. One word: FUTILE.

Effective communication. Actively listening? Why don’t you actively SHUT UP?

Shaving. By denying hair, you’re denying nature. THINK ABOUT IT, MAN.

Radio. If I wanted to hear people talk… wait… I DON’T WANT TO HEAR PEOPLE TALK.

Water. Seventy percent of our bodies, 100 percent LAME.

Pizza. Delicious? Yes. I hate pizza, but I like its taste. Does that make sense? I DON’T CARE.

The Star Wars trilogies. If I wanted to see people running around and shooting at each other in space for 12 hours, I’d arrange a Thanksgiving dinner with my family on the moon. HA!

Religion. Oh, look at me! I believe things because I want them to be true! Give me money! You’re ugly. That’s right, I called you ugly. WHERE’S YOUR GOD NOW, UGLY?

Clocks. If it weren’t for clocks, this column would be done before deadline. Also, I’D BE IN BED BY NOW.

The desert. Sand is only fun when it’s by bodies of water. OASES DON’T COUNT.

Finger/toenails. Good for what? Scratching? BIG DEAL.

Communism. The means of production shouldn’t belong to the people. It should belong to elephants, because elephants are HUGE.

Constellations. I don’t understand. Do you just connect the dots? IT DOESN’T MAKE ANY SENSE.

Drums. WE’RE TRYING TO SLEEP OVER HERE.

Phones. If I wanted to talk to people… wait…PEOPLE DON’T WANT TO TALK TO ME.

lifeline@cm-life.com

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