Happy New Year to all!  Hopefully by now we are all well rested and those nasty hangovers are behind us, at least until tomorrow morning.  This really is my favorite time of the year.  I await it anxiously through each season.  As the holidays roll around it usually reaches flashpoint, only to have me explode with joy sometime following the winter solstice. This usually coincides with the family Von Rumorator bidding me adieu and moving to their winter residence in Portugal.  Only then in the lonely stillness of winter can I truly turn within myself to celebrate the past year’s pillages and lives ruined.  Then usually by my fourth or fifth bottle of St. Emilion I start to dream about the future and set down my new year’s resolutions. 
           
I’ve been keeping a record of my resolutions for roughly the past 40 years I find it most useful during my winter reflections.  Some of my finer resolutions and achievements of past are as follows.

1967—Lead race riots in Detroit.
1973—Forced disappearance of over 3000 Chileans
1977—Kill Elvis Aaron Presley
1988—Introduction of Zebra Mussels into the Great Lakes.
1996—Banging chicks
2004— Named Grand Marshall in the Mondovi, Wisconsin Memorial Day Parade, an event I later missed due to a malarial flare up.

But this isn’t all about me it.  Libelees from around the globe have been checking in and letting me know what they have planned for the 2008.  Big plans all about.

Karl Sheerar said, “For 2007 I’m really going to crack down and get those dishes done.  I mean, I know I got a dishwasher and all, but fuck, seriously there are a lot of them. They’ll get gone Tuesday, seriously.  I won’t get any more weed until then.”

ZagBeast has checked in and tells me this is going to be the year he finally finishes that novel.  It’s not that he hasn’t been working on it.  It’s just that the translation from the Zagspeak is difficult.  He is still working on the opening line “What do I always tell you?  Ten deep will blow this spot.  Now, toss it up, throw some down, and own that mess like PG and some vile shit, cousin.”  It’s a love story.

Nate Moe has decided he is going to start putting in four days a week.  Similarly Grundy Van Grunsven has decided to start putting only 70 hours a week.  With that extra time he is planning on building that skate ramp in his basement, which will allow Greg Machotka and Travis Shoen to get their “shit back” and have someplace to drink forties and smoke cigs where the police won’t hassle them.

Andy Love called in from New Zealand.  The connection was pretty crappy, mostly do to the typical EndZed telephone being made of a seashell, sheep’s hooves, and a plate of cornbread, but I did hear something about bi-weekly showings of Teen Wolf, which seems pretty boss.

Stephen Cleary, absent for quite some time, resolved to change the Eesa marketing campaign after realizing that die-cuts are way more effective then the softcore smut he sent me a few weeks ago.  Stephen, it’s simple: die-cuts get stuck up everywhere. That rag you sent out only gets stuck together and to the Lubriderm bottle next to my bed.

David Machotka has decided he is going to “make bitches recognize.”

Deacon Deacon plans to spend the next year making a documentary about the seventh most important band to ever come from Minneapolis.  “Too Hesh for Grunge: The Soul Asylum story” should be terry much a let down unless he just films Dave Pirner pissing in our ears, with Runaway Train looped over and over, like, six times for the soundtrack.

Kennedy and PK are making moves to get huge. Their latest venture, Peeping Tom Tree Forts, has pledged to have forts (fully equipped with a telescope and binoculars) up across the street from every private high school in the Twin Cities metro area.

Norm’s kids, Ben and Abbey, sent me their resolutions written in shit on a diaper. Looks like solid foods are in their future. My I also suggest a bit less corn. 

LV promises to snowboard.  

Talianna, everyone’s favorite Bjorkland-Heeb hybrid, will be tithing 20% this year. However it’s important to note she is member of the church of JP Morgan Chase, and retirement at fifty seems like a great deal to everyone. 

Colby’s all ready for the coming year.  It being an election year he is looking forward to playing both the democrat and republican cards, depending on with whom he is speaking. Then getting smashed up and opting not to vote on account of his hangover. A true American.

Blaze says he ain’t changing a goddamn thing. Wu-tang forever muthafucka!

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