It's the first of the year, which means you have about 18 hours to feel virtuous about your resolutions. Everything seems possible, no? New year, new you! Maybe — if you've entered the witness protection program.
But even then it's tough: "OK, you need to do things differently now, because otherwise they'll find you and break your legs for testifying. So no more walking the dog shirtless, smoking a Cuban cigar."
First week: "I'm wearing a polo shirt and chewing some plug. They'll never find me. I'm a new man!"
Second week: "I'll just wear a tank top and smoke a Honduran cheroot."
Third week: "I don't have to button my shirt. And who can tell it's a Cuban?"
Fourth week: "Hello, Agent Johnson? There's been a car parked outside my house all day every day for a week now."
We are who we are, and it is ridiculous to think we become someone else because it's January. If anything, we want to be more of who we are. If you say, "I resolve to eat more French toast with maple syrup and powdered sugar as gossamer-soft and white as the dandruff of my guardian angel," people think you're daft. If you say, "It is cold and bleak outside, so I resolve to deprive myself of French toast entirely; for breakfast I will lick a hot brick that has been rubbed in crushed flaxseed," you get nods of approval.
Of course you should try to improve yourself, but don't set yourself up for failure by participating in this New Year's resolution nonsense. No, it's much more satisfying to make resolutions ... for other people. Such as: