Now every year, I just write down crap with no intention of doing anything but re-discovering the sense of humor I lost along with my 401k during the reign of Pinocchio Flight Jacket and 28 Gauge Dick Cheney. By the way, if I've offended anybody by earlier remarks about those two saintly men, I resolve to apologize.

I further resolve not to say anything unkind or uncivil about Sen. "Poodle Pat" Roberts, or "Sanctified Sam" Brownback. In fact, I will not venture any other honest opinions involving politics, religion, or the weather. I will recite the 23rd psalm while shoveling the friggin' snow. Finally...

And as penance for tsk-tsk'ing at our ex-president's saying nook-YOU-ler, I now resolve always to say Feb-ROO-ary. (It's not Feb-YOO-ary, you liberal dumb butts.) Americans, let's live 2010 in domestic tranquility; this eternal squabbling is just the pot calling the kettle... well, you know, Obama-colored. Can't we all just get along?

I further resolve to make it crystal clear when I actually mean what I write and when I don't. I call it my Debbie resolution. Debbie, a former student and now a Haysite, tells me that in my defense she recently told a critic that "Bob doesn't always mean what he says. Sometimes he just wants to see how people will react."

So... *from this day forward, when I really mean something, I will place an asterisk marking the spot where my sincerity begins. I will place a second asterisk when insincerity has resumed.*

As for Obama and the Democratic majority in the senate, I resolve not to throw skunk pee their way for what they're saying is health care reform--a giveaway of taxpayer money to private insurers. It ranks with the Republican giveaway of taxpayer money in that sell-out to drug companies--innocuously called Medicare Part D.

Speaking of right wing economics, I resolve once more to read Atlas Shrugged, Ayn Rand's 1100 plus page novel promoting capitalist greed--word for tedious word. I will not obsess over the fact I'll soon be 72 and short of time. I've previously tried double-dosing on branch-water and Irish whiskey to ease the pain--but I can afford Bushmills only by the liter, not by the vat. A liter gets me through 24 to 31 pages, depending. Incidentally, Rand died in 1982, the year I first resolved. Since she was an atheist, I'm not sure where she wound up, but let's hope she's cut the book in half, halved the halves, and crossed out every other word.

Next, a municipal resolution.

Here in the metrop-a-village of Bogue, we have a fancy new 4' X 6' speed limit sign for the gravel and shale road coming into town. Richard Petty wannabe's often whiz into our little burg "like a bat out of hell" (as one good Christian lady testily put it). Besides the danger of running over a stray cat or a senior citizen like me, in dry weather the cloud of shale dust coats everything within four square blocks.

As constructive examples, my dog Blackie and I resolve never to enter into the city walking faster than the posted 25 mph - with a caveat for bladder issues. Blackie is cavalier and simply extinguishes anything over 12 in. high, afire or not afire. Me, I try to maintain some degree of decorum, which often necessitates pressing the accelerator. Of necessity, I must drag the dog along.

If the aforementioned sign doesn't work, a friend e-mailed me a photo of one in rural Montana which I resolve to install. It is a hand-lettered 4' x 8' plywood sheet, suspended from a cable between two fence posts. It reads "SLOW DOWN YOU SUNZABITC... (yeah, that word).

*My oh-so Better Half has often objected that "You (me) have a paper or a book or a magazine on every level surface in our home!" I hereby resolve to change my attitude and my behavior. If it costs me a new end table, so be it.

The best of the New Year to friend and foe. I hope your New Year's Eve was wonderful, that you stayed sober, stayed home, or had a designated driver. If you have a hangover, I hope it got better as you read this column.*