Category: Funny Business

We’re now five days into a new year, so how are your resolutions going?

I’m guessing by this point some of you have already backed off your big plans to better yourself, and that’s not uncommon.

Too many times we make resolutions we simply can’t keep.

“Oh,” you say, “I’m going to quit stealing Jenna’s tuna salad from the break room fridge,” or “this is the year I stop cooking meth in my car.”

That’s crazy talk.

Instead, you should set attainable goals.

That’s what I do every Dec. 31, and I honestly can’t remember the last time I was unable to keep every single one of them.

The key is to sit down, make a list – a realistic one – and stick to it.

And to help you do just that, I’m going to share my 10 resolutions for 2018. And if you decide to adopt any and all of them for yourself, well, I’ll be flattered.

 

I will not ask anyone if they are “ready for Christmas”

This is a resolution you do not have to concern yourself with until the final two months of the year. Still, why does anyone ask this ridiculous question?

What would happen if we weren’t ready for Christmas? Would Christmas not come?

Of course not.

Christmas will be here every Dec. 25, ready or not. And I will not ask you if you are ready for it because it doesn’t matter and I don’t care.

Now Stephen Foster Memorial Day on Jan. 13 is another story.

There’s really never enough time to prepare for that.

 

I will not invade Iceland

This is far and away the easiest resolution to keep. Iceland is a long way from where I live and, to the best of my knowledge, no one in Iceland has ever offended me in any way.

Plus, I’m not a weapons guy. I have a Louisville Slugger baseball bat in the closet somewhere and a big wooden spoon, but nothing that would allow me to successfully subdue an entire people.

So, Iceland is safe from me.

Finland, however, might need to be on alert in 2019.

 

I will not watch an episode of “American Idol”

Never have, never will.

Karaoke is for drunks who feel the need to sing at dive bars. I did this once and the song I chose was a censored version of “Murder Was The Case” by Snoop Dogg.

Still haven’t quite lived that one down.

Anyway, “American Idol” is just televised karaoke, so I’ll take a hard pass.

 

I will not wear a tank top

Since I do not live in a  mobile home with a Confederate battle flag flying high above it; plan to star in a remake of the 1980 film “Cruising”; or play intercollegiate or professional basketball, there is no need for me to wear a tank top.

The danger of such an occurrence is nil.

 

I will not take in a poison dart frog as a pet

Sure they’re cute and colorful, but what the hell am I going to do with a poison dart frog? They’re only one-half to 2 inches long yet contain enough poison to kill 10 grown men.

Besides, I can’t think of 10 grown men I want killed at the moment. OK, maybe I can, but that’s a dark place I’ll steer clear of (to the best of your knowledge).

 

I will not watch any movie by Joel Schumacher with a comic book theme

To date he has done only one, the unholy abomination that was “Batman and Robin.”

I doubt he has plans to do another but if he changes his mind, I have a Louisville Slugger and wooden spoon at the ready.

 

I will not skydive

Jumping out of a plane?

You gotta be out of your freakin’ mind.

 

I will not order tater tots at Krispy Kreme

Only because they don’t sell ‘em.

 

I will not hunt or fish

I’m a vegetarian, but I’m not militant about it. I get that people like meat, and human beings have teeth designed to tear into meat.

Yet even when I was a flesh-eater, I never had any desire to go off in the woods and kill something.

I have fished, but never enjoyed it. Frankly, I don’t think the fish did, either.

 

I will not eat feta cheese

Why won’t I eat feta cheese?

I don’t know … why won’t you eat a raw goat scrotum?

Feta cheese is basically barf in crumble form. Not only do I not want it in my food, I don’t want in in my neighborhood.

Put another way, I’d rather eat potluck from a dumpster that this odious vermin vomit.

Anyway, I hope this helps as you navigate the rough waters of 2018 resolutions. And always remember … if you expect nothing from yourself, you’ll rarely be disappointed.

 

I’m gonna let you in on a little secret.

Unless you’re a neighbor who I know, Batman, or someone dressed as Batman, I will not answer the door if you come knocking.

You can pound and bang and scream and cry, but it’s no use.

By the time you get to the third knock, I’ll either be safely locked away in my Panic Room or so well hidden you’ll think no one is home.

Whatever it is you need, I can’t help you with.

Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying.

And you have the 1999 Tostitos Fiesta Bowl BCS National Championship Game to thank for it.

Before that game, in which Tennessee beat Florida State 23-16 to claim the championship of the 1998 season, I would usually go to the door if there was a knock and never give it a second thought.

Sometimes it was a Girl Scout hawking cookies, or occasionally someone trying to get me to buy aluminum siding. Regardless, the interactions were usually pleasant and brief.

This night was different.

I had the house to myself (except for my miniature dachshund, Otis) and all the supplies I needed to get through the game – a case of Coors Light, a pack of Ruffles potato chips, one can of Easy Cheese American, one can of Planters dry roasted peanuts, and the number of the regional medical center so I could punch it in as I was having my heart attack.

I had just positioned myself on the couch (about 10 minutes before kickoff) when there was a knock on the door.

When I opened it, there were three smiling gentlemen gathered on my porch.

“Good evening! How are you tonight?” one of them asked.

“I’m good. And you?” one of me answered (and asked).

“Outstanding. We’re with Big Box Church and we were hoping we could come in and talk to you for a bit.”

This, of course, was not going to happen. I was about to get my drink on and watch football, but even if I was only planning to sit back and enjoy an episode of “Everybody Loves Raymond,” I was not in the mood for a sermon.

“I’m not interested, but thanks,” I said. “The Fiesta Bowl is about to kick-off and I’m gonna watch that tonight.”

Another member of the front porch-squatters smiled broadly.

“Wow,” the broadly smiling one said. “We enjoy football, too.”

Then things got awkward.

“Well,” I said. “If you leave now you can get home in time to watch it.”

Not the most subtle hint, but at this point I was agitated.

“Well, we can talk while we watch,” the broadly smiling one said.

Then – and I kid you not – the dude actually put a foot over the threshold and tried to come into my house.

“Whoa,” I said, blocking is path. “You need to leave.”

At that point I gave the guy a Heisman straight-arm to push him back and slammed the door.

I mean, there’s pushy, and there’s get your face punched pushy.

And from that day forward, I have never answered the door without first checking who it was and making sure they fell into the “approved” category.

Fortunately now we have a front yard which is covered in pea gravel, so the minute someone steps onto our property, there is the sound of shoes-on-pebble.

Charlie, our Sheltie, is the first to hear it and he immediately heads to the back porch.

The two cats retire to the drawers underneath the futon.

Mary retreats to the bedroom, and I drop to the floor and serpentine to the stairs leading up the Panic Room, which is an attic room redesigned as a place to hide from those promoting commerce or religion.

There are some disadvantages, of course. Namely, I haven’t had a Girl Scout cookie in years.

Otherwise, though, it works out quite well.

Even though I no longer drink alcohol or eat Easy Cheese, I can still watch a ballgame in peace, knowing that if someone comes knocking they will be completely ignored.

Unless, as I said, I look out the peephole and see that it’s Batman.

The door is always open for the Dark Knight.

By Scott Adamson
Esteemed Film Critic

“Star Wars: The Last Jedi,” is the latest sequel in the long line of sequels that involve wars that take place among the stars.

At its core it’s a morality play about good, evil and special effects.

Just like the last movie, “Star Wars: The Force Awakens,” this movie stars Daisy Ridley as Rey, who is so poor she can’t afford a last name, and that guy who used to be on the HBO show “Girls” as Kylo Ren, who is like Darth Vader only thinner and with a relatively normal face.

Plus, he also speaks in his own voice, whereas the guy who played Darth Vader in the other movies had his voice dubbed by the man who says, “This Is CNN.”

John Boyega reprises his role as Huck Finn and Oscar Issac returns as Edgar Allan Poe.

Supreme Leader Snoke is portrayed by Caesar from “The Planet of the Apes” trilogy.

Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill) is also in the movie but mostly walks around in a robe because he’s retired.

Princess Leia (Carrie Fisher) is now more like a CEO or supervisor, but the robots and Bigfoot, which have been part of all 16 movies, are still the same and make fun noises for the kids to enjoy.

Bigfoot sounds like an elephant with a sinus infection.

Anyway, you’ll remember from the last movie that Rey was coming to grips with “The Force,” which is like a religion that allows you elevate things.

(It would be similar to going to a Joel Osteen show and seeing him float the collection plate across every aisle).

In this thrilling installment, spaceships fly through space and people play with laser guns and light sabers. There are plenty of well-choreographed fight scenes as well, which involve the kind of extraneous jumping and twisting not seen since “Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo.”

And while it sounds derivative, it’s important to note that in the early Star Wars movies the Rebel Alliance fought the Galactic Empire and in the modern sequels, the First Order fights the Resistance.

The only similarities, other than the fact the Galactic Empire is just like the First Order and the Rebel Alliance is identical to the Resistance, is that the Stormtroopers are still the bad guys.

It’s never addressed in the movie, but I’m assuming when the Galactic Empire folded its first order of business was to sell the Stormtroopers to the First Order.

Is this movie “Citizen Kane?”

No.

“Citizen Kane” was made in 1941 and just about every star who was in it is now dead.

But if you want to spend three hours at the theater enjoying escapist entertainment, then see “Star Wars: The Last Jedi.”

Or “Justice League.”

Or “Thor: Ragnarok.”

Or “Ferdinand.”

Or “Coco.”