New Years Resolutions From the Chuckmeister

Well, my friends, it's that time again.  Time for clearing my figurative throat and uttering some more of those resolutions.  You know, the ones that we (that would be you) always make, and we (that would be you) never keep.  
Except for me.  The Chuckmeister.  I always keep my resolutions.  It's just that I never make resolutions I can't keep.  Which means my resolutions are, well, strange.  And here are a few more strange ones to whet your appetite.  

1.  Instead of drinking three bottles of wine and staggering off to bed at a decent hour, I resolve to drink those same three bottles, or maybe even four, and going to bed later.  Not too much time left for the Chuckmeister on this side of the grass.  Might as well enjoy as much of it as possible.

2.  Having already recognized that hyper-liberalism is a true mental illness, I resolve to take it a little easier on these unfortunates than normal.  After all, just like the gay are born gay, I'm guessing the Libbies are born commie pinko weenies.  It's not their fault, right?  It's just not fair to hold them responsible for their own shortcomings.

3.  I resolve to be nicer, kinder and more gentle with those who just frankly aren't as smart as I am.  And their number is legion.  I mean, lots and lots of folks are in that ignominious category.  Not you, of course.  You read my enlightened little blog.  But almost everybody else is in that grouping. 

4.  I resolve to spend my remaining "wealth" on only the important things. Junk food, great wine, high-quality entertainment and my grandkids.  My kids are not included, because Mrs. Chuckmeister and I have already given them boat-loads of help already.

5.  I resolve to post an essay on this, my (in)famous little blog more often than my usual once every couple of weeks or or so.  With exception of the time during which we moved to our new digs in Wine Country (Fortress Chuckmeister), I've averaged about that.  But that, according to my tens of fans, is just not enough.  So, prepare for even more Ramblings of This Troubled Mind.

6. I resolve to go to the shooting range more often than in past years.  As my eyes begin to lose their hawk-like, world-renowned acuity, it takes a bit more practice in order to be able to drop an inbred miscreant from twenty paces.  But I should still be considered armed and dangerous.  I issue this little challenge to anyone likely to bust unannounced into the Fortress Chuckmeister looking for some spare change:  Don't.  

7.  I resolve to get a bit more exercise than normal. Taking out the garbage, shaving, and refilling my wine cooler is no longer proving to be enough to keep my "guns" loaded.  Now, I intend to get up from my comfy lair on my overstuffed Encantada leather couch and go to the bathroom twice an hour instead of the usual once.

8.  Lastly, I resolve to gain ten pounds.  It's so much easier, by the way, to gain it than it is to lose it.  And it's so much easier to keep resolutions like that one than the ones that involve Marie Osmond and her Nutri-System fix...