Jolly old Saint Nick apparently didn't have what I wanted most of all this year — a pair of new cylinder heads for a Ford 3.8-liter V-6 — but it's not like I've never been disappointed before.

All in all, 1996 was a pretty good year for disappointment. For one thing, somebody actually won the Presidential election; it was, perhaps, too much to hope that all of them could lose. Meanwhile, Christianity slid toward total domination by latter-day Sadduccees, television continued its long march to irrelevance, and Windows 95 managed not to die.

It's hard to expect much improvement out of 1997. For sure, I wouldn't mind seeing a few more months of the bull market for the sake of my 401(k). And I don't object too strenuously to the idea of an entire year without a Congressional election, which means that the Billionaire Boys' Club might actually get a couple months' worth of work done amid all the political posturing and the desperate attempts to build war chests for 1998. But mostly, what I want is a nice long nap, without anyone interrupting to ask if I want to change my long-distance carrier.

What's that? You say you want a resolution for the new year? Well, you know, unless someone buys me a new monitor, I stay at 800 by 600.

The Vent

#35
1 January 1997

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 Copyright © 1997 by Charles G. Hill