Dear Giant Squid,

How can I keep my New Year's resolution?

Thanks,
John Boehner

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Dear John,

I have, of course, long been fascinated with the New Year, and its associated resolution, but have little delved into the notoriously quick dissolution of this annual resolve. As such, to answer your query, I decided to once again query my attending staff about their resolutions, in the hopes that they might explicate how they intended to maintain these new lifestyles in the coming, wearying months.

Jarwaun, teenagéd typist: Every year me and my kid bro' Trael and our Pops, we all sit down on January 1st, and we write out our resolutions and put 'em on the refrigerator with a magnet so we look at 'em lots. We all decide what each of us gotta work on, and whoever goes the longest on what he's working on, he gets a whole Hot-N-Ready to hisself and gets to pick a new DVD. My grades been slipping, so I'm working on hitting my homework before dinner every night. That's my bit. [Frowns] But it's already slipping, and probably me and Pops gonna end up watching another damn Veggie Tales and eatin' Ramen while Trael eats hisself sick on pepperoni pizza. Again.

Rob Miller, occasional lab-assistant and general boon companion: Yeah. It's a bunk-ass year on resolutions; no one's even minimally holding it together, as far as I can see. I resolved not to get caught jerking it publicly, and [shrugs]

Molly Reynolds, current lab director: [gapes wordlessly]

Mr. Leeks, certified public accountant: This year I resolved to learn to play the harp—I'm sorry; perhaps my mind wandered, but it does seem that Mr. Miller's grammar implied that he was arrested for publicly pleasuring himself.

Rob Miller, occasional lab-assistant: I wasn't arrested—the whole point was that it was a resolution I figured I couldn't help but keep for twelve months, but then I got that iPhone I lifted off that Mojo editor dude in SF, and the display is sharp-as-hell, and there are these porno sites that are, like, totally optimized for iPhone, and it turns out the lock was busted in this Popeye's Chicken bathroom—my point is that, like, really, this wasn't my fault. Seriously. For reals, the full text of my resolution was "I'm resolving not to get caught jerking it in public by a dude with a lazy eye." That shit should have been bulletproof, but then an old dude with a whack right eye pushes in with his mop and rolling bucket while me and Jenna Jameson are making touch, and the resolution shit is done before its hardly even started.

Molly Reynolds, current lab director: That's . . .

Jarwaun, teenagéd typist: [quietly] I ain't done a bit of homework since we started back to school, and I missed a quiz because I fell asleep on the locker room toilet. I been stayin' up all hours playin' Call of Duty.

Mr. Leeks, certified public accountant: In all honesty, I've likewise fibbed about the harp; my actual resolution was to forego McDonald's breakfast, a promise broken this very morning. As well as yesterday. And the day prior.

Molly Reynolds, current lab director: Yeah, OK, fuck it; I was going to lie, too, but there's no point: I had the same resolution as Leeks, and actually violated it basically immediately, since I ended up spending midnight at a McDonald's. You can't get a AAA guy to show up in less than two hours on New Year's, and when he does show up, he'll have one arm, and you'll have to change the fucking tire yourself, anyway.

Rob Miller, occasional lab-assistant: [head nod] Right on. So we're all basically the same, see?

Jarwaun, teenagéd typist: No, Rob-o, we really, really ain't. Not the same as you, m'man.

So it would seem that the most likely course to maintaining a New Year's resolution for at least a week as to set your aims exceedingly low, check your tire pressure often, get plenty of sleep, and be sure that the bathroom's lock is functional and engaged.

I Remain in the New Year,
Your Giant Squid
Editor-in-Chief
PMjA