++year

Happy New Year, everyone. It's not even 2005-01-01 01:00:00 EST as I write this, and already I'm surfing the web just as I would on a typical Friday night. I'm surrounded by tipsy people and I don't know if I've been drinking heavily or the heat is just turned up too darn high. I must be the most boring person on Earth.

But that's OK, because 2005 holds a great deal of promise. I hope that people will acknowledge Paris Hilton to be the flavor of the month she really is. 2005 promises more in the way of cruel reality programming, but hopefully there will be much more nudity and less bitching about it by uptight parents' groups.

Seriously, people. Nipples are not subversive. I am still dumbfounded that people were more concerned by seeing a nipple for a fraction of a second than by the previous three minutes of bumping and grinding wherein two people lasciviously sang about how they were imminently preparing to have sex.

So, I say, 2005 should be a year wherein we grow comfortable with the things we cannot change. 2005 should be the year of "Yeah? So? Get over it." Tsunamis are a natural event, and no one is to blame for when they occur. Breasts, too, are a natural thing, and no one is to blame for when they occur, either.

"Accept the things we cannot change," the old adage goes. And somewhere along the way, we forgot that. I blame lawyers and the silent approval given to the at-large "I'm a victim, too" mentality.

So for 2005, I suggest you resolve to not sue someone – at least not for something stupid – and also to get nude. Get nude and, just so we can be sure about this sort of thing, send me pictures.

Women only.

As though I needed to specify.