New Years Resolutions. For You.

The Angry Czeck realizes that he’s arriving a little late to the cockfight with a New Year’s Resolutions Post, but I had a damned hard time coming up with suitable changes to make in my life. Should I give up carbs? Read more books? Try a new haircut?

Then I realized that it would be far easier for you to change for the Angry Czeck, than for the Angry Czeck to change for you! I’m perfect. You’re the ones ruining everything.

Instead of gnashing my teeth, I’ve compiled a handy list of resolutions for you to follow in 2009. It was a lot of work, so the polite thing to do would be to apply these principles immediately. Don’t thank me with words. Thank me with deeds or cash.

Global Warming Deniers should stop being smug on cold days. Every winter we experience a snap of cold weather. I don’t have to stick my head outside to know which days they are. I just have to listen for the usual dopey comments from The Global Warming Deniers. “There’s fresh powder in Aspen. I guess nobody told them about global warming! Ha.” Listen, Chuckles, you’re not helping, you’re hurting. I know that accepting the problem means you might have to deal with it. I know it’s hard to believe that a century of pumping unnatural elements into the air would change the fabric of the atmosphere, but trust me, it does. And if you don’t believe me, how about believing the word of the scientific community? You know, the same guys who revealed that the earth was round and that cave giants don’t make wind.

Cease all wearing of Razorback apparel to Arkansas State games. If you can’t imagine a fan wearing a Sooner cap to an Oklahoma State Cowboy game, then you haven’t spent enough time in Arkansas, where sports incest is as common as churches and clap. My anger bubbles to fury when I see a Hog shirt on an idiot at a Red Wolves game. Does anybody disrespect UofA by wearing handsome A-State merchandise to Razorback games? I doubt it. I say, if you have the choice between wearing a Hog hat and a set of rusty iron anal beads to an A-State game, do us all a favor and opt of the anal beads. I’ll be less offended.

It looks even dumber at a Red Wolves game.

Stop telling me how crazy you are. You’re not crazy, you’re annoying. There’s not even a big difference. Furthermore, you’re loud, boring, dorky, and you dress like a bowling shoe.

If you sell coffee, stop drinking it immediately. This would be a service not just to me but to all of humanity. Consider this post an intervention. Caffeine doesn’t make you witty or more interesting. It only increases the likelihood that you’ll bore me with meaningless prattle while I endlessly wait for a cup of coffee that will cost me more than two bones. Speaking of coffee and bones:

Remove the tip box, you brazen coffee whores. I’m aiming Anger-Beams™ right at you, Starbucks. The low-functioning kid at Burger King managed to assemble for me a bag of fries, a hamburger, and an enormous soft drink without sticking his hand out for more cash. Meanwhile, you’re shaking me down because you just poured me the most expensive cup of coffee on Earth.

Not pictured: The Angry Czeck waiting furiously for coffee.

Mail your kid-eating pit bull to France. To tell you the truth, I’m just including the pit bull bit to increase my web traffic. After all, pit bull owners are hopelessly insane, and they’ll read anything with the words “pit” and “bull” attached to it. By the way, you’re stupid if you own a pit bull. It’s a not a fact, just a gut feeling.

If you must devote your Facebook status to Jesus, cease-and-desist with the ALL-CAPS. I know. You’re excited about Jesus and you want everyone else to know. I’m no Apostle, but I’m going to take a swing at this thing and guess that Jesus doesn’t really need your obnoxiously big type. (Harold is glad that JESUS IS IN HIS LIFE!!!!!) Again, not a fact. Just a gut feeling.

Come to peace with your Obama Fever. Merely that Obama is soon to name the nation’s first federal Chief Technology Officer and beams his weekly addresses on You Tube gives me a tingly feeling. He’s no dust bag, that Obama. Plus, it’s nice to know that our new President won’t have to skulk to his inauguration while avoiding a barrage of eggs. I’d also like it if you bitter Republicans would come up with a better slam than “You drank the Kool-Aid.” How droll. How Cheneyesque. Only you would adopt a line that was relevant 30 years ago. Peace out.

Unlike 2001 and 2005, poster board and
big magic markers will see a
significant sales drop in 2009

Pay more attention to America’s biggest threat: black holes. We just found one in the center of our own galaxy, people. They’re creeping up on us.

Firebomb the Olive Garden for subjecting mankind to their cheesy TV ads. If the people who dine in Olive Garden commercials truly represent the American cultural landscape, then we’re in trouble. They are exactly who the terrorists want to murder-bomb*: giggling dorks that have sacrificed their testicles for pasta primavera and a bottomless basket of breadsticks. Every time I see an Olive Garden commercial, I think I’ve accidentally turned on WGN.

*”Murder Bomber” is the new term for “suicide bombers” I discovered on FOX.com. I guess the old moniker didn’t sound deplorable enough.

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