2018: It's Not "All Good" - At All - But It's All Good

This photograph is old enough to drink - and it probably should. I know I've used it in previous posts, but it's just so apropos, I couldn't help but bring it back. Look how "great" Bart is, again. So much great!

Me: Hey, 2018. Happy last day of your life!

2018: Hi, you! Happy-- wait. What?

Me: Nothing. So. Here we are. It's December 31st...

2018: Uh oh...

Me: Yeah. Uh oh. I knew we'd end up here, because I'm nothing if not a pragmatist - and a realist. So, let's do the band-aid thing.

2018: The what? And you're a what?

Me: This is a band aid, and I'm ripping it off. We're breaking up.

2018: That's dumb. What a dumb idea. I'm the best year you've ever had, and you know it. It's all good, baby.

Me: I'm pretty sure we agreed that "it's all good" was something that we were not saying, anymore. It's so... 1998. Also, calling me "baby?" No. We talked about that, too.

2018: You love it.

Me: I do not. So, listen - I said, at the end of 2017, that it would be a challenge for you to be worse than last year. That sounds almost cute, now. I'm sure it wasn't easy, and I admit that it was close, but congratulations, I guess. You did it. You kinda were.

2018: What are you talking about? I was great.

Me: Okay. At this point, I feel obligated to inform you that I know what gaslighting means.

2018: That sounds fake. I don't know about that fake news stuff. I was probably - lots of people have told me this - I was potentially the greatest year since ever.

Me: 

2018: Are you still there?

Me: I should go.

2018: We have nothing but fun. I don't see what the problem is. Remember March Madness? That was awesome.

Me: I don't remember March Madness.

2018: Well, what about that tax cut? I fixed everything with that. 

Me: You fixed literally nothing, and since I live in a "blue" state, I've spent 9 months living in fear of the refund I'm used to becoming a debt I'll owe, in a few months. Nice.

2018: But I brought much-needed rains...

Me: Floods. You brought floods - and record-breaking hurricanes and fires. You wiped a couple of nice little towns off the map and killed a bunch of people.

2018: They deserved it. They weren't my people.

Me: You're a unit of time. Isn't everyone your people?

2018: They didn't like me, so maybe they shouldn't have done what they did to get killed. It's not my fault. You're missing the point on purpose to make me look bad. Unfair!

Me: The "point?" What is this "point" that I'm missing? 

2018: The point is, I'm the greatest year possibly ever, and you can't admit it, because you've been brainwashed by 2016's deep-year operation, and it's sad. SAD! I treated you so fantastic, and you repay me by showing ZERO loyalty. You're very low IQ, and I just realized you're very ugly, and a loser.

Me: I think we're done, here. 

2018: Wait! Wait! What about the good times? Even your fake memory can't cover up the good times.

Me: Like what? What good times?

2018: Um... Simple Minds?

Sarah, Charlie, Cherisse, Jim, Gordie, Ged,, and a sold-out 9:30 Club.

Me: Okay, that was pretty special - but I think the band and the audience provided that magic...

2018: Nope. All me! I did that! But you can't bear to give me any credit! Disgraceful!

Me: Whatever, '18. I'm hanging up, now...

2018: But what about when I killed those children because their parents tried to save them by bringing them to the US without being white and financially secure? That was hilarious!

Me: Are you kidding me??

2018: Okay, okay. I have to go, anyway. And I never liked you. But I have just two words to say to you...

Me: *sigh* Two words. Fine. What?

2018: Lord. Stanley's. Cup.

The Greatest Player, with the metallic manifestation of his greatest dream.

Me:

2018: See?

Me: You had your moments. Let's just say goodbye.

2018: Okay. I-broke-up-with-you-first-I-never-even-liked-you-and-you're-ugly-and-low-IQ-and-I-win-bye!

Me. *sigh*

2017... It's Not Me - It's You

Not sure why I bothered trying to capture this, but you get the gist...

2017: What are you doing?

Me: I'm chilling the martini glasses and waiting for you. Where are you?

2017: Oh, I'm not coming.

Me: What? Why not? What's up?

2017: I think we should break up.

Me: Really? By phone? Huh. I kind of thought you would tell me by text - or maybe via Twitter. Anyway, you're right. It's time. You're terrible, and I should never have started seeing you to begin with. So, more crabcakes and fancy nibbles for me tonight, then. Good - I'm really hungry.

2017: Yes. I know it stings, but--

Me: No, no - I'm fine. You've been awful to me almost since day one. We're clearly not right for each other. In the roster of years with whom I've lived, you're definitely one of the worst.  The only reason I haven't broken up with you is that I'm afraid of what you'll do to me - on social media and otherwise.

2017: You'll recover from this trauma. I'm sorry to ruin your New Year's Eve.

Me: I'm fine, really. You just made my night! It's all good!

2017: I can tell you're hurting. I never meant to hurt you, but I should tell you that I've been seeing someone else.

Me: See? You don't even listen to me. I told you, I'm totally cool with-- Wait. What?

2017: I've sort of been seeing someone.

Me: Really? Who?

2017: Everybody.

Me: Huh. Well, obviously this is for the best. Okay, take care of yourself, 2017...

2017: Wait - don't hang up yet!

Me: Okay...

2017: I know you're in shock. Do you need me to come over and talk about this? We could have a goodbye date.

Me: That's a terrible idea. You're an abusive monster, and I'm not going to endure any more of your people-slaughtering, or your Tom Petty-killing, or your racist, sexist, infantile leaders, or your natural disasters, or any of it. I'm going to go make my celebratory freedom martini, now...

2017: What do you mean, 'celebratory?' If I didn't know better, I'd say you're happy that I'm breaking up with you.

Me: Wow. You don't know better. I am happy that you're breaking up with me. I should never have started up with you. Listen - let's not make this ugly. I'm good. You're... you. Let's part ways amicably. 

2017: Maybe you'll be less distraught--

Me: I'm so not distraught.

2017: --if we reminisce about all the good times. You know - sort of soften the blow...

Me: What blow? And really, other than most of baseball season and the week we spent apart in October, what good times? 

2017: There was that Bruce Springsteen concert, and the Cubs finally won the World Series. Remember? So cool!

Me: Those were both in 2016! And seriously, it would take me all night to recite just a quarter of the veritable rota of horrors, tragedies, lies, and insults to my intelligence that you have wrought for at least the last 345 days.Take care, '17. I'm outta here.

2017: But! What about... Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands? That was pretty sweet.

Me: Are you kidding, right now?

2017: What?

Me: I'm not doing this. I did this with 2010, and it was pointless. I'm hanging up, now.

2017: No! One more thing! Then you can go.

Me: Ugh. What?

2017: Okay, I know I've been a pretty bad year for almost every person on the planet...

Me: Every good person, at least. A lot of the shitty ones love you.

2017: So, just think how much better your next year will look, by comparison. 

Me: I never say that something can't be worse, but yes. It will be a challenge for 2018 to be worse than you. So, good job. You've managed to get us all to reset our expectations - straight back to rock-bottom.

2017: You're welcome.

Me: Exactly. Okay. Hanging up. That's it, 2017. Your damage may last a generation or more, but at least you can't add anything to it, after tonight. Goodbye.

2017: The eclipse was good, though, right?

Me: *sigh* Yes, if I live to be a thousand, I will never be able to adequately describe the divinity and perfection of the eclipse. You got me, there.

2017: I win!

Me: ((CLICK))


Happy New Year, everyone! Today's nonsense was prompted by the OUR WRITE SIDE "Two For Tuesday" words Rota and Roster.