My New Year's Resolutions
by Bill Shein

Beginning today, I will stop claiming that I pitched three scoreless innings in the 1982 World Series, because that is an outright lie. (It was actually one and one-third innings, in 1979, during which I allowed 49 runs.)

I will no longer tell people I meet at bars that I am a Kennedy — from the little-known, half-Jewish, Lower-East-Side-of-New-York part of the family.

If I cannot refrain from telling people that I am a Kennedy, I will at least stop inviting them to "drop by our Hyannis Port compound sometime, because as we Kennedys like to say, 'Mi casa es su casa!'"

When discussing politics with someone with whom I strongly disagree, I will no longer just pretend to be listening while they speak their nonsense. Instead, I will act like a mature adult and listen intently for at least a few seconds before I yawn in an exaggerated manner, pretend to nod off, begin to snore loudly, and then suddenly turn and walk away.

I will stop moving objects using only the power of my mind, because, based on my experience, it really seems to freak people out.

I will stop telephoning local businesses to ask if they have Prince Albert in a can, and if so, to let him out before he suffocates, because, well, there are only about 14 people on Earth who remember that gag, and even though I always hang up the phone and just laugh and laugh and laugh — and then cry, then laugh, then cry a little more, and then laugh one final time — it's probably time to let it go.

I will stop making New Year's Day resolutions — ones that only apply today, not for the whole year — because vowing to spend more time with the kids for just a day, or eat healthy today, or stop making those Prince-Albert-in-a-can prank calls for one day only, well, that ain't much of a feat.

I will no longer divide the world into two kinds of people: Those who are completely condescending and those who are total idiots. Instead, I will selflessly embrace the world as one glorious mass of miraculous human life stuff that just wants to love, be loved by others, and, if at all possible, never find itself trapped in an elevator with one of the aforementioned idiots.

I will no longer tell people I meet in the supermarket checkout line that I work for the paramilitary wing of the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace.

In 2006, I will commit to physical fitness, and hereby vow to exercise for 60 minutes every day. But if I miss a day, then during that particular week I promise to work out six times for 70 minutes, so that the weekly total remains the same. In general, though, I may choose to hit the gym for 84 minutes, five times per week, because that may be easier to manage.

Now, should I get busy at work, my routine may shift to four workouts of 105 minutes, unless I'm totally jammed up, and then I will select three days that will include two hours and 20 minutes of vigorous exercise. (Of course, there may be weeks when I only have time for two workouts, each lasting a Lance Armstrongian 210 minutes.)

Of course, I might simplify the whole thing: On the first day of each month, as well as during the first two hours of the second day, I will do nothing but run and bike and lift weights and swim — an incredible, super-human workout that meets my goal of (an average of) 60 minutes of exercise per day.

Alternately, in 2006 I will spend 60 minutes per day eating ice cream. We'll see.

I will stop trying to impress today's kids with my easy familiarity with youth culture, which means no longer calling them "hep cats," describing their music as "groovy," or enthusiastically proclaiming that Neil Diamond is "the ginchiest."

I will try very hard to stop telling people I meet on airplanes that I am the wild-haired Australian actor Yahoo Serious, star of the 1988 hit, "Young Einstein," and that I recently took a job selling a futuristic hair-cutting device that attaches to a vacuum cleaner — the very hair-cutting device I use to maintain my new clean-cut look.

When pulled over for speeding, I will no longer claim that I was trying to pass a car with a bumper sticker that said, "I'm Following Jesus!" so I could see what Bethlehem's favorite son is driving these days.

Finally, I will stop telling people that I invented Velcro, Post-It notes, the internal-combustion engine, time travel, Google, the high-five, and the whole concept of New Year's resolutions. Because I am nothing if not a man of truth.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Bill Shein wishes you a happy, healthy, and peaceful 2006. He also asks that you let Prince Albert out of that can.

(This column originally appeared in the Berkshire Eagle newspaper on January 1, 2006. Join a discussion about this column in Bill's blog. And read Bill's previous column, "An American Intervention").