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I don’t do New Years resolutions. I just don’t.

Knowing that most people fail to keep their resolutions past 4 weeks is depressing enough and I once read somewhere that February is the busiest time of the year for mortuaries. I’ve connected these two factoids in my mind and have developed a loose conspiracy theory surrounding the inhuman forces behind the tradition of making New Years resolutions, the employment of morticians and those buzzards over at Hallmark using New Years and Valentines days as a refined Machiavellian sort of population control.

Oh yeah, I quit cussing. Not as a resolution, but more or less because my spoken vocabulary has devolved to the point where I can hold my end of a somewhat meaningful conversation using only profanities and a few well placed adjectives. Variety is the spice of a good vocabulary, I can feel new neural pathways forming already.

Oddly enough, using actual acceptable in mixed company words has turned out to be far more interesting than expected. For example, kindly suggesting that a rude driver in the grocery store parking lot participate in some private asexual reproduction or accurately describing a particular computer program as the ignorant illegitamate son of a hog humper when it froze my computer for the g’zillionth time.

Somehow the results of expressing my frustration tend to be somewhat more lurid when actually not using naughty words. I’m pleased with these results, they are silly and irreverant.