My Final Tirade for 2017


Pick any New Year’s resolutions yet? Oh, you say you’re perfect and don’t need to? Well, bless your little heart. Wish I could feel the same way with my being far from it.

Although, every year it’s the same thing: unrealistic resolutions that I know I’m going to break before January is through.

Earlier today on Twitter, I re-tweeted a Pearls Before Swine cartoon that Stephan Pastis had posted. The strip showed Pig and his writing down goals for the new year: sleep in more, and remain fat. The punchline was, “It’s important to set realistic goals.” How true!

I’ve been reflecting about picking realistic resolutions I can keep. My biggest problems are bellyaching too much, and sticking a size 10½ foot in my mouth while being a smart-ass, even to those about whom I care.

Today, also on Twitter, I announced my number-one resolution: to stop being a wise-ass; and declaring number two here in this essay: to stop complaining all the time. With that in mind, I have until midnight on New Years Eve, Sunday night, to remain a weisenheimer and bitch about my every petty annoyance. So, let’s get started while there’s time left, shall we?

To the cigar-smoking, cop-calling, absolute jerk of a neighbor and his ignorant live-in girlfriend downstairs, I’d love to send the Mr. Clean lookalike an exploding stogie, and tell him to stick it where the sun doesn’t shine. For the dim-witted concubine, may her ugly mug get uglier and enormous butt get bigger.

For whomever is key-scratching the paint job on my Cooper, I’d like to attach a hot, positive electrode to the car, capable of putting out 480 volts of electricity, so that when the marauders touches anywhere on the auto with their metal key, they’ll get zapped on their arses.

Pardon my vulgarity, but that’s another one of my resolutions to keep: watching my profanity; so I’ve got until tomorrow night as well to say what I damn well please, within limits, of course. See the lead-in illustration above.

The aforementioned shocking development also goes for whomever was letting the air out my tires until I got the locking valve-stem caps, which seems to have put a stop to that, thank goodness.

To the supermarket customers who block aisles with their shopping carts, meandering about listlessly at a snail’s pace, stopping unexpectedly everywhere: may the wheels of every cart they grab from this day forward be wobbly and pull to the right or left. I hate when that happens. I get that cart a lot.

To those oncoming drivers who never slow down while in a long line of rush-hour traffic, so that—heavens forbid—I’m able to pull out in front of them from a parking lot: may a flock of seagulls fly above their vehicles and crap all over the windshields! That should slow them down, by golly!

For the motorists who never use their turn signals, may the respective bulbs blow out, causing their vehicles to fail state inspection, because they’ll never know they were faulty anyway. Better yet, may the signaling relay or chip burn up so it will have to be replaced for a costly repair. Maybe that would teach the derelicts to use them.

To smartphone zombies everywhere: may the batteries on their cellular devises contunually go dead and become nonchargeable, or may their phones short out.

OK, I think that takes care of it all for now. The problem with my resolutions is, what will I write about in future tirades? It can’t all be about cats, puppy dogs, love, positive motivation and living in happiness forever after, can it? That’s what Social Media is for.

Perhaps I should revise my goals to being less of a smart-ass, and not complaining as much. How’s that?

Please wish me good luck. Happy New Year and thanks for your continual support. No musical cover this week. Giving your ears a break for New Years.


About Mike Slickster

As an early retiree with an honorary doctorate degree from the proverbial "School of Hard Knocks," this upcoming author with a lot of free time on his hands utilizes his expansive repertoire for humorous yet tragic, wildly creative writing that contains years of imaginative fantasy, pure nonsense, classic slapstick, extreme happiness and searing heartbreak; gathered by a wealth of personal experiences throughout his thrilling—sometimes mundane or unusually horrid—free-spirited, rock-'n'-roller-coaster ride around our beloved Planet Earth. Mike Slickster's illustrious quest continues, living now in Act Three of his present incarnation, quite a bit on the cutting edge of profundity and philosophical merriment as seen through his colorful characters, most notably evident in the amusing Thirty Days Across the Big Pond series, all of which can be found at
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3 Responses to My Final Tirade for 2017

  1. Reading this over today, I realized a change for the better in my bitter attitude should be my main resolution for 2018, for which I’ll work hard to do.

  2. Jack says:

    Mike, Complain all you want. I feel the same about a lot of the same things. Good Luck and Happy New Year.

  3. Thanks, Jack, for your support. Happy New Year and good luck to you as well.

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