With the excesses of the winter holidays — the gluttony, the wanton consumerism and the forced good will — thankfully behind us, humans tend to greet the coming year with the hopes of becoming “better.” Bright eyed optimists, it seems everyone wants to eat more healthfully, lose weight, stop smoking or cut back on the heroin. Completely misguided or course. No one changes.

I shouldn’t be so dismissive, but how would you feel if a flock of sheep wanted to become “better” lambs by eating fewer thistles. Or a herd of cattle wanted to improve their lot by exercising. Charming perhaps, but utterly ludicrous.

When you’ve seen as many new years as I have — with the same miserable, sweaty imbeciles making the same mistakes over and over again — they tend to lose their romance. Although, as in years past, I will undoubtedly find my way to Times Square to mingle with the drunken revelers gathered to watch the ball drop.

Contrary to popular belief, Dick Clark is not a vampire. He’s a human — a long-lived, powerful and resilient human, but decidedly mortal. Now Ryan Seacrest, on the other hand … I’m quite certain I’ve bumped into him several times during the last few centuries. I seem to recall a particularly debauched little soiree at the Marquis de Sade’s where Seacrest came up with his whole catch phrase. Of course, he was talking about taking a “piece” out.

I hope I bump into him on New Year’s Eve. I do so enjoy the crush of warm bodies, all with their lowered inhibitions and desperate desire to connect with someone romantically. So many ways to take advantage of so many people. I wonder how well you know the person who’ll be bending in close for a kiss at midnight.

Time to chill some champagne. It’s delightful year round, but there’s something so pleasing about opening some bubbly at midnight. And by bubbly, I mean blood and by opening, I mean inflicting a large wound in someone’s neck.google поисковая оптимизация