Barry Smith: 2004 columns
Damnit, here it is mid-January already and I totally forgot to write the wacky “New Year’s resolution” column.
I hate missing a seasonal opportunity like that, ’cause the wacky resolution column is one of those that practically writes itself. For instance:
“Well, this year things are gonna be different. This is the year that I’m resolving to quit openly worshiping Satan.”
See? I didn’t write that. It wrote itself. Practically.
The reason I missed this chance is that I have only now gotten around to mapping out my column year. Yes, as each new year begins I like to plan out my column topics, ideas and concepts for the coming year. Then I like to print that outline as an actual column, just like I’m doing today.
And yes, this is one of those columns that practically wrote itself. But I had to type it.
JANUARY: Write that “I plan my columns out well in advance” column. Again. Hope that no ever discovers that I actually start writing about 20 minutes before my deadline.
FEBRUARY: Do a clever series of columns written from the standpoint of my “pets,” only since I don’t have any pets, use various intestinal parasites instead. Hilarious! I can just see the little tapeworm mug shot now.
MARCH: Spring. A VERY funny time of year. Springy things to be written about everywhere I look. No point in thinking about it too much just yet ” I’ll just know those funny, spring-related ideas when the time comes, and those spring columns will practically write themselves.
APRIL: It’s muddy in the mountains, so I am likely to read ” and finish ” a book. Write about this exciting and unique experience.
MAY: With any luck we’ll have invaded some new country by now, and I REALLY hope it works out so that I get to use my “NO BLOOD FOR OIL OF OLAY!” joke.
JUNE: Summer. Yep. Plenty of funny things about summer. Maybe a solstice joke. Or two. Or maybe something that’s actually funny. About summer.
JULY: OK, a whole series of columns where I make up meanings for words that I invent by adding prefixes to the word “pornography.” Like “postnography,” “prenography,” “perinography,” “protonography” and so on. The actual meanings should write themselves.
AUGUST: Take a road trip, then write about it. Or, as a fallback plan ” don’t take road trip, then write about NOT taking one. OR ” don’t take a road trip, but write about having taken one. So many possible combinations, but keep in mind that the “take a road trip but DON’T write about it” combo doesn’t really do me much good.
SEPTEMBER: Hmmmm … nope. I got nothing. Something had seriously better write itself, or I’m screwed.
OCTOBER: Autumn. Now we’re talkin’! Write about autumn. Write something really funny about autumn. Like, is it “autumn” or “fall?” What the … ? Seriously, why can’t it make up its mind? OK … don’t force it … just think autumn. Funny, funny autumn.
NOVEMBER: Election time drawing near. Thank God! Take candidates’ names and rearrange the letters to form funny and “revealing” new words. A promising idea, as the letters in “George W. Bush” also spell “He grew bogus” and “Ow, he buggers!” Man, I should really do more hard-hitting political commentary.
DECEMBER: Time to poke some light-hearted, good-natured, not-at-all-sacrilegious fun at the deep and meaningful beliefs held by others. Write a wacky “Last Minute Gift Guide.” Also, do an updated version of that “‘Twas the night before Christmas” poem like everyone else does. Those things practically write themselves.
Support Local Journalism
Support Local Journalism
Readers around Aspen and Snowmass Village make the Aspen Times’ work possible. Your financial contribution supports our efforts to deliver quality, locally relevant journalism.
Now more than ever, your support is critical to help us keep our community informed about the evolving coronavirus pandemic and the impact it is having locally. Every contribution, however large or small, will make a difference.
Each donation will be used exclusively for the development and creation of increased news coverage.
Start a dialogue, stay on topic and be civil.
If you don't follow the rules, your comment may be deleted.
User Legend: Moderator Trusted User
My first step onto the natural lake ice is tentative as I launch off on a thin, stainless-steel blade. Will the ice support me? Will I go plummeting through into a hypothermic bath?