A phrase I often say after a string of non-successes, and pretty much how I’m feeling heading into 2021. It has certainly not been the best of years. Global pandemic health crisis, personal stomach health crisis, national political crisis… at least I’ve already taken care of my existential crisis long ago, and I won*.

I haven’t even been playing any boardgames of late to share here. I can share a couple recent columns about trying to find a job during the apocalypse, or how I spent 2020 Being a Homebody, but most of my writing these days is ghostwriting.

But in the spirit of the new year, I once again want to share my favorite New Year’s song from 11 years ago**, on which I have the final verse: Keep All Your Promises.

Bidding us all a better 2021 – stay healthy and try not to be a virus vector!

* Turns out the secret was just accepting existentialism as a positive instead of a negative, that if there’s no purpose to life I don’t owe the world achievement, only kindness. So, enjoy yourself, be kind. A reasonable bar for life, and not a bad resolution for 2021.

**By which I mean, my favorite new years song bar none, which also happens to be from 11 years ago. Although it is a fortiori*** my favorite song from 11 years ago that is a new years song.

***Definitely my favorite. Maybe even a fiftiori****

****I’m pretty sure that joke doesn’t work and is disappointing, but as my last joke of 2020, it seems appropriate. Maybe it’ll be funnier in hindsight. (insert your own last 2020 joke here.)

I just woke up from a nap. I do not normally take naps, but this morning we had people doing work on my roof at arse o’clock, and consequently I could count the hours of sleep I got on one hand without using all my fingers. Waking up from the nap did not change the world, but it did slightly renew me with energy to do the things I have to do today.

Today is also Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, making it a fine time for renewal. And also a fine time to buy my line-by-line rhyming version of the Torah, which makes a lovely gift or coffee table piece*. Like my nap, I don’t expect the new year to suddenly change the onslaught that has been 2020. But perhaps it can give people a little renewal to face the challenges ahead.

And the challenges of 2020 are many, even if I have tried to write about them in a funny way. Those with children rightfully wary of in-person classes may need to come up with their own homeschooling quizzes. All of us probably need help on how to talk to friends in 2020, because starting conversations the normal way is now terrible. And speaking of terrible, those minor issues pale in comparison to the steadily-creeping fascism of the current administration.

So please vote. Early in person or by mail. And I encourage and entreat you to ask yourself down the entire ballot, not just the presidential race, “Which of these candidates do I think will care about helping all of the people?”, and then vote for candidates who you personally deem more likely to do so. A simple rubric, but I figure if you read my blog, I trust your judgement.

*or small monitor stand, or you can kill a reasonably sized bug with it, or you can make a hat or a pterodactyl…

As mentioned last month, in spite of my many entertainment options, over the past few months I’ve been playing a lot of sudoku.* How addicted am I? I may have written a song about it. It’s a way to distract myself. I am pretty sure I’m not alone in alternating between trying to seek some escapism from our terrible world, and feeling like I need to say something or do something about our terrible world.

I realize that “Think globally, act locally” is more difficult when thinking even nationally is enough to send one into a depression spiral, but I don’t know, I didn’t expect** a deadly pandemic that America refused to fight, or proto-fascist paramilitary squads being sent to attack our own citizens. Yet here we are in 2020.

So take care of yourself. And take care of others, if you can.

*Also over the past few decades, I’ve been playing a lot of tsundoku.

**The fact that I can’t even find the joy to craft a Spanish Inquisition reference is probably a sign that 2020 is too depressing.

I have always had a love of portmeanteaux. Some might even call it an addiction.* I create new portmanteaux frequently, often to the chagrin of those around me. For nearly two decades now, I have been using “Probportunity”, which I would love to catch on in the common parlance. It has what are, to me, the two essential traits of a good portmanteau:

1) You know immediately upon reading or hearing it what two words it is combining, and why

2) The resultant portmanteau is useful in a situation which many people frequently encounter

Today I ended an email with the valediction “Thankspologies”, which I think is even more useful, because often I find myself in the situation of needing to express my appreciation for someone taking action that is only required due to an oversight I may have made. So feel free to start using that; I’d love for that one to catch on too.

Also, I should mention that last weekend I was awarded 2nd place Best Humor Columnist 2019 by the New England Newspaper and Press Association. A little over a decade ago, writing this same “The Pun Also Rises” column for a different newspaper, I also won 2nd place Best Humor Columnist from NENPA. So it’s possible I’ll have to accept that I’m just second-best.**

But that was last year. Maybe my latest column about romantic failure will be the best thing you read all day.

*I know, I should join a supportmanteau group.

**This may undercut my description of my writing as “second-to-none”. I wonder if potential freelance clients will be impressed if I say my writing is “third-to-none”?

…I should probably have updated sooner. I guess if there’s a year for hindsight, it’s 2020.

This has, obviously, been an exhausting year already. As others have pointed out, we’re now six months into January, between environmental disasters and political disasters and so forth. It’s a lot, and I encourage everyone to take care of themselves, because as we learn from the airlines, in case of low pressure, put your own mask on first*.

For me, that’s now being in two boardgaming groups, tonight just back from playing Concordia, which is still one of my favorite games I don’t own for the way it all meshes together. Reminds me a bit of Endeavor or AoE III in that regard, which are two games I quite like and do own. On the videogame front I’m still quite enjoying Slay the Spire, which recently added a new class.

For you, I recommend comedy. Naturally, I am biased towards my own stuff, so whether you want to keep hope alive in the new year, or just appreciate some terrible puns, I’ve got you covered. Also as mentioned in the latter column, I got to see the hilarious Maria Bamford perform the other week, and she was absolutely phenomenal. I believe the vast majority of her set is in her newest special “Weakness is the Brand“, so if she’s not touring near you, consider viewing that on the Internets at your earliest convenience for high-quality comedy.

* “You should probably put your mask on, but, y’know, no pressure…”

I am not generally known for either being particularly spiritual nor excessive displays of sentimentality. But this week I found myself thinking about the holiday*, and how some people take holidays very seriously and the word itself is derived from “holy day”, but I’m not big on holidays and don’t think they’re more important than any other day. But that’s because when I stop to think about it, I believe every day is important.**

Perhaps that’s hitting me harder than usual this week because I lost a friend and artist who I had plans to make a book with. But even without the worst of mementos mori***, I try to tell those I love that I appreciate them on a regular basis, to enjoy every day and appreciate the joys of gaming, eating tasty food, performing, or just spending time in good company. I’d say today is an appropriate day to appreciate what you have, but my whole point is that *every* day is an appropriate day to appreciate what you have.

In lighter news****, if you’ve been on the Internet in the past few months, you might appreciate my poetic take on OK, Boomer.

*Thanksgiving, the one on which Christmas declared war.

****Apparently Zippo also makes flasks.

A year or two ago I wrote a poem about the ubiquity of politics and how it’s impossible to go through your day without having it cast a shadow over everything. Part of me very much wants to get away from that, and I’m sure you want to get away from that too, which is why I write columns about fun topics* like why I’m not married and how I lost hot water and injuring my shoulder.

But also sometimes I write political columns like this song parody The Governor Down In Georgia, because I feel like lately things are getting a lot worse in this country for people who aren’t straight white christian men. And I feel like it’s incumbent upon me to use whatever tiny megaphone** I have to advocate for those whose freedoms are being taken away. Here in the “Land of the Free”, we have more people behind bars than any other country on earth — both in terms of raw numbers, and per capita. Private prisons exacerbate this problem, because private companies exist to profit, and so when locking up more people leads to profit, more people will be locked up.

Maybe this should be a poem instead of a blogpost. I guess WordXWord is in a few weeks, but I get exhausted from doing political poems. I’ve done so many. And this blogpost is not funny, but at least it has links to funny, because it’s important to take a break from the politics and breathe***, right? So, maybe just click through and enjoy some columns for now. But at some future point, speak up for people who just want to live their lives and are being deprived of life or liberty because of who they are rather than what they do.

* I should mention that I have no idea what fun is, as anyone who has ever invited me to a concert or party will confirm.

*** It was only after I typed this that I realized “I can’t breathe” springs to mind, reminding us that for some people it is literally impossible to not be dealing with politics at all times, because politics means fighting for their right to live without being caged or killed.

So, April was National Poetry Month, and I was so busy writing a poem per day that I forgot to make a post here. Oops. Anyway, here’s a poem I wrote last month:
*************

Everyone knows
A funeral is no place to make jokes
I’ve never liked funerals
I guess I’m just not a mourning person
But everyone also knows
A funeral is no place for violence
So after I make my joke
You settle for murdering me with your eyes
Instead of your hands
Don’t worry, I’ll die eventually
We all do
And I hope at my funeral
There will be laughter

******************************

My latest column is about how you can’t believe every T-shirt you read.

I know, I’m slightly behind on my blogging and am very late wishing you a Happy New Year. By now your resolutions may have already failed, but don’t have FOMO, let me tell you about JOMO. Besides, while I’m very late for January, I’m only slightly late in wishing you a Happy Year of the Pig! It’s never too late for new beginnings.

Was just reading something online by a woman who sold her first book at age 59. So if you’re not yet 60, there’s every reason to believe that you have a wonderful exciting life ahead of you. And if you’re over 60, then it’s too late and you are doomed.

Kidding! In addition to the local poetry mics I attend, I occasionally still perform at events hosted by WordXWord, a wonderful organization. And one of my favorite poets who performs at those events is an octogenarian*, whose poetry I have enjoyed since he was a young septuagenarian. So what if it’s already February, or if you’re already old. It’s never too late to do something you find meaningful.**

*I think if you’re an octogenarian, you should always be able to show up and be considered in theme for 80’s parties.

**I mean, until you’re dead, at which point it definitely is too late. So I recommend trying to avoid death, and that way your options will remain open.

Hey, if you’re not a terrible person, you deserve a Bare Minimum Human Decency Award! And if you are a terrible person, my other recent column has terrible puns.

Had another local comedy show where I performed last week, but more exciting was traveling to see the hilarious Emo Philips live for the first time*. And he was ostensibly going to greet fans after the show, but there was a wait before he emerged from backstage, and the venue was full, and my partner wanted to go home, so we left. And it also left me thinking: Why do I care if I meet a celebrity who will never remember me? And why was I so excited months ago when Emo liked a joke I made in a comment?

And I think the answer is love. For the first two decades** of my life, I viewed love largely as a spiderweb of one-way arrows, because I had a crush on a girl at my highschool who had no interest in me, but was very interested in my friend, who in turn had no interest in her but wanted some other guy, etc. Mutual affection was the elusive grand and glorious prize.

Years later, a number of us are fortunate enough to have mutual affection. But less common is a mutual admiration of craft. If you ask people who they love the most, you’ll likely find a lot of reciprocal listings. But ask people who they think is the most brilliant comedian or the best writer, and if you’re not asking celebrities or a professional cabal, you’re likely to find mostly one-way arrows. People scoff and pooh-pooh mutual admiration societies****, but to me, this has always been the great allure of celebrity: The idea that the people you think are great might think you are great also.

* I mean, he was living before, but previously I only got to enjoy his work via a screen.

** aka the worst two decades***

*** aka the thirst two decades, aka the cursed two decades, aka rhymes burst through decades help i like rhyming too much

**** “You are a handsome bear, would you like some hunny?” “Why yes thank you, and your crop-top red shirt is lovely.”