I Do Solemnly Swear (or Affirm) . . . .

Seems like the thing to do this week is to take an oath. Everybody (at least on TV) seems to be doing it. O’Baby, Joe Bidy, and the Cabinet Gang of “Changers.” What I could really relate to, however, was the Chief Justice mangling his 35 word bit. If somebody that intelligent and accomplished can flub his line and mislead the most powerful man in the world, I will no longer feel all that bad about the unintended words/syntax/wrong names/etc. that comes out of my mouth when public speaking (or when I proverbially screw up the punch line to a joke).

Watching all the oathing going on reminded me I had yet to formulate a New Year Resolution (I do find some comfort in knowing I still have my finely honed skill of procrastination). A long time ago I vowed to only make New Year Resolutions in the year following presidential elections – unless the incumbent was re-elected. Just my way of trying to align with the nation’s periodic attempts at improvement, plus it provides less opportunities for feeling so badly when I break them.

Of course my and the entire the electorate’s #1 fallback resolution is to LOSE WEIGHT (I contend Jenny Craig, WW, 24-hour Fitness, Gold’s Gym and their ilk would die horrible deaths if a new year didn’t occur every twelve months). My BBL is committed to keeping this fate from happening to two of these organizations which, I must admit, yields tangible results in making our wallets lighter. I’ve accomplishing the same with much less effort just by being unemployed! Unfortunately, these traditional approaches to weight loss are prohibitively expensive; so here goes my approch to this challange:

WHEREAS my weight has multiplied 21 times since birth; and
WHEREAS my body is so incredibly efficient at taking any and all ingested items and transforming them to 1.999% of its original mass and then retaining 0.999% of same; and
WHEREAS two-thirds of my pants’ waistlines have shrunk about two terms; and
WHEREAS I have a dog anyway: I, LoneStarWizzz, with a bag of Twizzlers in my left hand and holding open the refrigerator door with my right, do solemnly swear (make that affirm) to this resolution’s intent to faithfully walk my age in miles every month throughout the term(s) of the 44th President of the United States. So help me God! [literally]

If this doesn’t guarantee him eight years, nothing will.