New Year’s Evil

The second night of this horror fest of fake social orgasms kicks off this Saturday.  This time no family are required, merely a group of friends hellbent on celebrating the fact that the Earth has rotated just one more time on its axis.  Oh and that you have to write the date a different way when you wake up.  Despite the apparent lack of value in New Year’s Evil a large number of people believe that there is some mystic specialness relating to it which only people who have visited Goa and have a beard can see.  I have a message for those people.  It’s bollocks.

By adding the words ‘it’s gonna be’  along with ‘wicked/great/awesome/the dog’s bollocks’ you as a reveller have already failed.  Several centuries ago the fore mentioned expressions were identified by social anthropologists as the curse of the idiot.  If you find yourself at a party this Saturday and are unfortunate enough to hear such expressions you must run very quickly and contact a real grown up, as the chance of having anything resembling fun or a good time with such morons is as likely as Fidel Castro revealing himself to be a woman.

Instead contend yourself with an altered reality for a moment.  In days long gone people would sacrifice goats, virgins and encyclopedia salesmen to mark the passing of the days.  Our generation have developed New Year’s Eve as a means to sacrifice our livers.  The only thing more pointless that a New Year’s Eve party is the lives of the people saying it’s wicked whilst they are at a New Year’s Eve party.

Prepare yourself now for midnight by singing the first line of a song and mumbling the rest.  Start thinking of a things you could pretend you want to change or give up  before giving up the giving up a fortnight from now.  Hone your social skills by spending everyday between now and the party drunk, and walking up to strangers and telling them that you fucking love them and that you will definitely call them.  Stock up on fireworks now, because if you don’t try to blow your fingers off when the bell strikes midnight your neighbors are going to be deeply disappointed.  And last but not least, steel your stomach for the quaffing of cheap unpronounceable champagne by drinking a litre of vodka now and drinking your own piss at midnight.

Wherever you happen to be in the world, wherever you go for your New Year’s Evil party, bear this one thought in mind. All over the world there are billions of people having just as shit a time as you, and some of them might be people you hate.  As the wise men say, every cloud has a silver lining.  Until next time, I sincerely hope each and every one of you has a Crappy New Year!

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