Mr. President

I used to know a fellow who wanted to be President of the United States. Everything he did was part of a lifelong campaign. In high school, he took extra American history classes. In college, he declared a dual major in economics and political science. Every year, he ran for (and won) the position of student-body president. He wore only American-sewn coats, and shoes made from American-bred cows. He ate American food, and drank American wine (but not to excess, not even once). He only bought books that, in his estimation, would help him get ready to be President. He went to the right kind of church, and had, with the possible exception of myself, the right kind of friends. He was right Presidential-looking, too. Sharp dresser, sort of thing, and lots of hair. (On his head, that is. Wouldn't know about the rest of him.)

"If I don't get to be President," he said, "this'll all be a waste. I have to be President." He said he was going to run this year, since it'd be the first time he was old enough.

I used to check the papers for him once in a while, to see if he was a governor yet, or maybe a senator, but he never appeared. You can't even dig him up on the Internet. It's probably too late for him, now. I wonder what happened. Maybe a dog ate him. Funny, the way the world can swallow folks up.

MY NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTIONS, CIRCA 2005 (SINCE IT'S NOT TOO LATE FOR ME, AFTER ALL). BY THE WAY, MR. PRESIDENT, IF YOU'RE OUT THERE, MAYBE YOU CAN STILL BE V.P, OR SOMETHING.

1) Make lots and lots of money, and lord it over all the poor folks (just kidding about that last bit).

I make this one every year, don't I? Ordinarily, I have some silly new business plan to go along with it, but this year, I can't think of a thing. My fingers are going, but my mind's a complete blank. Maybe I'll run for President. Well, Prime Minister--we've not got presidents here. Prime Minister Myles. How does that sound? My platform would involve...oh, I don't know. Voting rights for seagulls, maybe, and massive tax breaks for artists. (I'll be representing the Raving Loony party, then.)

2) Learn to cook.

By January 1, 2006, I must be able to prepare the following dishes without looking them up on the Internet:

Spaghetti carbonara
Greek stew
Spanish omelettes
Apple turnovers
Roast duck
Potato curry
Poached eggs
At least three kinds of soup, one of which must not be borscht.

3) Curb Stella's enthusiasm.

Her enthusiasm for biting, that is. This year, I will take decisive anti-rat action, including, but not limited to, the construction of special tooth-resistant gauntlets, and the application of new forms of non-violent rodent discipline. (That is, I'm going to shout more, and pour the odd glass of water over her head.) By the end of the year, I should be able to pick her up without worrying about her taking my face off. No more being pushed around by some great ugly baldynose rat.

4) Spend more time with friends.

What's the harm? Working sixteen-hour days hasn't made me rich yet. Is it worth throwing away the last of my youth for a few extra pennies? I might even get more work done if I had something other than videogames to look forward to at the end of the day.

5) Find lost friends, wherever they might be.

I must've lost a thousand e-mail addresses and telephone numbers over the years. Nine hundred and ninety of them can stay lost, but the other ten were worth having. Where are you, Ponytail? And you, Mr. President? After all these years, would you remember me? (And, more importantly, would I still like you? If I wouldn't, stay hidden. I hate disappointment even more than I hate a mystery.)

6) No more silly resolutions!

I never keep these damn things. I'm only making them because I promised to write every day for a month (see? See? Another silly resolution!), and am therefore stuck scribbling when I ought to be sleeping. In my dozy state, nothing else sprang to mind.

Oh, wait--there was one other thing I've been meaning to mention. By some strange twist of fate, Scent of a Woman was on the telly the other night. We watched that last year around this time, my sister and I. We were yelling "Hooah!" at one another for days. This year, it was an edited-for-TV version, so there weren't as many hooahs as last time. Also, the ending was sappier than I'd remembered.

7) Next year, watch something else...

...but not necessarily someone else. Al Pacino is still easy on the eyes.