Welcome back to the first Felix of 2018. For those of you expecting anything radically different from the paper this year, prepare to be disappointed: it will continue to pump out the same trite leftist bullshit as last year as it has nearly every year since the degenerates took over the paper. In their defence however, it does appear that those of a more conservative persuasion struggle to string anything longer than a sentence together and certainly not an eloquent article. I will spell it out for you: if you want your views represented in the paper then you have to write for it. Bitching on Imperial Secrets won’t change that, you fucking lemon.
Moving on to the main topic of this week’s venting of spleen: New Year, and why it can fuck off. New Year, or, as I prefer to know it, ‘the collective hangover from the Christmas, and the last excuse for freedom before the grinding drudgery of everyday life begins’, is widely celebrated all over the world for some reason. Exactly what that reason is, I have yet to establish, but as far as I can tell, it seems to be that people are thrilled that orbital mechanics are staying mostly the same. I just hope people are equally overjoyed when a giant space death ball obeys the very same laws and wipes out civilisation.
“I despise optimism in general, but especially the form that it takes at New Year”
Like a prisoner dragging a ball and chain behind him, the New Year brings with it a flood of retrospective contemplation about your personal achievements and failures of the year behind you as well as a strange sense of optimism about the world being a better place simply because the number at the end of the date has incremented by one. I despise optimism in general, but especially the form that it takes at New Year’s: the resolutions. Resolutions, next to the American way of writing the date, are possibly the stupidest thing that human beings have come up with. On a serious note, what kind of perverse mind decided that the date should be written that way? If any other nation also copies this system, then you too are a bunch of stupid pricks.
I am unsure exactly what it is about resolutions that makes me so angry. It could be the insincerity of it, or the fact that everyone approaches them with the genuine belief that the future will be better than the past, rather than acknowledge that it will be identical except with hangovers as a growing up present. For those of you yet to experience a hangover, it’s like being hit on the head by the Hunchback of Notre Dame, while your body attempts to turn you inside out in the mistaken belief that this will help in any way. Imagine being completely immobilised and also staring at your own vomit on a plug socket for an entire day and throwing up every time you put something in your mouth. That is your future: a sad pile of puke next to your face. Happy New Year.