Every year it’s the same old thing. My friends and family know that I am a big loser and, bless their hearts, they try to help me with shitty advice. Same old thing every time. Get a job, quit doing smack, blah, blah blah. I never do anything they suggest because that would be like admitting that I have a problem. Admitting it is the first step to ending fun forever. Not for me thanks. I will do one thing this year that I’ve never tried before, and that is to write out a list of goals. It seems stupid, time consuming and pointless but you never know.
My Goal List
“Back to Horton at the point. He twists,turns and feeds it up the left side to Keon. Keon to Ellis. He scores. What a goal! The Leafs lead the Red Wings 3 goals to one.”
“Orr winds up behind his own net and starts to rush up to his own blueline untouched, he fakes to Esposito and carries on swiftly past the red line. He splits the defense, goes to his backhand and puts it up and over a sprawling Ed Giacomin. The Bruins are keeping this crowd at Madison Square Gardens awfully quiet tonight. Three goals in two minutes and Orr’s got two of them.”
“Sittler to Macdonald on the right side. He dishes a softy over the stick of Dornhoffer and right on Henderson’s stick. Henderson winds up, he shoots, he scores. What a goal! Dougie Favell didn’t even see that bullet coming and the leafs cut the Flyers lead to a three goal margin. You just never know what’s going to happen hockey fans. Lots of time remaining on the clock and the Leafs look hungry.”
Damn, this is stupid. How many goals are you supposed to list? I could go all night. This shit’s from the Seventies. I’ve got decades of goals to go. This is going to take forever. And then there’s Soccer. I don’t know about this. It doesn’t seem to be helping at all. Maybe I’m not doing it right. I never did understand this self-help bullshit. Oh well, maybe next year.
I think I’m going to crack a beer and turn on the game. You’ve gotta figure that watching goals is just as beneficial as writing them out. And it’s way easier. Self-help is for losers. I already know what’s going to happen if I try to improve myself. With my luck I’ll work hard, eat right, exercise, help others and then get hit by a bus.
No thanks. I’m happy just the way I am.
*Editor’s Note* Since the time of this writing, Don Rogers did get hit by a bus. He was very high on the smack and delusional. According to the hospital report, Don mistook the approaching bus for a large friend of his. The bus hit him just as he extended his hand to shake and embrace the friend (bus). If only he had taken goal setting seriously. Oh well, maybe next time.
Don’t worry about Don. He will be okay. His fall was broken by a soft cuddly baby that was crawling around in the neighbor’s yard. The baby is dead, but the parents are taking it rather well. The baby’s mother, Emma Cruikshank says that they harbor no anger or resentment towards Don for killing their soft and cuddly newborn.
“ We weren’t ready for children anyway,” she said, as she smiled and took a long sip of her tall frosty lemonade. Her downward gaze seemed playful as her soft blue eyes danced with the flow of the yellow nectar. It seemed like an eternity for the juice to make its way up the long hard straw and penetrate her parched and pouting lips.
“ We are just pretending that we had a very, very late term abortion,” she added.
Well, good for you, Emma. That’s what you call looking on the bright side.