Folks, this is Ed Anger here, pig-biting mad as a New Year’s Eve hangover in a dry county!
Every January 1st, like clockwork, these whiny, yoga-pants-wearing, kale-munching wimps crawl out of their overpriced apartments and start blabbering about “New Year Resolutions.” Lose weight! Exercise more! Read books! Quit smoking! Save money! Be kinder to Mother Earth! Give me a break – I’m so steamed I could roast a whole hog over the flames of my fury!
Back in my day – and I mean the real America, when men were men, beer was cheap, and nobody cried about “trigger warnings” – we didn’t need no stinkin’ resolutions! You wanted to lose weight? So you stopped stuffing your face with that fancy foreign crap like sushi and went back to good old American cheeseburgers – in moderation, because you had a backbone! You wanted to exercise? You got off your duff and mowed the lawn or shoveled snow without whining to some app on your phone!
I AIN’T RESOLUTIN’ ANYTHING!
These modern resolutions are nothing but a bunch of liberal hogwash designed to make real Americans feel guilty! “I’m gonna go vegan this year!” Yeah, right – until you smell a real steak grilling on the Fourth of July, you tofu-sucking traitor! “I’m gonna meditate and find inner peace!” Inner peace? The only inner peace I need comes from a cold brewski and watching football without some pink-haired commie interrupting for a “moment of silence” about global warming!
And don’t get me started on the gym rats! January hits, and suddenly every treadmill is occupied by these puffing puffballs who last three weeks before quitting and blaming “toxic masculinity” or whatever nonsense they’re peddling these days. Back in my day, if you wanted to get fit, you joined the Army or worked a real job – not prancing around in spandex listening to that rap garbage!
The worst part? These resolution-making pansies drag the rest of us down with ’em! “Dry January”? Are you kidding me? The only dry thing around here should be the martinis for those Hollywood elites crying about their Oscars! No booze for a month? That’s commie talk! Real Americans resolve to drink more – responsibly, of course – and tell the nanny state to shove it!
LOAD UP!
And saving money? Ha! These idiots resolve to cut back on lattes while the government wastes trillions on electric cars for tree-huggers and handouts for illegal aliens speaking that chili-pepperese! My resolution? Buy more ammo and stock up on canned goods before the next zombie apocalypse – or worse, another election!
Folks, New Year’s Resolutions are for weak-kneed, therapy-needing snowflakes who can’t handle real life! Me? I’m resolving to stay exactly the same: mad as hell at liberals, foreigners ruining my country, and anyone who thinks pineapple belongs on pizza!
So here’s to 2026 – may it be filled with more pork rinds, less political correctness, and zero resolutions from real patriots like you and me!
Pig-biting mad and proud of it,
Ed Anger
