It’s that time of year again when we wish each other a happy year ahead. Father time, with his shroud and scythe, takes away the old year and delivers the new year, looking much like a happy, fat, naked baby.

I can’t say that I am sorry to see 2020 go, but I have some reservations about how we will raise the baby and work around whatever bit of nastiness the new year inherits from its close ancestor. Continue reading Resolved?