The new year is only a few days old, and I offer a few thoughts and requests for it.

Dear 2018,I know that in these early days it’s impossible to imagine anything other than shiny optimism, innocence, and clean diapers, but you only have to take a peek at poor old 2017 to see how very badly it all can go.  That pathetic year is a dirty, misshapen failure, half crawling, half dragged off the calendar and into the history books.  It had very few friends, and hardly anyone will miss it.  Even the folks who seemed to be having a good run ended the year in a less than glorious place.

It too was once a shiny, happy baby whom people adored.  Let it be a warning to you.  Every day is a new beginning, but it is a balance, and once the number of bad ones goes over 182, it’s game over, man. So, here are a few recommendations that might help to make you, 2018, less catastrophic than your older sibling.

Just because something is new, and seems exciting, does not mean it’s better.  One of these days, ask me about a little thing called New Coke.  Or movie remakes called Planet of the Apes or Arthur or The Wicker Man.  Or ask the Brady bunches’ cousin Oliver.

And expensive doesn’t mean it’s better either.  The point was brought home the other day in Costco where I low-key stalked a guy walking around in a pair of Gucci, fur-lined, backless leather slippers embroidered with tigers.

Shoes for crazy people.

I followed him around (discretely) because I had seen these “shoes” in the fashion press and couldn’t believe an actual human had purchased them for wearing.  It looked like the guy had either lost a bet or gotten dressed in the dark, during a fire.  When I got home, I was telling Petey about it and googled a picture of these masterpieces for him.

They cost $1100.

Ooh yeah, that’s the stuff…come to mama.

I have no problem with ridiculously expensive shoes.  Balenciaga has a breathtaking, glorious pair of pumps this season that goes for $995.  Chanel has an amazing pair of black-toed glittery boots for $1200, and St. Laurent’s fabulicious slouchy rhinestone boots are $10,000.  Would I happily sell my soul and/or both kidneys for the funds to purchase this walking art?

Of course, but these shoes are beautiful, not a hideous joke.

Sadly, some folks have more dollars than sense.There are many, many people who were completely caught off guard by you, 2018.  That’s because they had their heads buried in their smartphones.  These are the same people who’s lives will be over with nothing to show for it except for bathroom and brunch selfies, with no memory of why they were in that particular bathroom, or who else was at that picturesque meal.

So put down the phone and be present in your own life.

Those smartphones bring me to two more insidious results of these technological marvels; social media, and its flashy offspring, “going viral”.I have many perfectly nice and sane friends who regularly sing the praises of Facespace and Twattle.  They talk about how it keeps them in touch with family and connects them with treasured long-lost school chums.  Here’s my query: if they were so treasured, how’d you lose touch in the first place?Feverish social media use is illustrative of the human need for justice and the desire for complicated matters to have simple, black and white solutions.  That’s why people will learn of something that seems outrageous at breakfast and will have tried, convicted, and publicly pilloried the culprit by lunchtime.  Then three days later when the full story comes out which explains the unexplainable, nobody cares because everybody’s busy watching some Turkish dude salt meat (I swear-google it).

Salt dude.

I have a feeling, 2018, that you may turn out to be one huge, painful hangover.  That’s okay; just buckle in, eat a big greasy breakfast, drink lots of water, and sit quietly until 2019 shows up.Thanks for your time.