
                         Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: WEDNESDAY, January 5, 1994                   TAG: 9401080006
SECTION: EXTRA                    PAGE: 1   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: Ben Beagle
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium

A PERFECT SOLUTION TO RESOLUTIONS

Those of you to whom this column is the bread of life will notice that I didn't get into any New Year's resolutions, predictions or recaps of the year 1993.

Let's examine the reasons for this departure from normal behavior for columnists.

I don't like to boast, but the truth is that my character and self-control are such that I don't have to make New Year's resolutions.

Stated simply, I don't smoke and I don't chew, and I don't like commerce with others who have these disgusting habits.

Curse words never pass my lips.

I never get mad or greedy or envious.

I'm self-denying. All I drank New Year's Eve was iced tea made in this brewer I got for Christmas.

You won't find me asking for frivolous things for Christmas. No, sir. Besides the iced-tea maker, a practical gift if there ever was one, I got a new terry-cloth robe and a new pair of boat shoes to replace the ones I got in 1980.

I make a striking figure in the new robe, if I do say so myself.

The only resolution I could make would be to vow to be less perfect. It's not easy being perfect, you know.

As for predictions, I don't do them because nothing I ever predict happens.

For example, I predicted privately last year that Madonna would enter a real nice nunnery somewhere and leave the rest of us alone.

The Washington Redskins' win over Dallas in September won me a fried baloney sandwich from this Dallas fan I know and made me reckless. I predicted the Redskins would beat the Cowboys the day after Christmas.

I now owe this Dallas person a fried baloney sandwich. And he takes fries and carrot cake with his.

And then we have the lack of a review of 1993.

This year was too painful financially for me, and I couldn't bear to look back.

In addition, my allergies were so bad I didn't pay any attention to anything that went on - except for the two Washington/Dallas games.

No kidding. You say Michael Jackson to me, and I don't know what you're talking about. For all I know, Hillary Clinton has her M.D. by now.

It's kind of hard to take an active interest in current events when you sneeze a lot and have to squirt this stuff up your nose all the time.

Being perfect doesn't impress allergies a whole lot.

by CNB