First Thought of the Year and It’s Sketchy as Heck: Resolutions, all the self-appointed mental health experts seem to agree, are a bad thing. They set you up for failure, we are told. They ultimately do more harm than good, and in fact, can be quite psychologically damaging.
And So: Let’s get right to them, shall we?
The Mail, Just Keeps Coming and Coming … Or Not: Hammer resolves not to ask himself, and the newsroom in general, on a daily basis: How is it that this beclowned Trump appointee Louis DeJoy is still head of the United States Postal Service (motto: Neither Rain, Nor Hail, Nor Dark of Night Will Keep us From Our Litany of Excuses for Failure to Make Our Appointed Rounds).
Speaking of Lather, Rinse, Repeat: B. Hammer resolves to not publish the iconic photo from last summer of Bellingham Mayor Seth Fleetwood in the poop plant because we’ve been told he finds it personally deflating, and … oh, who are we kidding?
On the International Relations/Parking Front: Hammer resolves to just stop wondering what the hell the nation of Canada finds so goddamn irresistible about Trader Joe’s.
Not to Mention: Hammer further resolves to smile and nod, rather than trying to explain, when people around town say they like or don’t like what’s going on with “Cascadia Weekly,” which ceased to exist more than a year ago.
Sooner, Later, Etc.: On the home front, Hammer resolves to take down the holiday lights that have been lurking on the front shrubbery since December … 2021.
Squawk, Squawk, Squawk: Hammer resolves to simply blot out the noise made by Steller’s Jays, God’s cruel revenge on lovers of quiet, and to stop thinking less personally of people who seem to enjoy the screechings of these cacophonous, winged packets of poop and highly objectionable noise.
Reduce, Recycle, Reconsider: Hammer further resolves to stop sorting cardboard from the trash because he has a really, really strong suspicion that all of it winds up buried together in a landfill in Klickitat County.
Meanwhile Over by Fred Meyer: The devil in the Hammer resolves to buy something from Amazon, have it delivered to one of those lockers at Whole Foods, take the package and leave a set of rank, sweaty workout clothes in its place.
Opening Wide: B. Hammer resolves to floss his teeth, religiously, for approximately 10 days before his next fateful encounter with the dental hygienist. Or even more as necessary.
Lies, Lies and More Lies: Hammer resolves to use his newsroom influence to encourage due fact-checking diligence (something not normally associated with the Hammer) should a job candidate named “Jorge Mantos” apply for a CDN internship with a resume listing numerous Pulitzer Prizes.
On the Lighter Side: Hammer resolves to go have some catch-up tea with Satpal Sidhu.
Nodding Northward: Hammer absolutely, positively resolves to not mention the name of the Director of Communications and Broken Promises for the city of Ferndale in this space.
Unless and Only Unless: Said director is announcing the mind-altering news of the opening of a Tim Horton’s franchise.
The Hammer is swung on Wednesdays, and upon the changing of calendar years, and after three consecutive days without Severe Weather warnings.