What Would You Do in the 2025 of Your Dreams? (Alternative to New Year's Resolutions)

Recreation Fun & Games
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‘Yule boasting is an old Norse tradition of getting shitfaced at the winter solstice feast and standing up to proclaim all the great, infamous, and wildly improbable deeds you will perform in the coming year. can range from an unlikely but technically possible claim, like “I’m going to rob 300 banks”, to something you’d have to bend the laws of the universe to actually accomplish, like “I’m going to punch a god in the dick and steal his horse”. these are not plans. they’re not even goals. they’re the things you’d do in a self-insert superhero fanfic.’

Saw this today and thought it sounded like a welcome antidote to all the doomscrolling, polarisation, class warfare, 6th great extinction, and just so many arguments.
Not that I’m against resolutions, people bettering themselves and the world, far from it! I think the urgency to unfuck the world is growing ever greater. I just think we could do with a few more things that help break the 4th wall and remind us all that in the words of Bill Hicks, “It’s just a ride.”
I’m sure with the diversity of great minds on here, we should be able to think up some boasts worthy of some good old fashioned smiting from the gods of any pantheon you wish to offend.

Note: In order to not be in conflict with resolutions to stop drinking, being ‘out of one’s skull’ need not be a prerequisite for participation.

I’ll be back in a few hours with a simple first bid of my own if this falls as flat as unleavened bread like some of my previous post ideas :tumble:

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II OP Digs His Hole Deeper

“Must the crickets chirp so loudly?”
Mustering his strength the lapsed impersonator of Discobot dragged his stiff body off the grey gravelly desert of last night’s “good idea” and flung open the window into reality. Invigorated by the bracing winter wind, he noticed nonetheless that the sky had reneged on its earlier promising appearance and had resumed the colour of the hair of a man out on $30M bail. The member of the Illnamed impulsively decided that the greyness would be cheered by more of his poorly conceived and (what should have been decidedly) indifferently received idea. Oh dear.

“All right, you unimaginative fools of the unworthy god emperor, here’s what I shall do in 2025: I swear by the truckload of mangosteens of our beloved Pope that I shall invade that mass of land to the north across the sea and give our dear compatriots therein the unification they have lately taken to so frequently crowing about.”

The plucky ignoramous of a by-now-clearly-in-need-of-an-intervention Boddhisattva barking up the wrong tree in the wrong forest in the the wrong jurisdiction of the noosphere wondered about his boast. How could he improve and embellish it further? How would he achieve this quest in the most enjoyable way? How would he avoid the likely called for dickery of imposing Carriage 2419D ignominy on the soon to be former victors? And perhaps most importantly, what fate would he assign this Middle Kingdom after he had liberated it from the Liberation Army? He would also have to avoid the temptation to simply become emperor like all those before him.

As he sensed the light fading from the heavens and the number of achievable items faded from his list of “Things I Really Must Do Today”, he further pondered, lying to himself,

“I wonder if anyone else will improve on my boast by detailing how they would retake it, or what they would do after? Or maybe they will trash my first attempt as playing too small and think of a boast more worthy? And what might my counter-boast be to that?”

Yet the reality was this: A mind, seemingly infinite yet mostly devoid of anything not common to the common man, had once more muttered empty words that although seeming to carry a key to carrying on in this winter world by joyfully yet momentarily shaking off the hold of seriousness it appeared to have on everybody, were either glittering like fool’s gold or were lacking the means to be expressed in a way that would convey that key.

And here is where they had been sprach forth into: An equally boundless space in which, quite reasonably, no one was listening. For in replying to himself, he had perhaps revealed the only member who did not politely have him on ignore.

Quoth Arabel’s Raven, “Nevermore!”

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I’m looking forward to getting my dream job and building my dream home with the woman of my dreams

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Everly Brothers.

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At the risk of being a bit of a wet rag on the smouldering fire of the Yule boast I would like to sit down, in a meditative buddha pose: I don’t have a chair handy, and would feel silly standing. Installed thus - oblivious to the near future where pins and needles feature heavily - and tapping on my keys as a stick-insect does upon a leaf, I would like to reflect in a sombre and calculated way on moderate acts that I very much am likely to do in the new year:

I would like to wander on a sunny day on a somewhat empty road hugging a mountain and perhaps a shoreline to boot. I would like to happen upon an old semi abandoned shack, perhaps with some worse for wear fishing gear draped upon it. Perhaps with a scooter parked nearby, uncertain as to whether it is there rusting to the end, or just taking a break. I would like to wander through this little semi-abandoned settlement for hours, occasionally almost happening upon a person as they disappear into a doorway. I would like for it to be unclear as to whether they actually are there, or whether I am imagining their presence. I would like for a sea mist to sweep over this scene and then to lift beautifully almost as if it was a scripted symphony of visual experience, revealing and then obscuring and then revealing again the colours of the earth reemerging from flaking paint, and written by Mozart, probably. I would like for the air to be alive. I would like for god - or Aslan, whoever is available on the day - to blow through the air. I would like for the light to play in little sparkles on passing insects and all of the busy natural microscopic bric a brac that traffics through the God/Aslan blown air. I would like to wander thus, soaking up the serenity of being ‘a figure in the distance even to my own eye’. And I would like for the feeling of calm indifference to continually deepen and expand into a moment of perfect emptiness. I would like for this nirvana to be suddenly shattered by a bird. Not an albatross, not a swan, not a goose, a crow, a jackdaw magpie or raven. Not dragging unwieldy wings in the poudre, not indicating joy, sorrow, love or death. Just sitting there, moving with unimaginable natural precision on a wooden post, piercing the emptiness with its bright presence. And then I would like for it to become aware of my presence and to share that moment with it. Then I would like for the wren - the king of all birds - to fly and disappear as suddenly and unexpectedly as it had appeared to me. And at the moment I would like to search for my birdwatching cap and glasses scanning the scene and then to find them and to declare: “They are literally right in front of me Bro, I am so skibiddy”

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In the spirit of solstice bragging, I’m considering two big moves.

First porcelain veneers. The bright white kind. A white not found in nature. Maybe get them cheap so they don’t quite occlude and I can add a little unavoidable whistling to my conversations.

Second a big pair of eyeglasses with frames like struts on a plane. Not shiny black, matte. I think Alec Baldwin whiffed on that the last time he was in the news; he got the big thick struts right but the shiny is all wrong. Matte black, Alec, like your grandkid’s Raptor.

Pretty sure it will add up to me passing for 27 again.

:thinking:

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