Those Crazies Crack Me Up.

With the new year comes new ideas... and new crazies. And, of course, a new calendar. Maybe a new T-shirt with "Surprise, honey - I survived 2011" spread across the front. 

Back to the crazies: what defines a crazy, you ask? Well, a "crazy" is either an outright quack with a billed hat to match, an unfounded claim which questions logic (and the "smarties" who follow it), or a spluttering quack who spouts claims so outrageous as to actually cause the sane world to question whether he was right in the first place. 

"The sky is falling! It's the end of the world!" etc. etc. etc.

Such nonsense is intriguing to the masses of individuals who feel that they have some claim to their own deaths. 

My reasoning is, if the world is going to end, let it, and leave me to my final moments of poignant bitterness and regret that I never reached my life-long goal: to eliminate all socks with holes from my wardrobe. After I brood over those darn socks, I might spare some time for the beautiful moments that I have experienced and the breathtaking views that were lent to me for a short time. 

I wouldn't bother to discount the short amount of time that I have lived; rather, I would revel in what I have had and done and who I have know and loved.