Don’t worry about the fact that you’ve already ditched your resolutions, and focus on helping New York City’s neighborhoods keep theirs.
Look at you, New York! I hardly recognize this group of non-smoking, exercising, healthy-eating and organized individuals. What happened? You used to be fun. Interesting, at least.
The truth is, if everyone in New York sticks to their resolutions, it could throw off the balance of this entire city, country and world at large. Grocery stores will sell out of fresh produce, and SeamlessWeb will go under faster than it can send a confirmation email. Gyms will become so overcrowded that citywide riots will break out in a moment of elliptical desperation. Cigarette companies will—er, bad example.
Countless livelihoods depend on your laziness, unhealthy habits and destructive behaviors. Think of the artisan baker who relies on your sweet tooth to pay the bills. Don’t you believe in supporting small businesses? Don’t you want to stimulate the economy? Or how about the bartender who depends on your liquored-up generosity to support his true passion? Thanks to your selfish resolution to drink less, you may be robbing the world of his future Oscar-winning documentary exposing the slaughter of bonobos in the Congo. Maybe that film would have started a worldwide movement to save the bonobos from extinction. Perhaps even inspired an end to the Congo’s years of devastating warfare in the process. Don’t you want to end violence in the Congo? Don’t you think bonobos are cute?
So go ahead and smoke your first cigarette of 2013. Bite that hangnail. Fall so hard off the donut wagon that you might have broken something if not for their—and your—pillowy softness to cushion the landing. It’s the least you can do.
Our neighborhoods, however, are another story. They could use a few resolutions, and from the look of things, they have their work cut out for them in 2013:
Meatpacking: Drink lesssss [hiccup]. And learn Italian.
Chelsea: Stop making fun of MiMa. He didn’t make it up.
West Village: Start growing vegetables on the roofs of my restaurants. Oh wait, that was last year’s.
Midtown: Separate my work from my social life. Leave my Blackberry at—sorry, gotta take this … What? Now? I’m just finishing a scorpion bowl with my boys at BroJim’s. I’ll be at the office in 10.
East Village: Keep my beard clean.
Tribeca: Stop letting myself be defined by my friends. Tell De Niro I need some space. Again.
Nolita: Stop giving all the other neighborhoods adorably personalized gifts from my shops. When did anyone ever give me a necklace made of gilded flower petals in the shape of my name?
Little Italy: Go gluten-free.
Murray Hill (hers): Stop wearing my Kappa Delta Phi butt pants to unlimited champagne brunch.
Murray Hill (his): Stop hitting on girls wearing Kappa Delta Phi butt pants at unlimited champagne brunch.
Times Square: Meditate more. Like, all the time.
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