Our New Year's Resolutions

The next time a major publication does a story about The Weinstein Company's financial woes, we resolve to immediately organize a telethon on behalf of Harvey Weinstein. Someone's got to keep bankrolling Quentin Tarantino.

We resolve to produce a movie that's nothing but 105 minutes of people smoking, talking about how sexy smoking makes them seem, and quote "facts" about the health benefits of smoking as composed by doctors under the employ of Big Tobacco in the 1950s. This movie will be called F*ck You, People Smoke in the Movies.

When our invitation to the Governor's Ball is "lost" for a sixth consecutive year, we will not park outside Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences President Tom Sherak's house, hurl flaming bags of cat excrement over his wall, and shout obscenities that poorly communicate the profound hurt of exclusion. Nor will we hire a skywriter to display the words DON'T FORGET ME SHERAK above his home in angry puffs of white exhaust. Nor will we kidnap one of Wolfgang Puck's cater waiters, steal his tuxedo, and then infiltrate the Ball carrying a tray of crab cakes topped with dollops of garlic-chipotle remoulade just so we can tell Sherak in person what we think about his rejection, our whiskey-tinged breath hot on his earlobe.

We're going to stop dropping Na'vi expressions into casual conversation by April, we promise. (Note: This does not include using "I see you" whenever we need to articulate a deeper connection with the Quiznos artillery specialist preparing our Toasty Torpedo for delicious launch.)

Our cocktail party disputes about relative desirability of Taylor Lautner and Robert Pattinson will this year be settled by civilized debate, not teary, alcohol-fueled, best-of-three-falls Indian leg-wrestling matches.

Should we run into Jude Law, who's doubtlessly being barraged with fresh offers now that his once-dimmed star is again rising after his turn in Sherlock Holmes, we resolve to wordlessly press a note reading "Remember 2004" into his palm, exchange knowing nods, and then disappear into the night.

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