Byline: Nathan Graziano

Make a list of your goals for 2025. Know you’re unlikely to follow through with most of them; know the act is largely symbolic; know your ass is never waking up early to exercise.

‘Twas the night before Festivus, and all through the house, not a wallet was sighted, and I was losing my freaking mind. 

Arguments in favor of identifying “Die Hard” as a Christmas movie include the film being set on Christmas Eve, during a Christmas party, where a group of terrorists take hostages in the Los Angeles skyscraper. Off-duty police officer McClane then takes on the terrorists, and the rest of the film follows the general three-act script of any action film to its conclusion.

To be honest, I’m not sure how I feel about the resurgence of the mustache. While I’m vehemently opposed to the revival of the mullet—which I shamelessly flaunted long after the trend originally passed—I’m ambivalent about the mustache. 

Speaking of relatives, I’ve long wondered if luck—good or bad—might also be hereditary. To my knowledge, scientists have yet to isolate a “luck” gene, but I’m sure that we can all probably name a few families who seem to have an inordinate amount of luck—horseshoes up the keister—as well as some families who seem downright snakebitten.

In my own attempt to make sense of this, I went for a long walk in the woods—maybe channeling my inner-Wordsworth—the day after the election. For some reason, the lyrics to Bruce Springsteen’s “Independence Day”—from his 1980 album “The River”—kept playing in my head. 

But we, liberals and conservatives alike, should never dehumanize each other. We need to keep in mind—regardless of the result on Tuesday, or Wednesday morning, or two weeks from Tuesday when all of the votes are finally counted—that ideological differences don’t make us enemies, at least not in a democracy. 

I’m talking, of course, about demonic possession. If a character is possessed by a demonic spirit, I’m out. If a ouija board is in any way part of the mise en scène, I’m also out. Demonic possession is a surefire way to freak out a Catholic—even a lapsed-Catholic, like me. 

This election, plain and simple, is about keeping one of the worst people on the planet out of the Oval Office for a second time. At this point, I can’t fake diplomacy or pretend to be conciliatory with the MAGA movement.

And while this might make me seem unhip, it was the first gay wedding that I’ve ever attended, and I am almost 50 years old.