Welcome, reader, to the last 2020 issue of Little Village. This year, more than any other, it feels like a milestone, but I cannot imagine an appropriate way to commemorate it. Is there anything to say about this year that hasn’t already been said? Have you heard a single current events-related witticism that made you feel anything other than utter despair since April? Yeah, me neither.
Every single blog, publication and friend you have on Facebook seems determined to constantly remind you of everything that’s gone wrong in the last year. It’s OK, they insist, that none of your pants fit and you spend most of your free time sitting down in the shower and weeping. They then offer you a “friendly reminder” of the skyrocketing COVID rates, rapidly melting ice caps and imminent implosion of the U.S. government. For those who already have the state’s COVID-19 dashboard bookmarked and saw every single one of the president’s Randy Quaid retweets in real time, it’s absolutely exhausting. The concept of self-care is definitionally incompatible with caring about everything in direct proportion to how important it is, and it’s easy to urge people to prioritize both from behind the comfort of your laptop screen. Look, I’m doing it now!
If I could make one wish for all of you this Festivus (I’ll try, but Jerry Seinfeld no longer grants my wishes because I made fun of his haircut too much) it would be that you find some peace before the year is over. However, it’s pretty obvious that if you want it, you’re going to have to just make it. If one of your Facebook friends says something even mildly annoying, block them, even if it’s your mom. Don’t go to the bars, because at this point, that pretty much makes you a psychopath; instead, get plastered with your friends on Skype like it’s 2009. Eat your veggies and get your eight hours of sleep and floss, because when you finally do get to go outside, you’ll be glad you haven’t physically turned into a cave troll, as well as emotionally. Assuming the planet hasn’t been destroyed by gamma rays or some equally out-of-pocket thing, I’ll be back in January. Hopefully, by then, life will feel a little funnier.
This article was originally published in Little Village issue 289.