Here It Comes

 New Year's Eve. A night when, traditionally, people all over the world welcome the New Year.

But I have the feeling a lot of people are saying, Uh, not so fast.

One year ago at midnight, we welcomed 2020 into our lives. People wore funny "2020" eyeglasses and poured into Times Square and even made cute jokes about how Barbara Walters should say "Good evening, and this is 2020!" (Get it?)

And look how 2020 thanked us. Wuhan virus, dreadful deaths. Restaurants and small businesses shut down and driven out of business. A roaring economy tanked. And a certain dementia patient.... oh, I can't even go there.

Churches shut down. And when they reopened it was with a whole new manual of how to attend mass.  Only sit six feet apart, hit the road as soon as you've received Holy Communion, make your thanksgiving in the parking lot, dammit! No holy water at the doors, no paper bulletins, no singing. And don't even talk to me about donut hour.

Masks and self-appointed mask Nazis. You try to blow your nose and people look at you like you've pulled a knife on them. I could go on and on, but I'm depressing myself.

So to 2021 I say, sorry, pal, but you're on probation. Show me you can do better than the last loser who headed the calendar and I might consider a warm welcome, or at least a less suspicious one.

So you'd better be bringing your A game.