t was a year for change, where nothing happened. A time for war and for peace, filled with endless casualties in both. The president dressed up like a fighter pilot. A year where we lost both Johnny Cash and Bob Hope, and probably a lot of others that don’t come to mind. And, of course, the tragedy of nothing happening to those global icons we all wished dead.

Yes, despite the deaths of dozens, maybe hundreds of celebrities from all kinds of careers, nothing can make up for the heartbreak of the world’s smarmiest celebrities surviving another year.

The American public took the good with the bad, and even the fact we finally buried lifelong conservative, segregationist, and private-life hypocrite Strom Thurmond could not make up for the fact backroom dealmaking Vice President Dick Cheney is still kicking around the White House. Representative Bill Janklow lost his seat after killing a farmer in his district who may have even voted for him, but left behind to do his ill will is gay-bashing Senator Rick Santorum, not hit and killed by any motorist anywhere.

Meanwhile, all Americans everywhere recall with solemnity when all nine Democratic candidates for president in 2004, sniping each other continuously in debates for the nomination, were not struck by a meteor and instantly killed in a freak accident imaginary statisticians described as “one in a ka-billion.�

Politicians were not the only ones to defy a dose of cosmic justice. Country music pig-yeller Toby Keith won the hearts of the ignorant everywhere with his simple home-style songs of hatred, and tragedy never struck when later this year, while at a concert, Keith grabbed a microphone and fried every blood cell in his redneck white trash body. His chance for death will be sorely missed.

The world of rock also experienced some major lack of losses: Members of Nickelback, Train, Sevendust, Limp Bizkit, Godsmack, Staind, Linkin Park, Audioslave, and Creed stunned the rock world by avoiding drug overdoses, alcohol poisoning, mob- or gang-related deaths, terminal diseases, and crashing one-engine planes to continue making music. While the pop charts suffered from the survival of teen pop agents like Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, Hilary Duff, and even ancient crumpet Madonna.

But possibly the biggest misfortune in the entertainment history could be the surprise double-murder that never happened of so-called “Bennifer� media sensations Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck. The two are set to follow-up box office flop Gigli with Jersey Girl and other film vehicles for the pair, now unstoppable in the wake of their not dying.

As we look back on 2003, with all its many losses, the names continue to form on our list of the wished-dead. Anna Nicole Smith, Carrot Top, Paris Hilton, any of the Bachelors or, for that matter, all reality TV celebrities everywhere, and that smug morning anchor on CNN. We remember the year, and mourn quietly, but not for too long. 2004 is starting before our eyes, full of potential car accidents, street crime, and even the threat of terrorism any of our least favorite public figures can be unfortunately placed right in the middle of. Godspeed in 2004.

merica from coast to coast set a personal best record Saturday when it was forced to announce, collectively, all resolutions made for 2004 have been broken since January 1st. The resolutions, some made half-heartedly to feel as if the maker was doing something different, and others made as die-hard declarations of change, were broken consistently in larger and larger numbers since the beginning of year.

Among the favorite quickly-broken resolutions are health concerns, resulting in promises of daily exercise or more attention to dietary needs. Resolution scientists at M.I.T. calculate approximately 63% of resolutions made address these concerns, and big fat America decided not to be concerned about the concerns entirely by Saturday. Excuses for ceasing daily exercise programs included: "Just don't have the time," "Just don't have the floor space," "Just don't have the energy," and "Just don'wanna." The most common cited excuse in quitting new diets was found to be attending a restaurant with friends where they had something really, really good, or the occasional explanation that a box of Twinkies woke them up, calling from the cabinet to be eaten.

Approximately 32,000 promises to go vegetarian or vegan this year were already broken as well, 12,385 of them because resolution makers just found out turkey isn't a vegetable. Resolutions to eat less fast food were abandoned when people found out how much easier it is to eat fast food than slow food, not to mention the comparative speed difference.

Other popular broken resolutions concerned finances, including putting more money into savings, spending less impulsively, and getting into the stock market. Frequent reasons for giving up these resolutions include being too difficult to save money, wanting to pick up something cute, and losing a whole ass in the stock market. One resolution maker reported the failure of his New Year's promise to save money when his dealer wouldn't negotiate a price drop.

Among rarer career-oriented resolutions were pledges to move up the ladder at work, especially for plenty of roofers out there. Quite often incompetence on the job led to quick dismissal of these resolutions, though researchers aren't ruling out complete unsuitability for a career or work in general, a total lack of motivation, and being universally loathed at the workplace. Steve Compson of Miller Beach, Florida, insisted his rejection of his New Year's oath was due to deciding he was happy not having all the troubles of assistant manager, and waiting to see if Lyle takes that sweet Burger King gig.

Resolution watchers found Americans are not only complete failures at controlling forces outside themselves, but the nation also does extremely poorly of holding true to promises of character improvement. Personal pledges to be nicer to people and listen to what they are saying were dropped like bad habits right away, frequently citing how much other people weren't nice or listening to them, with a few cases of he doesn't know what the hell he's talking about and the bitch just won't shut up thrown in for good measure.

Promises to have more confidence were brushed off when resolution-makers realized they lacked the personal power of change to do so. Several oaths to build self-esteem and fight depression ended with resolution-makers crawling into large tubs of cookie dough ice cream, and some still have yet to come out again.

On a more personal note, resolutions to get laid like cheap carpet haven't worked out for most either, often due to personal unattractiveness in non-reporter cases or incapability of saying anything without sounding like a smarmy ass. Then again, it's always possible women just don't give a brother no play.

Editor's Note: Sampson L. Hartwig may be gone and presumed dead, his stuff long since passed around to the staff members who have gone through his desk, but the prolific Hartwig had oodles and oodles of remembrances we were never desperate enough to run. Until now. Enjoy!

I remember my first trip to the hospital. It was the birth of my sister, Stephanie, and I was only a little tyke. Me and my brother Goose were both five. Actually, Goose was three years older than me, but always wanted everything I had, so my dad made us both five. Come to think of it, Goose never did get those years back.

The hospital was a big, scary place for a little kid. Everything was white and sterile, people moved around gigantic electric equipment since back then everything was tubes and hand-cranks—thermometers took up whole rooms. And then there were the doctors, big old scary guys walking around with masks on their faces like bank robbers. As a kid I thought it was so nobody knew, even the nurses, who left the sponge in the guy after they sewed him up. Kind of like when they shoot a guy, there's four riflemen with one bullets. Though I guess you could bring your own bullets from home to make sure, no one's stopping you.

All I knew was Mom came in with a bellyache and a big fat stomach. I thought it was because Dad punched her there all the time, but he said he just did that so the baby would come out with good reflexes. You may scoff now, with your modern sensibilities, but back then it was common, the government even told you to do it. I remember a big poster of Teddy Roosevelt in our school telling us to "Punch one for the hun!" Man, that slogan rhymed.

The doctor tried to tell me exactly what was happening. Mom and Dad had decided to have a baby together, and they laid down in a bed, and nine months later came along a baby, which would be a little boy or girl. He said "the stork" was just a myth, and that baby's come out because of complicated biology.

Well, obviously, Goose and I beat the hell out of him, held him down, and threatened to cut out his tongue with a broken bottle if he started telling people such lies. Our Mom and Dad never laid down in a bed together in their lives. That was something foreigners did maybe, but not Mom and Dad.

Come to think of it, I never did really figure out how Mom got the baby out. You'd think I'd have picked that up over the years by now. I always just assumed it ripped its way out of the front of her stomach and that's why Mom never wore a two-piece bathing suit.

º Last Column: Good-Bye
º more columns