Ships ahoy, naughty boy! Tomorrow afternoon, The Shank and I set sail upon the high seas for the mighty Keystone State, wherein awaits an indulgent suburban-style fête chez Agatha. OK, so maybe we won’t be sailing the high seas, but I am sure the term “high” (as in, dare I say, the state of being) will introduce itself somehow into the equation. Perhaps a pre-celebratory “blizzunt” on the New Jersey Turnpike to celebrate the Eve’s celebration? Sure, but no cops!

And we cannot forget the inevitable dropping of The Ball at midnight’s stroke. My balls dropped in 1993, and I’ve had many a midnight “stroke” ever since! On that fine note, Happy New Year to all, and to all, a good night!