So here we go, not just a new year but a whole new decade to screw up. It's like gazing across a virgin snowfield or looking out onto a beach that's been cleansed by the tide. I defy anyone not to feel a thrill of hope at this pristine page of the future waiting to be scrawled all over. Perhaps a hope that, after a decade of the war on terror, we can get a grip on our paranoia before governments mandate nude air travel. A hope that our legislators will listen less to the special interests, bankers, and corporations, and more to the needs of the common man (whether he wants free healthcare or not). And on a personal level, a hope that I get this sodding application finished, that the house gets sold—or at least some sort of financial equilibrium emerges—and that I find a way to make the most of the talents I've been given. I hope you can do the same. Failing that, let's at least doodle a few rude cartoons on the pages of time. Good luck and God bless.