OMG!!! New Years Resolutions!! Whether it’s to stop smoking (fucking quitters) or losing those extra pounds to fit in your new Rascal, we all try to make ‘em. Here’s some I, Howdy S. Thompson, made for your Philadelphia Phillies. Feel free to add your own in the comments.

Brett Myers: No more ghea Ed Hardy shirts. I prefer your wifebeating to your douchey fashion choices.

Brad Lidge: Change intro music to something by Ensiferum, Slayer, or Amon Amarth. No one listens to nu-metal; it fucking sucks.

Jamie Moyer: Finally converts his 8-Tracks to the much more modern cassette tape. Someone’s gonna be bumpin’ and grindin’ all night to those Chubby Checker albums.

Carlos Ruiz: Get on base twice in the same game.

Ryan Howard: Visit the Mhmmmmm Hall of Fame before Prince Fielder devours it.

Matt Stairs: Ass-hammer some broads.

Chase Utley: In the tradition of Chad Ochocinco and Tampa Bay Buccanneer Stylez G. White, legally change name to Chase Fucking Utley.

So Taguchi: Renegotiate contract so he does not have to fulfill the clause to change his name to So Fuckingawful

Charlie Manuel: Find out how much pussy* he can get (my prediction, a bucketful) by being the manager of the World Fucking Champions.

*image of Chuckles Manuel looking for pussy inserted especially for Lynniemac.

Happy Kwanzaa all! I’ve beens busy, but come New Year, I’ll be back. Fuck the last two weeks. Fuck my lackadasical posting. Come 2009, gone will be satirical failure, kind, boring ‘Tard. Back is christraping, creative, destructive, angry, crazy, manic-depressive Howdy that fists CBS Sportsline writers elbow deep and hits on anything with a high school I.D. Expect the madness HDYSR? procreates in his writing in the coming year, cause the ladyfriend the ‘Tard has had a boner for since August is newly single. That along with pulling the coveted 10, 12, and 16 hour shift (needs greenbacks for drugs and booze) at my shitty job has H. Tard feeling all Christmasy. Enjoy your Winter Solstice, enjoy your Gregorian New Year, and stay witness to the self-destruction (we’ve got cookies and punch in the breakroom).

Tits after the jump:

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