So 2011's been put out with the recycling now, and it damn well belongs there. Any year that gave us what it gave us deserves to be ground into slivers and come back to us as cans of Alpo.
After all, here's what we got from 2011, in no particular order:
Jerry Sandusky, and the people at Penn State who protected him by looking the other way. The American political system devolving into the Tournament of Kooks Parade. The death of Dan Wheldon. Billionaires locking out millionaires because, you know, being filthy rich is such a burden. LeBron 'n' them.
A year like that just leaves you with a gonging headache and a stomach that feels like a storm-tossed sea. And not because you're hungover from New Year's Eve.
So, that being the case, here's what the Blob fervently wishes to see in 2012:
* An IndyCar season in which no one dies.
* A rerun of Tony Stewart vs. Carl Edwards at Homestead, the single most riveting sporting event of 2011.
* Christian Watford for the win. Again.
* An upside-down mortgage, a car that won't run and hasn't been paid off, and zippo health insurance for the owners who locked out the players in the NFL and NBA, just so they know what actual financial hardship feels like.
* No more Jerry Sanduskys. Please, God.
* Komets win! Komets win!
* Mad Ants win! Mad Ants win!
* TinCaps win! TinCaps win!
And last but not least ....
* One more chance to walk down through the pits on race morning in May, and to see a sideline erupt in delirious joy as the clock hits zeroes on a crisp Friday night in October, and to hear hey-battah-battah drift through the warm air from some raggedy Wildcat diamond on a warm morning in June.