For years I’ve read other’s year-end holiday newsletters, accepting that some of you might have a lower “thrill threshold” than I do. Of course, if people didn’t find the boring, exciting, Cracker Barrel would have gone out of business years ago.

Knowing how low the literary bar is set on these babies, I figured, what the “frack?” I’m joining the club to inflict my year’s excitement on you.

It started in Thailand where Anna and I spent New Year’s Eve dodging errant fireworks tossed by drunken tourists. It seems that normal physics do not apply in paradise, and a cherry bomb aimed into a crowd could not possibly hurt anyone. They have monkeys and elephants there.  What could go wrong?

By June, 2011 had the feel of a productive year filled with art shows and creative opportunities. In spite of the recession and business slowdown, most things were good. Then… our hopes for a better future were dashed by the sole monumental letdown of “Cowboys and Aliens.”

The title alone, “Cowboys and Aliens,” was enough to fill every living soul with the excitement of a perfect idea realized. It had both, COWBOYS and ALIENS. Never paired together before in the history of cinema. We've had the Borg and that big-headed midget from ET, that heinous thing from “Alien,” time-traveling mailboxes and spaghetti Westerns, but this was Cowboys and Aliens. The potential for this film, much like the year 2011, was limitless.

As Anna and I drove to the Grand Canyon, we saw billboard after billboard challenging us to cut short our road tour and get back to the Vista Theater for a night of widescreen Technicolor interplanetary shoot-'em up. Who needs that never-ending hole of a tourist trap when aliens were ready to be outsmarted by James Bond and the pretty girl from “House?”

Yeah, yeah. The Canyon was beautiful. We stayed in an old brothel on route 66.  We saw cowboys, no aliens. To be more specific, we saw a lot of French, Russian and Chinese people with cameras, but no space aliens. We did go to Bedrock City where Fred Flintstone lived.

Back from Arizona we did a quick trip to NY for an art opening, where Times Square taunted us with huge displays of cowboys chased by metallic spacecraft. Weeks of prerelease promotions were taking their toll. I needed to see that movie! Anna was less than thrilled, and to be quite honest, it is the only time I have ever reconsidered our relationship. Again... it had COWBOYS and ALIENS.

After thousands of miles and scheduling bugaboos, the time had come. We had our tickets. We got center seats. I dragged a friend, an “alien” visiting from Poland, for an advanced course in what America still has to offer the world.

As we sat through the previews, I kept thinking how much I had enjoyed the year so far. Yeah, 2011 was turning out A-OK: some good press, a possible TV show, my cat with no back feet still healthy enough to toss out an never-ending stream of hairballs. Anna and I had been getting noticed for our “Exploding Tattoo” series. Great things were lined up for the rest of the year, and now we were about to have an Oscar-winning movie experience.

I know anyone who saw this piece of cinematic crap will back me up on this. Within 20 minutes our dreams of the perfect movie experience were deader than Billy the Kid... after he got shot repeatedly. Think “Snakes on a Plane” multiplied by "Ishtar" disappointment. What the hell? How could this happen? Someone got paid a ton to write this dog of a film. They even had Harrison Ford for God’s sake. Oh, the humanity! The disappointment! The abject failure of an easy idea! How could it go so terribly wrong?

From that day, I’m sorry to say, the year went to hell. Sure, Herman Cain supplied some good laughs. I still find the energy to paint, but it is as if 2011 was cut short. The recession, the bailouts, and making ends meet weigh on me. All made worse knowing there is no reason for a “Cowboys and Aliens II.”  “Puss and Boots” was okay, but not enough to lift us out of our national malaise.

2012 has got to be better.

Batman, the pressure is on.