THERE would be a good reason to give up on new years, after all, what is there to it other than another bout of 365 days, just one more revolution of the earth around the sun? And that, in fact, is what philosophers of the absurd have started their reflections from: the seemingly pointless repetition of the same, the drudgery of the cycle that Qoheleth in the Old Testament moaned about: "A time to sow, a time to reap," the abject meaninglessness of an unending loop! We welcome what we call "the new year" with revelry bordering on insanity, but what is it really that gives us reason for rejoicing? What is "happy" about a new year when all that it seems to be is just more of the same?

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