“And to you. We sure need a good one.”

That’s what a friend just texted me when I texted him to say “Happy New Year.” I’m surprised and not surprised by how many of my friends feel the same way (the sentiment seems to be the status du jour on Facebook).

I haven’t written about it here until now, but on October 20th I was in a pretty big car accident. I don’t want to go into it now, but let’s just say that I was forced to participate in someone else’s accident as he plowed into me at what was probably more than 80 miles per hour as he was desperately trying to get somewhere else far too quickly. I’ve been dealing with that in the nine weeks since, and I’m almost ready to write some more about it here — maybe — but here’s the big takeaway:

I’m glad to be here. Really.

And while I know there’s a lot of struggle going on out there, around the country and certainly around the world, most of us have it better than we know.

From the perspective of someone who gets as many meals a day as he likes, who has a place to live and a life to share with family and friends, who has the pleasure of books and music and the arts, who is engaged in his community and who has, for the most part, his health, 2010 was a pretty good year. Will 2011 be better for many of us? I think so. Will it be worse for others? Absolutely. But whatever the future, that artificially carved into 12 months future, holds for us, we should make the most of it and most of us should recognize our general good fortune.

That Rolling Rock retains the tagline “Same As It Ever Was” even though they changed the formula. It’s four years later and I’m still outraged. The people behind Rolling Rock are frauds and mountebanks and they brew a crummy beer. I contemn them with all my vigor.

(And yes, it’s 8 p.m. and I’m still at my office writing and I’m wishing I had a real Rolling Rock.)

Stan Lee turned 88 yesterday and he’s still going strong. Further proof:  Earlier this month, the Los Angeles Business Journal recognized him as one of their “Eight Over 80”:  business people in Los Angeles in their 80’s still leading professional lives. Here’s the piece.

Courtesy of the Huffington Post, herewith a Venn diagram for the three people who get paid to touch your junk.

Recomended reading: Steely Dan’s Donald Fagen deconstructs Jean Shepherd, the storyteller behind the beloved holiday classic “A Christmas Story.”

My youngest’s cold. He couldn’t even bother to wrap it.

So that’s partly what I’ve been up to the last few days.

Earlier, I related some big changes that have come to Archie’s old crowd. (Among them: Moose has both a learning disability and anger-management problems.) Now the old gang gets to learn about mortality, with the demise of a character whose age at time of death I estimate at 135. (So I can’t feel too sad about it.)

Simple plain wisdom from the redoubtable Fred Willard. Plan your future behavior accordingly.

What’s the ideal gift for that special Star Trek fan on your Christmas list? How about one-of-a-kind hatbox dioramas of Kirk and Spock celebrating the most wonderful time of the lightyear?

While I’m waiting for the hatboxes featuring Mr. Fantastic and Samuel Beckett, I’m betting my friend Larry would like to have these.

Here’s how you can get them.

(And p.s. to Larry and other nitpicky Trek fans:   I know “original” Trek didn’t have the holodeck. So leave me alone.)

I’ve been pleasantly surprised by how much coverage the dearly departed Don Van Vliet has been getting.

Today’s LA Times had a large obit smack on the front page of the Calendar section. Here it is.  I especially appreciated the degree to which Richard Cromelin noted the Captain’s influence (although I couldn’t help noting that the band Talking Heads is referred to as “The Talking Heads” — despite their having once released an album entitled “The Name of This Band is Talking Heads”).

Early this evening on NPR I heard a rather lengthy coverage of Captain Beefheart’s career, including a bit of audio from one of his last interviews, conducted  in the early 1990’s. In that interview at least, Van Vliet, who suffered from multiple sclerosis, sounded greatly weakened, and barely able to speak intelligibly. That, in addition to his frustrations with other performers and the general state of his musical career, made it easier to understand why he quit music for a highly successful career as a painter. Still, it was an odd experience hearing what I’d always considered a rather obscure and nigh “unlistenable” favorite act of mine profiled so lovingly on NPR.

Finally, I caught Henry Rollins’ show on KCRW. Although the online setlist doesn’t mention Captain Beefheart & the Magic Band, Rollins spoke passionately about the impact of their music, and played three tracks — one from the band’s first album, “Safe as Milk,” one from the masterpiece, “Trout Mask Replica,” and one from “Shiny Beast (Bat Chain Puller)” — spanning their career. All three were exciting and showed the impressive range of their inventiveness. Rollins said that all the Captain Beefheart albums are worth listening to (I agree), even though some are out of print. (Including the debut, “Safe as Milk.”) He said that often when an artist as significant as Beefheart does, someone will do a reissue or a compilation collection, and he’s hopeful for that. But then, more importantly, he said that he’s got ten 90-minute tapes of unreleased Captain Beefheart music and that he’s going to start digitizing it and throwing on the air. Some of us have been waiting almost 30 years for new Captain Beefheart music. Stay tuned.