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Monday, I'm Afraid I've Just Signed a Contract with Microsoft, Dave. . .
Oh, my. It's really here. The Third Millennium, and the planet hasn't gone boom. Yet, anyway. Of course, considering that we face global warming/impending ice ages, incoming rocks and four years of the Dub, there's still plenty of time for things to go caca-colored. In the meantime, let's take a look at some of the events of the previous 365 days and wonder at the weirdness of it all. Madonna goes Western. There's just something deeply unnatural about seeing the Material Girl in a leather cowgirl shirt and shitkickers, writhing against a backdrop of the West while her boy hareem mixes linedancing with hiphop. And Debra Winger did the bit with the mechanical bull first and better. "President" Dub. Reactionaries across the land went into paroxysms of joy when their candidate won, despite that minor contretemps in Florida. Not quite sure if justice was done? Thousands of voters feeling disenfranchised because of the butterfly ballot? Who cares -- Dub's in the White House, and Bush Sr. is president by proxy once again. The next four years should be interesting, in the full Chinese sense of the term. The Middle East Peace Process starts circling the drain. The Palestinians hate the Israelis, the Israelis hate the Palestinians, and everybody's shooting at everyone else. A friend of mine came up with a simple answer to this, though -- have Canada take over Jerusalem. Can't you see Mounties on the steps of Temple Mount persuading everyone to be nice to each other? Y2K Fizzles, Thank Zoroaster (and hardworking COBOL programmers). Although I'm sure that people who stockpiled all that food, water et al can still throw a heck of a party. The Phantom Menace: Truly, this is Space Opera. Liam Neeson in Jedi drag, Ewan with his own lightsaber and a tail, and Natalie Portman in quasi-Oriental clobber. Was anyone else expecting the Stormtroopers to break into a chorus of Gilbert and Sullivan? Oh, but the mind reels with so much more. And it's 4:52 AM, and I have to go into work this morning. Let us simply join hands, pumpkins and sweeties, and issue forth a hope that 2001 in all its Clarkean glory is an apporpriate start for the new millennium. Me, I'm off to the shower, tra la. . . |
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