New Year? Is That Anything Like “New Coke?”

Well, everybody should be over their New Years hangovers, and resolutions should have been shredded faster than… never mind, Enron jokes were so last year. So lets get down to brass tacks (what does that mean anyways?):

Predictions for the new year!

I say it’s gonna stink and no good is going to come from it. Why, you ask?

No, it’s not the fact that Iraq and the U.S. are going to tango soon. Sure it will be a bloody mess, but we’ll come out on top… probably.

And no, it’s not the fact that North Korea and the U.S. are going to cha-cha. What’s the worse that could happen there? Nuclear annihilation? Please… sure the surface of the earth would be turned into glass, but that could be a good thing. Industrial scotch-guard! A laminated planet would mean environmentalists would never again have to worry about those nasty oil stains… or footprints for that matter.

And it’s certainly not the fact that aliens are cloning our children for an Unholy Army of Replicants from Beyond Belgium. There’s not much threat from babies born with seventy-year old organs and have arthritis. Jango Fett they ain’t (obligatory Star Wars reference). If anything, it’d be like a legion of everyone’s stereotypical aunt. Nothing that could mess up a year.

The reason that this brave new year is going to make me ill is this: Say two-thousand and three… go on, say it out loud a few times.

Not too catchy is it? This is the future damnit! We need to have a year that rolls off the tongue.

1999 – pretty cool. Not only was it the harbinger of the new millennium to come, it was a Prince (rather, Artist Formerly Known As) song. Lyrical and prophetical.

2000 – A good sounding year. Ominous, yet easy to say. Twoooo-thousand. Y2K. I like it; lets keep it.

2001- Enough said. This year has been in floating throughout our language for so long, it’s hard not to say it… Monoliths people, monoliths!

2002 – Not bad… it is a palindrome (of sorts) after all. Two thousand and two; nice.

Now we come to the train wreck, 2003 – the year of the suffering dog… Two thousand and threeeeeee; Sounds like somebody scraping a chalkboard. 2002 you can trail off – two thousand and twoooo. Try that with this year and people are going to think you just saw a mouse. Because of this, 2003 has an unspoken thud after it. Two thousand and three, period! Try it. See!

So, this year isn’t going to be bad because of war, famine, plague, crazed cults or anything like that. It’s simply because father time gave his boy a sissy name.