Remember how everyone made a big stink last year about the new millennium, and how some die-hard Nazi scientific-type folk insisted that the year 2000 was not, in fact, the first year of the new millennium?
They had a very simple proposition, based on the fact that the first year of A.D. was numbered 1 A.D., and not 0 A.D.
It is a perfectly clear concept. To understand it, all you have to do is appreciate the concept of zero as a placeholder.
I remember spending an inordinate amount of time struggling to comprehend this fact when I was in elementary school.
It was almost as baffling as the whole disappearing-body-parts-in the-photograph phenomenon in "Back to the Future." But I figured out Marty McFly, and I sure as hell figured out zero.
So with my hard-earned cosmic wisdom, I have decided that it would be damn near idiotic to ignore the upcoming "true millenium." Sure, there's no threat of world-wide chaos caused by a little dilemma we called the "Y2K bug," wherein all the computers of the world would flip out exactly one week before the year 2000 and start playing "1999" by Prince and the New Revolution.
Sure, there's no huge nationwide bash in the middle of our nation's capital hosted by Will Smith. Unfortunately, we've seen the Willennium come and go.
But what there will be in this "true millennium" is a whole new world, practically begging to be turned on its head. When the ball drops on Dec. 31, 2000, I, for one, intend to grab this world by the horns, bending and shaping it in accord with my own fantastic, maniacal vision.
First off, I'm going to march on down to the nursing homes and set the old folks free. As they tote their Metamucil bottles under their arms, dancing and skipping down the street like school girls with irritable bowel syndrome, the doctors, nurses and orderlies will chase frantically behind them, singing their own reggae version of the Baha Men smash single "Who Let the Geriatrics Out?"
