Dave Barry's History of the Millennium (So Far) (18 page)

But October ends on a happy note with the celebration of Halloween, a night of magical fun when millions of youngsters, all over America, are kept indoors. The most popular costumes this year, according to retailers, are Power Ranger and Nancy Pelosi.

As the election approaches, polls show that the Democrats have a good chance to regain control of Congress. But then disaster strikes in the form of John “Mr. Laffs” Kerry, who, addressing a college audience, attempts to tell a joke, which is like a fish attempting to play the piano. This has major repercussions in…

NOVEMBER

…when Kerry's “joke” causes widespread outrage, prompting Kerry, with typical humility, to insist that it was obviously humorous and anybody who disagrees is an idiot. Kerry is finally subdued by Democratic strategists armed with duct tape, but not before many political analysts see a tightening of the race to control Congress.

As the campaign lumbers to the finish line, the Republicans desperately hope that the voters will not notice that they—once the party of small government—have turned into the party of war-bungling, corruption-tolerating, pork-spewing, power-lusting toads, while the Democrats desperately hope that the voters will not notice that they are still, basically, the Democrats. The actual voters, of course, are paying no attention, having given up on politics months ago because every time they turn on the TV all they see are political ads accusing pretty much every candidate on either side of being, at minimum, a child molester.

Thus nobody really knows what will happen as the voters go to the polls. In Florida, nobody knows anything even after the voting is over, because—prepare to be shocked—many electronic balloting machines malfunction. Voters in one district report that their machines, instead of displaying the candidates for Congress, showed
Star Wars IV.
(By an overwhelming margin, this district elects Jabba the Hutt.)

Nationwide, however, it eventually becomes clear that the Democrats have gained control of both houses of Congress. President Bush handles the defeat with surprisingly good humor, possibly because his staff has not told him about it. For their part, future House Speaker Nancy Pelosi and future Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid issue a joint statement promising to “make every effort to find common ground with the president,” adding: “We are clearly lying.” Pelosi sets about the difficult task of trying to fill leadership posts with Democrats who have not been videotaped discussing bribes with federal undercover agents.

The first major casualty of the GOP defeat is Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld, who, the day after the election, is invited to go quail hunting with the vice president. He is never seen again. As Rumsfeld's replacement, the president nominates—in what is widely seen as a change in direction on Iraq—Barbra Streisand.

In other celebrity news, Michael Richards, a graduate of the Mel Gibson School of Stand-Up, responds to a comedy club heckler by unleashing a racist tirade so vile that even John Kerry realizes it is not funny. A chastened Richards apologizes for his behavior, citing, by way of explanation, the fact that he is a moron.

Speaking of which, O.J. Simpson is once again in the headlines when Fox TV announces that Simpson will be interviewed on a two-night special show in conjunction with his new book,
If I Did It,
in which he will explain how, “hypothetically,” he would have murdered Nicole Brown Simpson and Ronald Goldman. This idea is so sick, so disgusting, so utterly depraved, that it would undoubtedly get huge ratings. But Fox, faced with withering criticism, is forced to cancel the project, which is the brainchild of publisher Judith Regan, about whom you could write a “hypothetical” book titled
If Judith Regan Had the Moral Standards of a Tapeworm.

On the economic front, the holiday shopping season officially kicks off with “Black Friday” and retailers are pleased with the numbers: 2,038 shoppers hospitalized, up 37 percent from last year.

In other good news, with four days left in the virtually storm-free 2006 hurricane season and still no storms in sight, U.S. weather experts, citing new data, predict that the season will end up having been very mild. This forecast turns out to be right on the money, but the experts waste no time on self-congratulation as they immediately begin making scientific predictions for next year's hurricane season, which, they warn, could be a bad one.

Speaking of bad…

DECEMBER

…gets off to a troubling start with the worsening situation in Iraq worsening faster than ever. The nation's hopes for a solution are pinned on the Iraq Study Group, a presidentially appointed blue-ribbon panel consisting of five Republicans, five Democrats, and the Wizard of Oz. In accordance with long-standing Washington tradition, the panel first formally leaks its report to
The New York Times,
then delivers it to the president, who turns it over to White House personnel specially trained in reading things.

In essence, the study group recommends a three-pronged approach, consisting of (1) a gradual withdrawal of U.S. troops, but not on a fixed timetable, (2) intensified training of Iraqi troops, and (3) the physical relocation of Iraq, including buildings, to Greenland. Republican and Democratic leaders, after considering the report for the better part of a nanosecond, commence what is expected to be a minimum of two more years of bickering.

With the Iraq situation pretty much solved, the world's attention shifts to Iran and its suspected nuclear program, which becomes the subject of renewed concern after U.S. satellites detect a glowing four-hundred-foot-high spider striding around Tehran. Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad insists that it is “a peaceful spider” that will be used “only for mail delivery.” Shortly thereafter, North Korea—in what many observers see as a deliberate provocation—detonates a nuclear device inside the Lincoln Memorial.

Finally responding to these new threats to international stability, the five permanent members of the UN Security Council—the U.S., the U.K., Russia, China, and Google—hold an emergency meeting in Paris, where, after heated debate, they vote to have a bottle of 1959 Château Margaux with their entrée. Unfortunately, they cannot agree on a dessert wine, causing the city, which had just reopened, to shut down completely.

In other food news, New York City, having apparently solved all of its other problems, bans “trans fats.” Hours later, police surround a Burger King in Brooklyn and fire fifty-seven bullets into a man suspected of carrying a concealed Whopper. The medical examiner's office, after a thorough investigation, concludes that the man “definitely could have developed artery problems down the road.”

Speaking of health problems, rumors that Fidel Castro is ailing gain new strength when, at an official state dinner in Havana, a waiter accidentally tips over the longtime Cuban leader's urn, spilling most of him on the floor.

In other deceased-communist news, British police decide to treat the mysterious death of a former Russian spy in London as a murder, caused by the radioactive element polonium-210. New York immediately bans the element, forcing the closure of 70 percent of the city's Taco Bells.

As the year, finally, nears its conclusion, Americans turn their attention to the holiday season, which they celebrate—as generations have before them—by frantically overbidding on eBay for the Sony PlayStation 3, of which Sony, anticipating the near-homicidal level of demand, manufactured an estimated eleven units. Millions of Americans also head “home for the holidays,” making this one of the busiest air travel seasons ever. The always-vigilant TSA responds by raising the Color Code Security Status to “Ultraviolet,” which means that passengers may not board an airplane if they contain blood.

But despite the well-founded fear of terrorism, the seemingly unbreakable and escalating cycle of violence in the Middle East, the uncertain world economic future, the menace of global warming, the near certainty that rogue states run by lunatics will soon have nuclear weapons, and the fact that America is confronting these dangers with a federal government sharply divided into two hostile parties unable to agree on anything except that the other side is scum, Americans face the new year with a remarkable lack of worry, and for a very good reason: They are busy drinking beer and watching football.

So Happy New Year.

(Burp!)

S
o that, dear reader, is where we stand now. I think we can agree, after reading these pages, that the current millennium is off to a bad start. Fortunately, it's early: We still have more than 990 years to go. Things are bound to improve, right?

Hah! If there's one thing we have established in these pages, it's that things always get worse. The serious problems facing us today—terrorism, global warming, war, nuclear proliferation, “reality” television, people walking around wearing cell phone earpieces all the time even when they're not talking on their cell phones—these problems are not going away. At the current rate of decline, this planet could be completely uninhabitable in fifty years.

But does that mean we should all despair? No, it does not. In fact, I am optimistic about the future, and I will tell you why: In fifty years, I plan to be dead. The rest of you are on your own. Good luck, and as you face the future always remember the words of Abraham Lincoln, or possibly Thomas Edison, who, when asked about the secret of happiness, said something very inspirational, yet, at the same time, very practical. I hope to include it in a later draft of this book.