#355 Living in the Oughts

So there are good things about making it past the millennium. I remember when I was a kid that was like the ultimate deal. “How are old are you gonna be when the millennium gets here?” was the question we would all ask each other. Woo, like forty-eight. That’s old man, you may not even be alive. Those nearly four decades whipped by like a meteor on its way to oblivion. As the millennium loomed, riding up to the horizon came two of the horsemen of the apocalypse. Apparently, one of the others was having an apoplectic fit and the other was outsourcing brimstone manufacturing. That still left the apocalypse horseman of the fundamentalists and the apocalypse horseman of the technoids. Armageddon and Y2K. It was in all the news. Disaster tailored to your obsession. One or the other was sure to happen—the seven-headed beast was gonna rear his ugly head in the middle east, (predicted 2000 years ago to be an area of conflict, imagine that) or society was gonna go through a big system crash as Y2K leveled computers from Sheboygan to New Delhi with misdated data. Fortunately, the vista of that computer carnage never appeared through the window and the techo-prophets of doom all slunk like mouses back to their cubicles. Meanwhile the fundamentalists were relieved that they could stay on the TV airwaves and keep milking oldsters for the next 1000 years as some biblical accounting error was obviously at fault for interpreting Revelation as the formerly completely and absolutely obvious 2000 year millennium being promised as the second coming. Go figure. Beware of prophets, deserted islands, and food deprivation. Not every vision is the word of God. Ask Timothy Leary. Or get a bad burrito sometime.
In any event, there are some cool things about living in the Oughts. For one thing, baby boomers are all turning 60, which should finally bring back pants that fit under the gut and tighter in the spindly thigh. For another, the Rolling Stones are completely happy that they can now call themselves sexagenarians. Yeah baby, I’m a sexy-genarian. Come on baby tell me so
Another thing is that gas prices are finally so high that they’ve actually come out with a hybrid truck for rednecks. Yep a big diesel with a jackass in the back. When you run out of gas just hitch up your ass and pull yourself home. Being a redneck’s always been about pulling your own weight, right? Duellies are optional but they throw in the donkey harness as part of the towing accessory pack.
And finally, Nicaragua is finally getting ahead with some vacation dollars. It’s a new Rio, complete with bronzed Latin beauties, thongs, and lots and lots of coconuts. Wealthy American playboys are heading to the playas of the newly dubbed “Chickeragua.” Apocalypse anyone?
America, ya gotta love it.