So, like... Blog

Well, yet another year has come and gone. We've seen yet another group of people subjugated by the CEO of Haliburton and his lackeys, promised and then denied freedom. Michael Jackson was accused again of being a pedophile. I started at least five projects that I didn't finish, and got my first flame IM. Sure, it was a busy year, but I still have one question.

Where the hell are the flying cars? I want a jet pack and anti-gravity boots, damn it! You promised me robots with better scripts than humans, telekinetic mutants, and the end of the world. It was yet another year of dissapointment as last generation's predictions about the future failed to come true. Not only are we not all watching TV or being systematically eliminated for failing to do so, but Big Brother is proving to be as inept as he is tyrannical. Our books remain unedited and intact, and I can not go get a pizza in a pill from a bar on Mars. Hell, we haven't even been to the moon again!

There is no revolution by the proletariat, Atlantis did not rise from under the Atlantic. Bat Boy may have had a secret love affair with Saddam Hussein only to find out that Saddam is really just some guy with a bushy beard, and Rush Limbaugh is still a big fat idiot -just a little doped out. I am still no closer to figuring out how to build a time machine to go back and fix humanity before God cocked it up, I still haven't developed pyrokinesis, and I still haven't finished that story I promised to give to Heccubus as part of his compilation thingus. Also, the War on Freedom got kicked up a notch.

So, with all that in mind, what does 2004 look like for us, the poor thinking people, stuck in a world of mindless zombies? Let me use my crystal 9 Volt battery that's been laying by my computer for three months and scry into the future!

Oh spirits of AC/DC, give me ethereal Sting(s), and bestow upon us the Kiss of knowledge. We ask that we are released from the Iron Maiden of dispair, and lifted so that our heads may rest just outside the guillitine of transcendence.

They come!

I see... another year of poorly written Simpsons episodes... Survivor 90... Howard Dean being elected president, only to die his first day in office and have a written statement turn up that W. was his true Vice President. I see... Who Wants to Marry a Hobo... Dick Clark is finally proven to be a robot... Jimmy Hoffa's Body is revealed to have been chopped into millions of pieces and served as Chicken McNuggets in the '70s... another shitty pop-rock band gets success and public appeal while talented musicians struggle to pay for their six packs of soda during rehersals... Cher starts recording again... the body of Vincent Van Gogh is re-animated by necromancy... Cher stops recording... video games and explicit lyrics in music decided not the root of all evil... the Mars rover explodes because it runs over a poor Martian's home... snowmen come to life and take over the world...

Well, it's out of juice. There you have it. Predictions of what will happen. Tomorrow: my New Year's resolutions.

posted by Slade at 9:45 PM