Back in the twentieth century, we didn’t say the year was one thousand nine hundred . . ., we used simpler numbers—an optional 19, then nothing bigger than 99—but in the Two Thousands, we say two thousand . . . . Before the new millennium, media loudly worried about software that could only handle two-digit years. But they failed to see the bigger problem: a bug in the people that taught the computers. Since a lifetime is less than a hundred years, humans evolved only to understand two-digit years.
Y2K came without any major computer failure, and we quickly forgot about it. We went on with our lives, ignorant of the social metamorphosis we had just made. We had changed from a thinking people to one whose mind was monopolized by the memorization of a year that’s nearly 2,000 bigger than any year we had ever had to say before. We were confused and afraid, and taken advantage of.
Congress, so as not to confuse the year with a page number, didn’t read the (rather long) USA PATRIOT Act before passing it into law. The public, which already had a big year to keep track of, certainly could not risk losing it in year-filled history books before agreeing to the Iraq war. And what if the year gets bigger, as it consistently has since Jesus’ time? We need a strong executive to keep us from anarchy we would surely devolve into.
We were made to fear by powerful men telling us times were different, the good liberal says. Good liberal, the 2004 election showed that we really did change into a fearful mass. Have hope for 2008 if it will keep you from depression, but we will be scared sheep until we return to a simpler time, in twenty ten. Or as I will call it, democrat that I am, Ten.