552 I have a complaint about the so called "new" millennium.


Tom Garrett 3 years ago

Here it is only the third day of January and already I have a complaint against 2014 and its big buddy, the "new" millennium.

Is there someplace I can go to get a year fixed?

What's wrong with it? Too %$#@! awkward to say.

Two thousand and fourteen.

Are you kidding? I haven't got all day to say what year it is.

Compare that with 1714, 1814, or 1914. See? Flows right off your tongue, doesn't it? No problem. It's nothing like....



Actually, this second millennium thing has been bothering me for a long time now. I could handle it for a while, but at long last it is time to strike a blow for verbal freedom.

1066? Sure.

1812? Of course.

1918? You bet!



No way! Double yuck!

Look at all the nice sounding years we had before: Try saying any one of them: 1492, 1776, 1849, 1941, 1984. See how they just roll across your lips?

It was like that all the way from year 1 to 1999, but all of a sudden we get shoved off a cliff into a "new" millennium.

Phooey on your new millennium! Who needs it? What's a date for anyway? It's just a way of knowing you're old enough so you can get a glass of suds at the pub without some cop putting the arm on you, or remembering that you're eligible for social security and it's time to punch the time clock — and maybe that snotty boss too!

So I don't know about you, but I'm restarting the calendar. As far I am concerned the year is now 14 and next time we work our way up to 1999 we're going back to 1 again. And don't try to convince me that we aren't because I don't plan on listening.

Happy New Year 14!

Hey! I suddenly feel younger! How about that?


Bernice Winandy 3 years ago

How about twenty fourteen.

Come on now don't be a curmudgeon.


John Lemon 3 years ago

Tom, Plato/Aristotle hypothesized that what we think of as reality is just a shadow- a poor representation of Reality. I have enough problems dealing with what I think of as reality, so you go right ahead and call the year what you wish. I wish you a happy something-or-other :)


Tom Garrett 3 years ago

"Come on now don't be a curmudgeon."

I'll try. Trouble is I don't know what a "curmudgeon" is. Sounds like a hot stew for dogs. Or maybe a hot stew made from dogs. Am I close?

Thanks, John. I'm with Plato. No one will ever convince me that this mess I see around us is real.

As for Aristotle, I met him back in 1958 when I transferred from Sheppard AFB in Texas to McGuire AFB in New Jersey. He and his wife ran a three story apartment building in Trenton. We had the top floor. Very nice, except for when you're trying to carry your refrigerator up three flights of winding stairs and it has to be kept in an upright position because of the way its compressor motor is mounted.

Smart man, Aristotle! Naturally, he taught me something. I always thought that Aristotle was pronounced ah-riss-TOTT-tull but it isn't; it's ah-REES-toe-telly.

Came as no surprise to me. I was never much on Greek — or Latin either. I'll never forget the day I went by the Latin class at Christmas time and heard them singing "tinia, tinia, tin tin abulum" (jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way).

That was in 1948; I stopped laughing in 1952. Had to. That was the year they sent me to Iceland. One look at that place and anyone would stop laughing. There were 125,000 Icelandics up there. Never saw one of them crack a smile.


Bernice Winandy 3 years ago

Can't believe that you don't know the meaning of curmudgeon. For the record (according to my dictionary) a crusty, ill-tempered and usually old man. :-)

I wonder what they would call a crusty, ill-tempered and usually old woman? Now let's not get too nasty.


Pat Randall 3 years ago

Bernice, A female dog. But not in those words.


Tom Garrett 3 years ago

Pat, I think you hit it!

I know a story about that, a true one.

I was standing at the top of Cletus Ray Road in Pine one day, which dead ends in the national forest. It was a blazing hot summer day, but I was looking out over Pine from the western heights, standing on a path that circles some properties up there. The view from that little circular path up there is the best one in town.

Suddenly a large furry dog came shooting out of some manzanitas off to my left on the path and shot past me so fast it almost bowled me over.

I was still looking at the place where the dog had disappeared where the path went into some junipers on the other side of me when I'm hanged if two more dogs didn't come out of the manzanitas on my left and go flying by.

I was still shaking my head five minutes later when I'm hanged if the same crazy dog didn't come blasting out of the manzanitas on my left again. It went charging by and disappeared into the same open stand of junipers on the other side of me — followed just a minute later by the other two crazy dogs.

Scratching my head, I started to turn and leave when the SAME doggone dog came flying by a third time. This time, I stepped back to give the other two dogs room to get by me, but it was a few minutes before they came out of the manzanitas and this time they were slowed way down.

In fact, looking half dead they stopped right in front of me, panting, mouths open, tongues hanging out.

"Whew!" One of the dogs said. "Ain't this a bitch!"

"It better be!" the other one said.



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