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

by Dave Barry

  Lieberman is seen as a solid choice, but there is tension at the Democratic Convention in Los Angeles, where the Gore camp suspects that Bill Clinton is trying to hog the limelight. A Clinton staffer denies this, claiming that “security considerations” led to the decision to have the president enter the convention hall riding a chariot drawn by lions.

  In other entertainment news, Monday Night Football debuts Dennis Miller, hired as a color commentator to boost ratings. The first broadcast goes well, as Miller interacts well with play-by-play announcer Britney Spears.

  In consumer news, owners of certain models of Firestone tires receive a troubling notice from the manufacturer urging them to “lock yourself in your bathroom immediately.” Congress holds emergency hearings, but is unable to get testimony from Firestone tire designers, who are busy working on an improved new ballot for Palm Beach County.

  On a positive automotive note, the nation is captivated by the story of eighty-three-year-old Tillie Tooter, who survives three days trapped in her car in a swamp. Police later determine that she was run off the road by Florida state agriculture officials, who suspected she might be carrying infected citrus trees in her trunk. In angry response, a Florida jury orders the tobacco industry to pay another $300 billion in damages.

  Speaking of survivors: The summer’s surprise hit TV show, Survivor, climaxes when the other contestants vote to elect, as the grand prize winner, Richard Hatch, best known for walking around naked. Hours later, in what aides for each side claim is a coincidence, Al Gore and George W. Bush both hold “town hall” meetings in the nude.

  Tiger Woods is kidnapped by rival golfers, sedated, handcuffed, placed in a straitjacket, wrapped in chains, and locked inside a trunk, which is then weighted with concrete blocks and dropped into the deepest part of the Pacific Ocean. He easily wins the PGA Championship.

  And speaking of crime, in…

  SEPTEMBER

  …the Midwest is terrorized by a vicious outlaw gang that robs a string of banks by threatening to put Firestone tires on the tellers’ cars.

  But the real excitement occurs in the political arena, where Al Gore and George W. Bush spend much of the month sparring vigorously over the critical question—foremost on the minds of every American—of what will be the format for their debates. Gore proposes a series of seventeen debates, fifteen of which would consist entirely of the vice president reading selected portions of his book Earth in the Balance, soon to be released as a major motion picture featuring Alec Baldwin as an endangered species. The Bush camp counters with a proposal for one debate, to consist of a round of horseshoes, man to man, with no talking. The two sides finally settle on three debates: one in the standing format, one in the sitting format, and one with both candidates in a hot tub with Jim Lehrer.

  Meanwhile, both Bush and Gore seek to impress the voters with their qualifications to hold the world’s most powerful office by appearing on The Tonight Show with Jay Leno, The Late Show with David Letterman, Late Night with Conan O’Brien, The Oprah Winfrey Show, Judge Judy, Sesame Street, Gilligan’s Island, Scooby-Doo, and—most notably—Teletubbies, where Vice President Gore claims that he was the inspiration for Noo-Noo the magic vacuum cleaner, and Gov. Bush, in a controversial move, kisses Tinky Winky on the lips.

  On the issues front, Gore proposes that the federal government reduce gas prices by releasing oil from the nation’s strategic petroleum reserve, kept in giant salt domes in Louisiana. Despite opposition from Gov. Bush, who criticizes the plan as “an act of fragrant perspiration,” President Clinton orders the release of thirty million barrels of oil. The joy of consumer groups soon turns to alarm as a fifteen-foot-high wave of petroleum wipes out Baton Rouge. Everyone agrees this is no big loss.

  In another consumer development, Kraft Foods voluntarily recalls millions of taco shells after discovering that some of them contained genetically altered corn. A Kraft spokesperson stresses that the tacos are “perfectly safe,” provided that they “are handled properly” and “never allowed near children.”

  In legal news, the U.S. Justice Department, which has been holding Los Alamos physicist Wen Ho Lee in jail for eighteen months after identifying him as a major atomic spy, announces that it has reduced the charges to two counts of improper parking. Also getting good legal news are Bill and Hillary Clinton, who heave a sigh of relief when the special prosecutor investigating Whitewater announces that, after years of investigation, he has no earthly idea what “Whitewater” is. The president declares that he is “proud and humbled to join the ranks of such big-legacy presidents as George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, and John F. Kennedy, who also were never indicted in connection with Whitewater.”

  In Florida, state agriculture officials escalate the scope of the War on Citrus Canker to include “any object that is yellow or orange.” Within a week, state crews have destroyed five thousand school buses, twenty-seven thousand traffic cones, and Donald Trump’s hair. Outraged, a Florida jury slaps another $500 billion in damages on the tobacco companies.

  The international highlight of September is the Summer Olympics, which were actually held in Australia in July but are just now reaching the United States. The delay results from the broadcast format chosen by NBC, which has decided to make the Olympics interesting to U.S. viewers by adding sound-tracks, breaking away from the competition to show dramatic profiles, and using computers to digitally replace foreign athletes with popular NBC sitcom characters. The highlight of the games, without question, is the thrilling moment when—with the entire Australian nation cheering as if with one voice—the women’s 400-meter race is won by Frasier star Kelsey Grammer.

  Unfortunately, the Olympics also produces some unhappy moments. Suspicions of drug use are raised by the noticeable buildup of syringes on the bottom of the swimming pool. And the women’s gymnastics competition is marred when the vault is set to an incorrect height of fifty-seven feet by volunteer officials from Palm Beach County. But all in all it is a fine Olympics, with thirty-nine gold medals going to the United States, thirty-two to the Russian Federation, twenty-eight to China, and 2,038 to Tiger Woods.

  Unfortunately, the spirit of international friendship is nowhere to be found in…

  OCTOBER

  …when the Middle East again erupts in violence, touched off when a sacred Jerusalem religious site is severely damaged by an errant interceptor missile being tested for the U.S. missile defense system. The Pentagon blames the malfunction on the fact that the missile “was, in violation of proper procedure, equipped with Firestone tires.”

  In another major international development, massive street protests in Yugoslavia force the resignation of President Slobodan Miloševicć, who is replaced by Vojislav Koštunica, who promises to “work toward a day when every Yugoslavian citizen has a pronounceable name.” Miloševicć, ending thirteen years as a dictatorial thug, flees to the United States, where he takes a job in customer service.

  Meanwhile, the U.S. presidential campaign reaches a fever pitch as Al Gore and George W. Bush, both of them briefed to the point of incoherence, face off in their three debates. When it’s all over, observers agree that each man managed to clearly define himself as the owner of several dark suits. With the polls showing the race to be neck and neck, it becomes clear that the outcome will be determined by undecided voters who, to judge from their post-debate focus groups on network TV, have rock salt for brains. (“Dan, I’m concerned about health care, because I keep wandering into traffic.”)

  In consumer news, Kraft Foods reports that a genetically altered corn plant has escaped from its laboratories. A Kraft spokesperson warns that the plant should be considered “eared and dangerous.”

  In Florida, torrential rains bring widespread disaster, as thousands of homeowners are trapped by rising water, forcing state agricultural officials to drop bombs on their citrus trees from helicopters.

  In sports, New York City goes nuts over the first “subway” World Series in forty-three years, which is won in
convincing fashion by the New York Mets, who, behind the strong relief putting of Tiger Woods, destroy the overpaid Yankees and their obnoxiously arrogant fans. (If you disagree, write your own “Year in Review.”)

  And speaking of historic clashes, in…

  NOVEMBER

  …the U.S. presidential campaign finally stumbles to what everyone believes is the finish line as millions of Americans go to the polls and, in the sacrosanct privacy of the voting booth, exercise the most cherished right of this glorious democracy: the right to screw up their ballots. Hints of trouble surface early in Palm Beach County, where many voters, asked to sign the voter rolls, write their names on floors, walls, each other, etc.

  But the real confusion starts on election night, as the major news networks, relying on statistics provided by the Firestone Quality Control Division, first announce that Gore has won Florida; then that Gore has NOT won Florida; then that Bush has won Florida; then that Bush has NOT won Florida; then, briefly, that Florida has settled on the late William Howard Taft. As dawn breaks, confusion reigns; veteran CBS anchor lunatic Dan Rather sums up the situation for his viewers with the old country saying: “This race is like a goose trying to catch a mackerel with a pork chop in his vest pocket and a frying pan on his UHHHHH.”

  At this point, Rather is, mercifully, felled by a tranquilizer dart, but the rest of the nation is left in a state of confusion regarding the election outcome. Fortunately, this is America and not some unstable Third World nation, so within a matter of hours the confusion is transformed into much, much deeper confusion. The skies darken over Florida as hundreds of thousands of lawyers parachute into the state from bombers supplied by the Bush and Gore campaigns; most have filed lawsuits before they hit the ground.

  Soon it is impossible to turn on any TV channel, including the Home Shopping Network, without seeing an expert (defined as “a person wearing makeup”) explaining the incredible cosmic complexities of “chads,” which are tiny squares of cardboard that contain, hidden somewhere deep in their molecular structure, the intents of voters.

  The state is engulfed in court battles, such as the case in Chalupa County, where an election worker fed his Pop-Tart into the ballot-counting machine. The machine registered this as a vote for Pat Buchanan, but Democratic lawyers make a strong case that it clearly intended to vote for Al Gore. Gore himself begins holding hourly round-the-clock press conferences to declare that “in America, every vote must be counted, whether it is a vote for me, or a vote that, if you hold it up to the light and stare at it long enough with very little sleep, appears that it might be for me.”

  Meanwhile, lawyers for the Bush campaign pull every legal string to prevent any change in the final Florida count, which shows Bush ahead by two votes, both cast by Mr. Waldo Hamperthumper, who lives abroad and whose absentee ballot is postmarked July 3, 1947. Helping the Bush cause is Florida secretary of state Katherine Harris, a Republican, who—in a move that Democrats charge is beyond her legal powers—certifies that Bush has won not only in Florida, but also Ohio, California, and Michigan. While all this is going on, Dick Cheney suffers his forty-third heart attack, but quickly declares through his oxygen tube that he is “feeling fine” and is “ready to resume consulting with Gov. Bush about what he thinks.”

  The wild uncertainty of the presidential election overshadows some big political news at the state level, most notably the U.S. Senate races in Missouri, which elects a dead person (Orson Welles), and New York, which elects Hillary Clinton, who, in her first official act, hires Brad Pitt as an intern.

  In nonelection news:

  Israeli and Palestinian leaders agree to end the violence, then cement the pact by punching each other in the mouth.

  President Clinton visits Vietnam to see if he can create a legacy of healing, but the Vietnamese are too busy setting up McDonald’s franchises.

  Kraft Foods reports that the genetically altered corn plant has turned up in Nebraska, where it has taken over an entire farm, barricading itself inside a silo protected by a cadre of vicious and extremely loyal soybeans. The corn plant has issued a series of demands, among them that it be addressed as “Colonel.”

  France is overrun by mad cow disease when the French army, sent to stop an incoming shipment of hamburger, instead surrenders to it.

  But the really big story remains the presidential election, with tension building to a massive, headache-inducing climax in…

  DECEMBER

  …a month packed with so much historic courtroom drama that exhausted TV legal experts start dropping like flies, only to have new experts shove their bodies aside and resume analyzing in midsentence (“…and so, Bill, depending on how the judge rules here, we could have a situation where the person next in line for the presidency is Alexander Haig”). Every few minutes, around the clock, some court issues a historic ruling overturning a historic ruling issued only moments earlier by some other court. It quickly becomes impossible for anybody to keep track of the situation, as evidenced by an alarming incident involving a sleep-deprived judge in Gazomba County who, after hearing a ballot-tampering case, issues a sloppily worded ruling in which he accidentally sentences himself to death. He is pardoned by Florida governor Jeb Bush, a move that is immediately challenged by Democratic lawyers, who argue that Bush clearly intended to pardon Al Gore.

  In another memorable legal event, a truck travels from Miami to Tallahassee carrying a cargo of eight hundred thousand tightly packed Miami-Dade County voters, every single one of whom testifies before Judge Sanders Sauls, who subsequently rules that his name can be rearranged to spell UNDRESS A LASS.

  As the month wears on, the Gore legal team suffers a series of setbacks, both in terms of court verdicts and hair days, but the vice president remains upbeat and confident, according to sources within his inner circle of strategists, which has shrunk to Gore and an imaginary kangaroo named “Mr. Woodles.” Gore insists that he “will not prolong the election unnecessarily”; he makes this statement at the formal dedication of the new fifty-story Tallahassee headquarters of the Al Gore Florida 2000 Election Lawsuit Institute.

  Meanwhile, George W. Bush remains on his ranch, looking as presidential as he knows how. The ranch does not appear to have any plant or animal life; it’s just a ranch where top Republicans sit around wearing ranch-style outfits and advising Bush on how to, as the governor puts it, “have a smooth transmission.” His first big job is to select his cabinet, which, according to a spokesperson, will be “very diverse, including Americans from every segment of the oil industry.” Bush is also briefed by foreign-policy experts, who show the governor a globe, then spend several hours explaining to him why the countries on the bottom don’t fall off.

  In vice-presidential candidate action, Joe Lieberman, wearing a fake beard, tiptoes back to his senate office. Dick Cheney is diagnosed with citrus canker.

  As the deadline looms for picking state electors for the Electoral College, the Florida legislature meets in a controversial emergency session, where the Republican majority, in a move that Democrats charge is unconstitutional, votes to impeach Bill Clinton.

  Finally, with all other legal options exhausted, the presidential election mess lands in the lap of the U.S. Supreme Court. After several minutes of deliberation, the court issues a unanimous ruling—hailed by legal scholars as well as the public—that Florida must be given back to Spain.

  Spain immediately files an appeal.

  And so the year staggers to its conclusion with the nation mired in a toxic swamp of public cynicism and corrosive partisan bitterness that could eat away the foundation of our democracy. And yet, even as earthbound humans wallow in petty squabbles over chads, something wonderful and hopeful is happening in the heavens: the crew of the space shuttle Endeavour, piloted by Tiger Woods, completes a major phase in the construction of the international space station—a place where, one day, scientists from around the world will work in harmony for the betterment of mankind.

  Hours later, the station
is shot down during a test of the U.S. missile defense system.

  Happy New Year.

  2001

  I didn’t write a “Year in Review” for 2001. I would have had to write it only a few weeks after 9/11, and at the time it didn’t feel right to make jokes about the rest of the year and then either ignore the attacks or suddenly become serious. So I took that year off, although I have no doubt that many stupid things happened.

  Speaking of stupid, let’s move on to 2002…

  2002

  AMERICA JUST WANTS TO FOCUS ON ITS SALAD

  If you had to pick one word to describe our national mood in 2002, that word would be “wary.” We went to sleep wary and we woke up wary. We wallowed in wariness. We were wabbits.

  This was partly because bad things kept happening. But it was also because government officials kept issuing alarming, yet vague, warnings. “We have received reliable information,” an official would say, “that something bad might happen. We don’t know what, or when, or where. But it is very, very bad. Also we are seeing the letter E. So we urge all citizens to continue leading normal lives, while remaining in a state of stark, butt-puckering terror. Tune in tomorrow and we’ll see if we can’t ratchet this thing up a notch or two.”

  We were also wary of the stock market. One day it was up, the next day it was down, the next day after that it was way down. And as we watched our 401(k) plans decline from a retirement villa in France to a refrigerator carton in an alley, we heard the unceasing babble of the financial “experts,” the ones who have never yet failed to be wrong, speculating endlessly on whether the market had bottomed out: