Doomsday Dress Rehearsal

This issue marks the one year anniversary of the Boneman. 1998 was an easy year to poke fun at, and before I start in on 1999, I wanted to thank every one who was kind enough to let me know that I made them laugh this past year. Believe me, laughter is all I'm after and if anything I've written struck you as important or profound it was a fluke. I'm basically just writing down jokes and until I run out of them, I guess I'll keep doing this. Trying to be funny on a bi-weekly basis is kind of a scary job, but seldom does a day pass that I don't thank my lucky stars for being able to make a respectable living by laying in bed at night thinking up jokes.

In order to do this I'm often forced to come off as sarcastic and opinionated. Quite honestly I'm not all that opinionated, and alot of times my opinion is largely dictated by which side of the issue tends to yield the most jokes. The best example of this has been Bill Clinton. I'm not all that appalled by his behavior--it's not like the Clintons are the Cleavers--I suppose Bill's every bit as much a "free agent" as Lafonzo Ellis. But if he does get off the hook it's certainly going to send an interesting message about the wholly institution of marriage. "You see son, it's okay to commit adultery as long as the economy is strong." If I have any other real opinion, it's that I don't believe that Clinton's stellar performance in office is anything other than fortunate timing. It'd be interesting to see what his approval ratings would look like if this whole embarrassing deal would've coincided with harder times--say the energy crunch of 77? If Jimmy Carter would've been caught with his inappropriate hand in the Monica's cookie jar, while people were waiting in line five hours for gas, they would've lynched his happy ass in the rose garden before you could say inflation. When there's alot of money floating around it's easier to buy things, and we certainly have bought into this Clinton character.

I supposed in general I fall somewhere on the liberal side of the ledger, which makes it all the more disturbing when I find myself agreeing with Orrin Hatch. You watch these impeachment hearings and it gets to the point that you really have no idea what the right opinion is. My advice--change the channel. The X-Files is easier to figure out. In the grand scheme of things none of this is going to amount to squat, anyway.

The important things are your family and friends, your health, your job and treating the people in your life with respect and kindness--you can roll all the rest of it up in a fine cuban cigar and smoke it as far as I'm concerned. Screw the NBA, screw the Starr Report, it's all screwed up anyway. The best you can do is to try and stay happy, and maybe straighten up the house and get some laundry done.

Now on to 1999. Thank goodness for this Y2K scare, huh? I'd almost forgotten that the world was about to end. When computers first came along it all seemed like a harmless deal. Let them do the hard math and keep track of the tedious stuff and we'll be free to pursue, I don't know, something less tedious. But those computers, you give them a byte and they want the whole cookie--now they're running the world. How would you like to be an Encyclopedia salesman, now that we have the internet? Now we come to find out that all these computers are going to make getting into the next century about as easy as getting a good haircut from Ray Charles. As absurd as it certainly seems, when computers have to do the math from 99 to 00, alot of them aren't going to know their RAM from a mountain goat. Which might not seem like such a big deal until your social security checks stop showing up. It's very possible that your vital information is going to be frozen if not lost, and in the blink of an eye all of our trusty computers aren't going to know you from Adam Sandler.

Interestingly, one of the countries most notable experts on this impending crisis is a gentlemen from New Harmony, Utah by the name of Jim Lord. Though he's been labeled a fanatical doomsday crackpot by Time magazine, a growing number of respected experts agree with him. And as the fateful hour draws nearer, it's becoming more and more difficult for the "powers that be" to deny that at least some part of the big boat is going to hit the iceberg. Worst case scenario is that come January 1, we might just find ourselves without power and telephone service, which could leave millions without heat, food, water, medicine and access to their money and, God forbid, cable. Fortunately it would all take place in the dead of winter. It's not surprising that us clever humans have programmed our own doom--in fact it seems rather poetic that all of this technology should come back to giga-byte us in the ass. And it's not like we haven't seen it coming--we all saw Wargames. If it weren't for Matthew Broderick and Ally Sheedy we'd already be ashes.

Here's the rub. It's possible to teach the old dog-computers how to handle the new trick, but for some reason it didn't occur to enough people in time for us to steer clear of the big ice. Hello . . . ship ahoy . . . According to alot of people in the know, the chances that the federal government is even going to come close to fixing the problem in time, are about as good as finding Marilyn Manson at the MTC. So if you're livelihood is in any way dependent upon the Federal government, you might want to stash at least 2K in the mattress. Lord sums up the problem with this frightening analogy. "If someone presented you with a bushel of marbles and told you that you had to polish each one of them by the end of the day, it'd be a tough task but you could probably do it. Now imagine if the Grand Canyon were filled with marbles." I understand his point, but if I were him and Time magazine was trying to discredit me as some kind of senile old fart, I'm pretty sure I'd think-up an analogy that didn't involve marbles.

In any event, Lord's message is simple--be prepared. Stock up on food, water, medicine, get yourself a generator and some spending cash, just in case. Ynot? If the world doesn't come to an end, it's not like it's the end of the world. You'll still have all your supplies and you'll be ready for the next really scary thing that's sure to come along. Time alone will tell if Y2K will be a major crisis or merely a brief glitch, but Mormon leaders have exhorted members to put away a two-year supply ever since I was in Sunday School. What more do you need? You've got the living Prophet and some guy named "Lord" telling you to load up on canned goods, I don't know about you, but the Boneman's got some peaches to buy.

They also point to the benefits of community awareness Y2K will bring about. For example, if worse does come to shove, you're going to be glad you talked to your neighbor about it, just so when you go next door to borrow a cup of wheat, he doesn't shoot you. I guess it really boils down to who you trust. The Government? Now there's a trustworthy outfit. Or this character from New Harmony? The Government wants us to believe that everything's just fine, no need to panic and take all your money out of the bank. That would be bad. Forget about that wacko out in Utah, that fuddled old fool's a few fries short of a "happy meal." Or do you trust Jim Lord? He doesn't want you to panic, he just wants you to take out enough money to buy his book and load up on provisions. Personally I'm with Lord Jim.

Speaking of panic, I started reading back through this article, clear back to the part where I was talking about how funny I am, and by the time I got the the end I realized none of this was all that funny. This is probably the least funny one yet, I've got to go back and funny this up somehow, I was thinking . . . and just then my computer crashed and all the power went out . . . it was almost like I was dreaming. When I finally found a flashlight I was surprised to see that there was confetti and streamers all over the place. And it was like it wasn't even my house. "Is it New Years already?" I realized I'd better check the pantry and "thank the Lord" my cupboards were lined with cans of peaches. But then I noticed I was naked. Did I forget to stock up on clothes? Damn! Plus now I'm way late for school. So I grab a can of peaches to cover up my privates and dash off to school--but for some reason I'm running really . . . really . . . slowwww . . . and when I finally make it there, I sneak into class and take my seat. Right away I notice that all my classmates are wearing their Sunday best, and smoking huge cigars. Except the tall husky guy sitting next to me who's spraying scotchgard on the tiny little dress he's wearing. Just as I realize that it's William Jefferson Clinton, he seizes my precious can of peaches and throws it out the window--leaving me utterly exposed. Should I go on? "But Mr. President, why?" I protest. "Embarrassing ain't it kid," he whispered, then laughed diabolically. "Now you really know what it's like to be impeached."
I know . . . I feel your pain.