Fare thee well to the Nameless Decade
Homer: “C’mon, where’s your freak bus
Seth: “I drive a Saturn”
Homer: “A Saturn?”
Munchie: “We used to have a bus. In a way, the sixties ended the day we sold it–December 31, 1969.”
–The Simpsons, AABF02, “Doh-in’ in the Wind”
I know, I know, the decade isn’t officially over. We all heard it at the “not quite” end of the last decade, century and millenium. There was no year zero, A.D. versus B.C., blah blah blah. But let’s face it–a year of 365 days (366 every four years, unless it can be divided by one hundred, unless it…..uh….whatever) beginning on Janurary 1st and ending on December 31st is a Western Convention, one subscribed to by many people. Psychologically that one change in the third digit means a great deal to a good number of people. And so we have a year end flurry of best of/worst of/most important, and every ten years that turns into an orgy as the world’s scribes attempt to give the past ten years some sort of definition that society at-large can agree on.
For a little bit there in early December it seemed as if the media was going to let this one slide. Then Time had to wade into the mess and dub the Oughties, Zeros, double os, whatever “The Decade from Hell.” Perhaps this was a foregone conclusion from the minute the clock struck midnight on Janurary 1st, 2000 and nothing happened, minus an accidental nuclear alert in Japan and a few slot machines going down in Delaware. Total buzzkill after all the lead up to the end of the world. And so wordsmiths were left struggling to dub the decade long hangover. So far, our best lingusitic minds have yet to agree on a standard.


















