A Nameless Blog

Hello one and all, and welcome to my first post of Twenty-aught-six.  I start every year just how I start every time I am suddenly and aggressively ass-raped: by looking back.  Enjoy my account of everything that didn’t happen in 2005.
——————

JANUARY:  The year began with the re-inauguration of President George W. Bush.  Despite his recent electoral victory and apparent mandate, President Bush was visibly cranky for the duration of the festivities.  When asked why he was so upset, the president frowned, “Last inauguration, they gave me cake.”

Iraq has its first free parliamentary elections in its history.  The historic day was marred, however, by a mysterious virus that turned all voters’ fingers a dark purple.  The anti-Bush crowd expectedly uses this unforeseen event to accuse the president of not being adequately prepared for the potentially deadly consequences of a purple-finger outbreak.

The most surprising aspect of the first free Iraqi election was the result: somehow, every parliamentary race resulted in one hundred percent of the vote going to Saddam Hussein.  And we thought the last few elections were rigged.  Oh well.

Talk show pioneer and world-class comedian Johnny Carson dies.  Every talk show has at least one tribute show, all of which were funny and tasteful.  The best of them all, however, was Montel Williams’s tribute, in which he described a time when Carson smiled at him during the daytime Emmy awards.

FEBRUARY:  Continuing their string of February Super Bowl victories, the New England Patriots defeat the Philadelphia Eagles to win their third championship in four years.  The Eagles would have won the game, but Terrell Owens’s contract wasn’t large enough to put them over the hump.

In a classic older-brother move, North Korea sees the attention Iraq is getting from the US and announces that they have nuclear weapons.  In response, President Bush calls Kim Jong-Il on the phone and tells his “Kimmy-Dimmy” that he still remembers “The Bad Korea” and that he only missed their last piano recital because he was “really busy”.  He concluded, “You know how much Britain and I love and fear you, right Kimmy?”

The most tragic news for Canada came in February, when the NHL officially cancelled its season.  Consequently, sportswriters immediately earn three extra vacation days that would have been spent trying to spell Eastern European names.

MARCH:  The Supreme Court holds that subjecting minors to the death penalty is unconstitutional.  The Supremes’ wisdom comes into question, however, when the nation’s Indian-burn levels spike dramatically.

Terri Schiavo’s feeding tube is removed and cable news networks cover her story like she’s Chandra Levy.  Doctors were surprised at how long Schiavo survived without her feeding tube, but were downright shit-canned when she sang the obscure second verse to the Star Spangled Banner right before she died.

Ten thousand pounds of feces collected from an Oklahoma kennel are swept into a tornado and covers the entire town of Norman in dogshit.  Residents keep a chipper attitude cleaning up, for they rationalize, “At least we’re not guests on Maury Povich.”

APRIL:  Pope John Paul II dies at the age of 207.  Hundreds of thousands flock to the Vatican to mourn his death, but since it had been so long since he actually did anything, nobody can remember any anecdotes to put in his eulogy.

Following the death of John Paul II, the Vatican elects a new pope, Cardinal John Ratzinger, who christens himself Benedict XVI.  While some Catholics would have preferred a younger, more progressive choice than Ratzinger, they all are forced to admit that, among all candidates, Ratzinger looked the most boy-friendly in his vestments.

Prince Charles marries longtime girlfriend Camilla Parker Bowles.  Brits joke about the bride’s looks only to distract them from the fact that they still have useless, inbred figureheads dominating their attention and stealing their money.

MAY:  The sixth Star Wars movie is released.  Or should I call it the third?  Or maybe the seventh?  Does that animated series about the Ewoks count?  I once read this fan fiction piece where Amidala totally made out with a dude named Spence from Jersey.  Does that count?  Seriously, I don’t know — somebody should subtitle and overanalyze these episodes so I can get them straight.

Montana resident Greg Natchid earns international recognition when he becomes the first man to spit a watermelon seed onto the moon.  It is unknown whether the seed will grow into a healthy watermelon patch or a sick, mutated moon-melon with six arms and five breasts.

Bob Woodward’s Watergate source, known commonly as Deep Throat, is revealed to be Mark Felt.  He joins Berkeley Breathed and Tom Waits as the most famous people whose names also act as complete sentences.

JUNE:  Following his lengthy trial, Michael Jackson is acquitted of all charges of molestation, predatory behavior, and racketeering.  In a post-trial press conference, Jackson thanks his fans for their support, adding that his are “the scariest and weirdest fans on Earth.”  KISS, ABBA, and the Oakland Raiders all immediately demand an apology for Jackson’s alleged misstatement.

The internationally comprised, yet relatively obscure San Antonio Spurs defeat the Detroit Pistons to win the NBA title.  Upon being doused with beer by teammate Tim Duncan, forward Manu Ginobili instinctively falls to the ground at the slightest contact.  The flop allows him to successfully sue Duncan for battery in Texas civil court.

It is reported that deadlier strains of avian flu (AKA “bird flu”) are developing and may spread to humans.  In response, China kills and burns one billion chickens, while American misinterpret the news and stay away from KFC for a week.

JULY:  Founded by Bob Geldof, the Live 8 concert proves to be the most ambitious charitable concert in history, with historic rock reunions and locations around the globe.  Most disappointed among attendees were those to the Topeka show, which featured two members of Kansas playing classics with REO Speedwagon and Dokken.

The Live 8 concert’s aim to “Make Poverty History” is fulfilled after the final show closes.  As a thank-you gift, every concert attendee is given a big-screen TV from the people of Kenya.

The city of London is rocked by multiple bus bombings.  Considering that London had just been announced as hosts of the 2012 Olympics, chief immediate suspects in the bombings are members of the French IOC, failed Arab pole-vaulters, and Tonya Harding.

The sixth Harry Potter book, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, is released.  Upon reading the book’s emotional ending, blogger Darrell Johnson’s eyes well up and his testicles permanently recede one full inch.

In presumably his final race, Lance Armstrong wins his eighth consecutive Tour de France.  He follows it up by announcing that he plans to marry pop singer Sheryl Crow.  Fans the world over start to wonder how much the man can endure before he finally breaks.

AUGUST:  An already harsh hurricane season is given its most dramatic blow when Hurricane Katrina ravages much of the Gulf Coast and destroys a large part of one of America’s favorite cities.  Thankfully, no famous people were killed.

Upon hearing of the destruction in Katrina’s wake, FEMA director Michael Brown orders extra dressing on his endive salad, then takes a power nap after lunch.

President Bush responds to the Katrina disaster by saying that he didn’t try to conclude his five-week vacation and that “Brownie” was doing “a heck of a job”.  He then told the press that the sun is made of gold and that Cheaper by the Dozen didn’t suck ass.

Crew members of the Space Shuttle Discovery land safely after several delays and some repairs that the media couldn’t resist but calling “MacGyver-esque”.  However, true MacGyver fans noted that the astronaut responsible for the repairs is not as skilled as the real MacGyver because if he had been, a stocky bald guy would have immediately shaken his head in disbelief while cheesy music played in the background.  (And the astronaut would have had a mullet.)

SEPTEMBER:  England wins the Ashes.  Yep — I just mentioned cricket.  Suck on that.

The hurricane season rages on with Rita, Alpha, Omicron, and Shemp.  To help the environment, blogger Darrell Johnson recycles a joke from last year.

Congressman Tom DeLay is indicted for money laundering, giving the world a chance to see the happiest mug shot in history, narrowly beating seventeen of Henry Earl’s best.

Following the death of Chief Justice William Rehnquist, Judge John Roberts is nominated to the highest court.  During his confirmation hearings, Roberts’s judgment was called into serious question when it was revealed that while a clerk for a district court judge, Roberts wrote memos indicating his preference for Hydrox cookies over Oreos.

OCTOBER:  The trial of Saddam Hussein begins.  Within weeks, three of his lawyers are found murdered.  To Hussein’s credit, he was responsible for only two of the murders.

The Chicago White Sox win the World Series despite not being on either coast, not having an instantly recognizable star, and having no team members who have been fellated by Joe Buck.

NBA commissioner David Stern announces a strict, league-wide dress code for all players and personnel.  All stipulations are deemed reasonable except for the mandatory nipple clamps to be worn under the clothes.

To fill yet another vacancy, President Bush nominates longtime friend and former Texas lottery commissioner Harriet Miers to the Supreme Court.  Miers becomes the third female Supreme Court nominee in history, as well as the first never to have demonstrated applied thought to the US Constitution.  Other records set by Miers include: most exclamation points used by a nominee, the first nominee to be completely in love with her appointer, and the nominee with the most striking resemblance to a house-elf.

NOVEMBER:  To prove how much friendlier they are to other cultures than the US, France allows Arabs to set most of Paris on fire.

The Edmonton Eskimoes defeat the Montreal Alouettes to win the Grey Cup.  That’s right, I’m awesomely international — first cricket, now Canadian football.

Despite their preventative efforts, the much-hyped bird flu finally outbreaks, killing the entire nation of China.  Tibet, now free, builds an army and takes control of Taiwan.

DECEMBER:  The Pentagon admits to planting stories in the Iraqi media to portray US involvement in a better light.  The move is made all the more curious by the fact that the Pentagon admitted to it with apparently no pressure.

Shock-jock Howard Stern has his last show on terrestrial radio.  Stern combines the slapstick humor of Fibber McGee and Molly with the wryness of Jack Benny in his final bit, “Which Stripper’s Anus Smells the Least Like Corn Chips?”

The New York City transit workers go on strike.  Somehow, this is nationwide news.

Tookie Williams, a multiple murderer and co-founder of the Crips, is put to death in California in the face of some very public celebrity pleas for clemency to Governor Schwarzenegger.  Schwarzenegger’s reasons for denial are unknown, but he was seen in Sacramento with a red bandana getting a teardrop tatooed on his left cheek.
—————–

There you have it.  Here’s hoping years that end in six are better.

-Darrell

This entry was posted on Wednesday, January 4th, 2006 at 3:11 am. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.