2004: Year in Review
January 3rd, 2005For the first time in over nine years, the date ends with a five. 2004, I hardly knew ye.
There must be a virus spreading across the landscape, because I, too, have the urge to write a retrospective for the previous year. But instead of some instant nostalgia or a breakdown of the best in pop culture, I’m going with something different. What follows is what would have been the most important happenings in 2004, had they actually happened:
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JANUARY: Our first month sees the formal beginning of Presidential primary season with the Iowa caucuses (to which Rush Limbaugh always refers as, “The Hawkeye Cauci”. Kinda funny the first time; not so much the eighty-seventh, Rush). As expected, Howard Dean wins the caucuses in a landslide, but quickly drops out of the race after accidentally eating a baby that was handed to him in a photo-op. “He was supposed to kiss the baby,” said his embarrassed campaign manager.
After the furor, the apparent leaders are Joe Lieberman and Richard Gephardt, but after it is revealed that during sessions of Congress, both routinely managed to bore other congressmen, war hero John Kerry takes a commanding lead (due in part to his self-deprecating “I look like a horse” routine that took him to the semis in Last Comic Standing).
In culture news, the conclusion of the Lord of the Rings trilogy sweeps across the globe, spawning another round of Lord of the G-Strings softcore knockoffs. Quicker, more interesting, and with more tits, the Lord of the G-Strings series proves to be even more popular than the original. Dildo Saggins fans rejoice.
FEBRUARY: Due to stupid scheduling (and not a terrorist attack, sadly), the Super Bowl is played in early February. The Patriots defeat the Panthers in an exciting game, and the halftime show was an entertaining (if uneventful) performance by the Grambling University marching band. Nothing else happened in Jacksonville all year.
In a huge victory for anti-federalist conservatives, the city of San Francisco allows same-sex marriages. Federalist liberals gnash their teeth and demonstrate for the creation of federal marriage definitions. “We don’t care who marries whom,” says a made-up spokesperson, “just as long as it’s uniform throughout the United States. ‘Cause we’re united. And we’re like, a country or something.”
MARCH: Kobe Bryant’s trial begins in Colorado. For those who have forgotten, Bryant was accused of the murder and rape (in that order) of his Haitian limo driver. By the end of the month, the charges are dropped for lack of video evidence.
Exactly 911 days after the 9/11 terrorist attacks, a Madrid train is bombed by Muslim numerologists, killing 191. The numerology connections are furthered by Osama bin Laden in a subsequent al-Jazeera video, where he notes that 191 and 911 are number anagrams, saying, “We wanted to kill 911 infidels on this day, but we did manage to play with the digits a bit. Praise be to Allah; death to America.”
In the same video, bin Laden makes a surprise endorsement of Carol Moseley Braun in the Democratic primaries. Evidently news travels slowly in the caves of Afghanistan, seeing how Moseley Braun had dropped out of the race two months previous.
APRIL: Earth Day is celebrated universally with fireworks and candy. This year’s celebration outdid all celebrations previous, much to the delight of greeting card manufacturers and electronics retailers. As usual, more flowers are bought on this day than any other.
Cyprus joins the EU, but is kicked out after other members realize that it’s not the country responsible for rap group Cypress Hill. Hip-hop enthusiast and British PM Tony Blair is devastated. Sources close to the Prime Minister report that “for at least a week,” sobbing could be heard from his closed office along with “Insane in the Brain” on repeat.
Donald Trump hires some guy named Bill on his reality television show. In a tense boardroom, Trump tells the runner up that should Trump find him dying of thirst in the desert, he would not even bother to spit on him.
Darrell goes to Boston to visit the Red Sox (and his friend Stephanie), where he sees the Sawks’ only loss in a four-game series against the Yankees. He tries to rub some of his Diamondbacks luck on the beleaguered franchise by eating a hot dog with a white-bread bun, buying a Fenway t-shirt, and pissing on two view-obstructing beams. The Red Sox go on to win their first World Series in 86 years, while the Diamondbacks triumphantly win 51 games.
MAY: Friends goes off the air. I still haven’t stopped crying.
Randy Johnson sets down twenty-seven Braves in order, making his the first perfect game in the National League since Dennis Martinez’s in 1991. As a result, catcher Robby Hammock is enshrined into the Hall of Baseball Trivia. Other inductees include Wally Pipp, Jay Bell, and Steve Trachsel.
The presidential election heats up with John Kerry as the apparent front-runner. President Bush says, “Ain’t that somethin’?” while Karl Rove deftly creates and indoctrinates countless independent political action committees and internet bloggers.
JUNE: In a huge upset, the Indianapolis 500 is won by David Letterman. It was an upset not because of Letterman’s age or apparent lack of professional driving experience, but because he won it driving a 1973 Ford Pinto whose only upgrade was an “Ass, gas or grass, no one rides for free” bumper sticker.
Greece wins the Euro 2004 soccer tournament. Canada’s version of SportsCenter reports on it every moment not devoted to hockey. Meanwhile, baseball fans north of the border jab themselves in the eye with sharp sticks.
Our fortieth president of the United States, Ronald Reagan, succumbs to Alzheimer’s disease at the age of ninety. His funeral procession is estimated to end some time in 2006.
Fahrenheit 9/11 opens in theatres nationwide. The nation’s spittle levels rise to an all-time high.
JULY: Our seventh month is a big one for non-major sports and competitions. An attractive girl wins Wimbledon and America’s list of whack-able women gets that much longer. Lance Armstrong wins his sixth Tour de France, marking the sixth consecutive year America pretends to care about cycling. Also, Bobby Fischer is detained in Tokyo for allegedly throwing his 1978 match with Joe Frazier.
An age-conscious United States celebrates its bicentennial for the twenty-ninth consecutive year. As the years go by, fewer countries appear to be fooled.
The Democratic National Convention goes off without a hitch. As a thank-you, DNC tote bags are sent to all six television viewers.
AUGUST: The Republican National Convention goes off without a hitch. As a thank-you, checks for $30,000 are sent to all nine television viewers. The difference in viewership is later said to be what decides the election.
The Summer Olympics kick off in Athens, disrupting all normal television schedules for over two weeks. Americans shift their pretend-to-care mode from cycling to swimming.
In related news, beach volleyball is suddenly popular. Well, watching beach volleyball is suddenly popular. Scratch that, again: watching women’s beach volleyball is suddenly popular.
Rick James dies at the age of 56. Cause of death is unknown, but all signs point to an excess of freakiness.
Florida’s yearly penance is harsher than normal, as four massive hurricanes (Frances, Charley, Ivan, and Shemp) hit the area in a short period of time. Damages are extensive, but the plus side is that it allows Dolphins fans to come up with another excuse for the season.
SEPTEMBER: In an apparent journalistic coup, Dan Rather reads documents that prove that while in the National Guard, George W. Bush was caught with his dick inside the fuel intake of an F-16. Sharp bloggers are quick to discredit the documents when they show that the damning photographs are actually a composite of Bush’s face, an F-16, and the penis of porn star Ron Jeremy. As a result of the gaffe, Rather commits hari-kiri on live television, answering the age-old question, “I wonder what Dan Rather’s intestines look like?”
Oprah Winfrey gives away a car to every member of her studio audience. Audience members for the following show are given gifts courtesy of Bath and Body Works. Winfrey is severely injured in a hail of bubble baths and loofahs.
Britney Spears gets married to long-time boyfriend and comedian Don Rickles. When asked how the honeymoon went, Spears replied, “How’dya think it went, ya hockey puck?”
OCTOBER: Another drunken father-son team breaks onto the field at Comiskey Park in an effort to attack the opposing team’s first base coach, only to realize that baseball season is over for the White Sox.
Sox of another color win the World Series in a four-game sweep of the Cardinals, which followed one of the greatest comebacks in sports history. In the ALCS, the Red Sox were down three games to none to the Yankees. In game four, they trailed 36-2 with two outs in the ninth, and half their lineup had been injured by stray bullets the night before. Led by a one-legged Curt Schilling and a badly bleeding Johnny Damon, the Red Sox score 35 runs in the final inning, giving them the game. They go on to win their next seven games in similar fashion.
On CNN’s Crossfire, Jon Stewart states the obvious: “Crossfire blows.” This is somehow controversial.
The very first “anti-blog” is launched by Darrell Johnson. He is the first person ever to start a blog with the ironic “I still hate blogs anyway” attitude. His wonderful prose is seen not unlike the parables of Christ: as words to entertain and to live by.
SpaceShipOne becomes the first privately funded, manned spacecraft. No one notices. The ship does it again. And then again. Still, no one notices. The U.S. military launches a full-scale attack on Fallujah. No one cares. Mount St. Helens erupts. No one outside of Washington state gives a damn. Ashlee Simpson lip-synchs on SNL. Everyone watches the Internet videos within days.
NOVEMBER: Yasser Arafat dies. Or not. False alarm.
Bill Clinton opens his presidential library in Little Rock. Clinton opponents get used to spelling the word “lie-brary” and comedians retell the joke that it’s the only presidential library with an adult section. The country momentarily collapses because it cannot stand such an abundance of cleverness.
Yasser Arafat’s whole body really dies this time. Seriously. His body is sent through the streets of Gaza, then through his boyhood home of Sheboygan, Wisconsin. The Nobel Peace Prize winner was buried in Sheboygan, a town whose population, ironically enough, is exactly one-tenth the number of people he has indirectly murdered.
People stay up all night to watch election returns, but get a better sense of things this time around. Mayor McCheese is reelected convincingly, thwarting the tax-happy Hamburglar and third-party candidate H. Ross Perot. “This is a great day for McDonaldland, robble robble,” said an unnamed source.
DECEMBER: Christmas is celebrated nationwide, except in Arizona and parts of Indiana.
New Zealander Steve Blandikoff becomes the first man to climb Mount Fuji while holding his breath. Many doubt the possibility of his achievement, but are quickly proven wrong by the ever-present nose plug. Many still allege that Blandikoff was breathing through his ears.
The Arizona football team defeats Baylor in the Toilet Bowl, a yearly matchup of BCS Conferences’ worst teams. The Porcelain Shrine will be prominently displayed at the McKale Center.
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That is everything that didn’t happen in 2004. Consider yourself forcibly nostalgiaized. Er… nostalgia-fied. Nostalgizzed.
-Darrell