Volume 93, Issue 35

Tuesday, November 2, 1999


Column shows ignorance and cowardice

Year 2000 doesn't meet Jetsons' expectations

Year 2000 doesn't meet Jetsons' expectations

The year 2000 is only three months away and I'm wondering what the hell happened? Where are the flying cars? Why don't antennas have those rings around them like so many Jetsons cartoons predicted?

We don't have floating cities, two-way picture phone wrist watches, or talking dogs. Hell, I don't even have one piece of silvery, futuristic clothing. I was gypped.

As a boy, the year 2000 held so many wonderful possibilities. The future was bright and filled with space-age gadgets which could make any task easy. We were even supposed to have our own slave class of worker robots to do all the crappy stuff so we wouldn't have to.

Now that I'm older, I realize the present doesn't have any of that. Cars still use gasoline, they still operate on the ground and they don't have wise-cracking robot drivers to whisk us away on many hilarious adventures.

In fact, there's nothing hilarious at all about the year 2000. Doomsayers everywhere are predicting the dreaded "Y2K" bug will make our mechanized slaves rise up in some kind of communist revolution of belligerent appliances. What kind of happy Jetsons forecast is that?

It doesn't even sound futuristic. "Y2K" sounds like half a postal code or something. Oh well, at least it's easier to type.

Which brings me to my next point – the future was supposed to be a haven for lazy people. By now, we were supposed to be eating meals in pill form. I mean come on, I still have to chew my own food!

Also in the future I would expect my household to have at least one more body – that of a wise-cracking robot maid. But no, instead I have to do my own housework and come up with my own friggin' wise-cracks. And where, might I ask, are my robot friends?

I tried building one once in the Skywalker tradition, but I failed miserably. I lacked the futuristic materials that the year 2000 promised. Apparently, styrofoam and glue are not proper conduits for electricity.

If I had a robot, it could help me with all my futuristic endeavours (such as my moon mission). In the future, going to the moon was supposed to be like driving to the next city. But no one has spaceships. Where's my freakin' spaceship?

The next time you watch George Jetson putt around in his flying car with his talking dog and robotic maid, laughing at your primitive lifestyle from his space age, splendor-filled existence, remember what I said. Then kick in your television.

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Copyright The Gazette 1999