I mean, totally blew, as the kids say, which is the same as sucked in the same way people use flammable and inflammable. On a related note, 2021 was both flammable and inflammable.
And yes, it was worse than 2020. At least it was to me, starting with my brother’s death and ending with my wife in physical therapy. The physical therapist people are very nice, by the way, but I’d rather meet them in a social situation.
Not that anyone was allowed to be in social situations.
One of the reasons 2021 was so bad is because everybody thought it would be so good. “I can’t wait for 2021! It has to be better than this.”
The first time I heard that, sometime around the summer of 2020, I knew we were in trouble. Very few of the things that started then are the kind of problems that disappear when the ball drops. Pandemics, inflation, shortages–read your history, people. At that point I started lecturing everyone to watch out! 2020 was the second Matrix movie, and 2021 would be the third one.
(For those of you who aren’t aware, they sucked. And blew.)
|Even John Williams can’t perk up this story line.
I’m a fan of being upbeat, but you have to be a realist, too. The way people thought in 2020 reminded me of what happens on my job whenever someone says “It’s quiet” or, while escaping at the end of their shift, “Have a quiet night!” It’s the equivalent of that old Chinese curse, “May you live in interesting times”.
Saying the word “quiet” in a 911 center is the verbal equivalent of pulling the pin on a grenade and rolling it into the room. So all of you, keep your gosh-darn mouths shut.
You know, I didn’t even get a new book published that year, for the first time since 2011. That’s a small thing compared to everything else going on, but it’s a symptom of what I’m going to call “Two Thousand Sucky-One”, because I can, and it was. By the way, as I write this it’s still 2021, and I have another sinus infection.
Yes, it IS related.
“2022 has to be better, right?”
“Yeah, it’ll be quiet.” *pulls pin* “Fire in the hole!”
No. No, it doesn’t have to be better. Could it be worse? Yes, yes it could. I can picture the old man representing 2021, stumbling toward the exit, broken, bleeding, covered in boils, only to meet the infant 2022 coming in. 2022 takes one look, fills his diapers, and says, “Um, maybe I should go back and gestate for a few more months.”
“Forget it, kid. I’m outta here.”
I’ll bet the dinosaurs were fighting a pandemic the year before the asteroid struck. And do you know what survived that extinction event? That’s right: the virus.
The murder hornet is still out there. Politicians are proof snakes are mammals, because they’re still blowing hot air. All the Kardashians are still alive. But maybe they’re all distractions. What’s next? Super Volcano in Yellowstone? Earthquake off Washington State? Another election? And that’s just this country.
So Happy New Year, and fingers crossed. Fuel your generators, stock up on water and masks, and barricade your doors because, the way things are going, door to door salesmen will come back into vogue.
Which would suck … and blow.
|“Jeez, you’re a buzz kill.”