Number 9, number 9, number 9

Too bad you won't be able to read this. I'm sure it's one of my better columns, maybe the best I've ever written. Unfortunately, it won't be posted until a few minutes before September 9, 1999, better known as the day of the 9/9/99 computer bug. At the moment, I'm already in mourning. All my friends in New Zealand and Australia are likely dead by now.

Yes, it's dress rehearsal for the real thing, the highly-touted Y2K bug. Okay, maybe just tech rehearsal, but believe me, I'm ready. Do I have barrels of water collected in my garage? No. Do I have stores of canned foodstuffs on my shelves? No. Do I have rolls and rolls of toilet paper? Yes, but I always stock up on that anyway.

It's not my fault. I meant to get all my Y2K survival supplies, I really did. I even took a long drive in heavy traffic to a Sam's Club, but when I got there I discovered I'd forgotten my shopping list. Worse yet, the shopping lines snaked all the way to the computer supplies section, not a skinny person in sight. So I figured, fuck it, and went next store to buy a gun. It's a nice Colt .45, the American Express card for the new millennium.

I'll stock up on supplies later. The neighbors look like they've been pretty diligent.

Truth is, I don't really think this trial millennium bug or the Big Bug offered in the year 2000 is going to amount to much. I think the whole thing's been overblown, overrated, exaggerated and redundant. The only people I can find who are convinced Y2K will be the greatest disaster movie of our time fall into four categories:

1) Those who have had an anal probe on an alien space ship.

2) Those who have seen the black helicopters.

3) Both of the above.

4) And those who stand to make lots of money by convincing people the Y2K bug is for real. (Sam Walton's greedy relatives top that list.)

But that's me, Mr. Skeptic. I could be all wrong, who knows? Twenty-five years from now, I might find myself collared and herded by a gay chimpanzee. But I doubt it. Why? Two reasons:

1) Everything in my life has yet to live up to expectations. The Russian Evil Empire collapsed, the impenetrable Berlin Wall fell, the Viet Nam War turned out to be just a conflict, the Gulf War amounted to nothing more than two months of American Whupass and we're not even going to fuckin' count Granada, are we?

2) I think I read somewhere that chimpanzees are bisexual.

Still, me being me and all, I did manage to find some irony in this 9/9/99 hype. As I write, some poor sap is telling his wife, "This 9/9/99 bug scare is all a bunch of horseshit. Nothing's gonna happen, believe me. Maybe a minor glitch here, a minor glitch there. But trust me, Edna, we'll have water, we'll have food and we'll have our same dull, senseless lives as usual."

The next day, after he drops dead from a heart attack, Edna will tell his ashen corpse, "I told you today would be a bad day. I told you. But you wouldn't listen to me, would you. Noooooooooo, who listens to me."

That cracks me up. Of course, the ultimate irony would be if I dropped dead tomorrow.

(Note: Don't worry. I'm writing two columns tonight, just in case. I always try to learn from my mistakes. This week, I'm writing column number 69 and yet I've only made one reference to oral sex: blow me. I promise never to let an opportunity like this slip by me again, so should I indeed drop dead tomorrow, my girlfriend's been instructed to publish next week's column, tentatively titled: "Stupid Dead Man Writing.")

Finally, there's one more reason I don't believe the 9/9/99 computer bug's worth worrying about. I talked to several computer programmers, and I can assure you that*%##@%&&*.......9999999999999999999999999

STANDARD DISCLAIMER: This column aims to be funny. If you can read anything else into it, you're on your own. Copyright 1999 by Mike Jasper.