Review of the Year: 2003
2003 has been a fantabulous year. The world has been ravaged by war, both on terror and tangible enemies: television entertainment has reached new highs, surpassing even Vietnam's televisual splendor. On top of this, John Ritter died.
We at Rum Towers have high hopes for the next year. America's nuclear weapons program has been reinvigorated, and it looks likely that President George W. Bush will be re-elected - we've set our Tivos to "kill" and we'll be glued to our boxes. But as we sip Jesus blood at Christmas and sup on flesh and oil, we must big up our Lord and Savior as we thank Him for all that has happened. Here is a brief run-down.
Having lasted out another year without the reappearance of Jesus Christ, the born again Christians pack up their bags and resume missionary work in poor countries. By the end of the year, 175,000 poverty-stricken villages swamped by disease and lacking basic necessities like clean water will have converted to the almighty power of the Lord. They are expected to take up arms and engage in a bloody revolution by September 2005. Meanwhile, Catholics everywhere prepare themselves for another year's arduous self loathing.
Elsewhere, the Internet quietly curls into a corner and implodes. Nobody notices until March, when it is reassembled and given a nice down comforter for those troublesome days.
For the first time since anyone can remember, the number of suicides actually decreases on Valentine's Day. Officials are confused until they realize everyone has died inside already.
The Bush administration renames everybody's post. The President of the United States has remained unchanged, but the Secretary of Defense has been relabeled That Neat Guy.
On February 15th, people from all over the world start marching against the impending war in Iraq. They are misguided and wrong; democracy at no point involves the people deciding on the actions made by their state. The British and U.S. governments underline this point by completely ignoring everybody and bombing a couple of random people in the desert "for shits and giggles". "They're only Arabs," Friendly Neighbor Paul Wolfowitz tells a press conference.
The Coalition of the Gallant launch their righteous crusade against all evil-doers. Said evil-doers are bombarded with weapons of mass destruction theoretically for refusing to give up their weapons of mass destruction. The world concedes that Americans do, after all, get irony.
Jesus returns for an afternoon, to do some shopping and see a preview of the new Matrix film. The Savior gives it a thumbs down, but notes that Jada Pinkett Smith is hot.
Existence points out that the flow of time subsequent to this point has been an illusion; time begins flowing normally from midday on April 1. In a rare two-gags-at-once play, existence also carefully places a bucket of water above the door to the bathroom.
The War Against Terrorists With Oil now firmly behind them, the Coalition of the Won seek to bring stability to the middle east. Dick Cheney has now not been seen for a number of months, and is feared dead by the 12% of Americans who remember he exists. 77% of Britons polled believe Jade from Big Brother is "well thick", although 68% would "bang her up easy like".
Cheney is finally discovered taking a bath in the Project for a New American Century headquarters. "I just felt dirty," he tells an audience at his stand up show the following night. "That and I needed to take the sausage dog for a walk by the pool, if you know what I mean. Go Bulls!"
The Twin Towers, which were previously assumed to be destroyed in the September 11th, 2001 attacks, briefly reappear. It transpires they were simply "cold" and retreated underground, where they started a giant underground worm colony. The eggs are due to hatch next April, causing the birth of seventeen new World Trade Centers. More or less an opposite action to 9-11, experts predict this will provoke the government into launching the War Against Love.
Avril Lavigne ceases basing her popular singing career on a progressive, genuinely feminist image, and begins to circulate scantily-clad pictures of herself all over the Internet. This is news to everywhere except the Netherlands, where the faux-punk wrongstress has been performing naked and covered in lard since the beginning.
The latest Hollywood craze is zen Buddhism. According to Jennifer Lopez: "my ass is chi-riffic!"
Despite rumors that July will be cancelled, the seventh month goes ahead as planned. Very little actually happens. Some places become hot; this is called "summer".
The world is rocked not by the numerous arts festivals, but by the Johnny Depp vehicle Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl. Named after a shit ride, the film makes jaundiced nerds wannabe sociopaths everywhere soil their little Jolly Roger pants. Everyone else watches it to see if Orlando Bloom and Keira Knightley get their funky ships together. They don't, although as with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles over a decade ago, there are rumors of a hardcore version.
The Prophet Mohammed is seen in Dimitri Martin's audience at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Jesus, meanwhile, comes back for another shopping trip and purchases a delightful Gucci handbag for his dad. "He's clearly gay as a rainbow kite," the Messiah tells Graham Norton, who replies by demonstrating a vibrator shaped like a big rubber tongue.
The world gathers together in ominous silence on the anniversary of the worst man-made tragedy of modern times. Pinky and the Brain's cancellation sent a cold ripple up the world's collective back, and for a whole month, we are not allowed to forget. A replacement is chosen for the collapsed cartoon series, although few believe that Ewoks 2000 will command the same awe or have the same emotional resonance.
Michael Jackson is in trouble with the law again. It transpires that his face is made of children, who are harvested by toxic wolves which drag their prey into an accursed tree somewhere in the dark forest. His newly released album, Number Ones, fittingly sells like piss.
Johnny Cash is stone dead, soon after the release of his latest album, American IV. Millions suspect wrong-doing by the record company. Thousands more start dressing in black and singing baritone country music in a desperate effort to plug the gap. The Presley estate is said to be "royal pissed, y'all".
Arnold Schwarzenegger is sworn in as the new Governor of California, while brandishing two semi-automatic rifles in order to symbolize the importance his administration will place on the poor and needy. The state is now renamed Kahleeforna for convenience.
The Right Reverend William Burr sits down to write his review of the year for Rum and Monkey, a satirical Web magazine with a bent bent towards the profane. The site's audience is primarily concerned with the next puerile personality test or the Daily Pirate, not to mention that dreadful talking pig, but he eventually decides someone might want to read it.
Christmas, Chanukah, Kwanzaa and half a dozen other religious festivals occur. Atheists celebrate capitalism. Communists ironically decline to celebrate the traditional season of giving and sharing.
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