collective guard

What if computers are smarter than we knew? And now that our collective guard is down, is this year, asks, the real millennial deal?
I don't know about you, but I'm feeling sorry for the new year. If you listen carefully, you can hear its cry on the cold winter wind. "Me!" it pleads. ""I am the first year of the new millen-nium. That other year? 2000? That was the final year of the old millennium. I'm the real deal. Pay attention to me."

Personally, I have no earthly idea if 2001 is the first year of the new millennium or not. Certainly, the year 2000 won the popularity contest. But I've heard calendar-bending claims on behalf of other years as well. And 2001 can lay as good a claim as any, and probably better than most. Which is why I think it's feeling a little neglected.

Just put yourself in its shoes. There's been no Y2K scare. No millennial cults. No shelters. No hoopla of any kind. Just your basic pre- and/or post-, aka every-year, hangover.

This new year arrived with little fanfare. Hordes didn't descend on remote regions of the world to see the first day's first light. Special parties weren't thrown in anticipation of the dawn of a new age.

New millennium?

Been there, done that.

So what does the world do to greet this year, arguably the real millennial deal? Diddley. This poor new year doesn't get any commemorative watches or special edition coffee mugs or once-in-a-lifetime candy bars. It gets no essays in national magazines. No Web sites. No round-the-clock reportage from around the world. It just gets a few pregnant chad jokes, themselves leftover from the end of last year.

2001 is the Rodney Dangerfield of new years. It gets no respect.

But what if 2001 is everything that 2000 was supposed to be, but wasn't?