With the coming of the New Year, there also comes uncertainty. What manner of global mayhem does 2006 hold for us? Which celebrities will die horribly in tragic, yet humorously appropriate accidents? When I finally sober up, will I be on the same continent on which I began the night? Fear not however, for my utilizing the dark and forbidden arts of necromancy, asking my Magic 8 Ball, and just making stuff up, I have complied here the authoritative list of 2006 predictions, that y’all, my readers, may laugh, chortle with fiendish glee, and start building a fallout shelter, as necessary.
The whole panic concerning the avian flu will come to a sudden and anticlimactic end after it is revealed that, due to a simple biological classification error on the part of an intern at the Federal Office of Things to Freak Out About, humans are not, technically speaking, members of the bird family, and therefore need only worry about catching the human flu, and in some cases the inveterate buttweasel flu.
Osama bin Laden will finally be found, not by Coalition forces in a cave in
Paris Hilton’s career prospects will continue to flag after increased competition in the skanky celebrity ho field after Luxembourg Hampton Inn and Vatican Doubletree begin to also do controversial Hardee’s commercials and steal the front pages of tabloids everywhere.
Jimmy Carter and Rick Moranis will at last collaborate on a major project, for which they will be awarded an Oscar, and a Nobel Peace Prize, respectively.
Ben Affleck will, through the most unfortunate of wardrobe malfunctions, be at last revealed to be a hideous space monster, hellbent on global destruction and being a complete tool. One angry crowd of villagers armed with torches and pitchforks later, however, the problem will be resolved to the satisfaction of all concerned parties.
At some point in the year, my name will appear in a major metropolitan newspaper, along with the words, “catapult,” “Richard Nixon,” and “Fiery Capuchin Monkey of Death.”
The metric system will continue to baffle all reasonable people.
My life, so far as romance is concerned, will drastically improve after I make the song “My Friend the Witch Doctor” into a guiding principle of life and love.
George Bush will be impeached. This will be hailed as a great victory by his foes for all of three seconds, at which point someone will mention that Dick Cheney is now President of the
Keanu Reeves will turn his sizeable dramatic talents to a remake of the beloved children’s classic, “The Wind in the Willows.” By the time it hits theaters, it will be called “Bill & Mr. Toad’s Bogus Killer Demon Robot Adventure.” A thousand years of peace will ensue as the human race at last falls into a state of universal harmony.
Another vacancy on the Supreme Court will occasion the nomination of renowned constitutional scholar and badass Patrick Stewart, who will use his starship and freaky mind powers to interpret some serious awesomeness into the Constitution.
Hurricanes will continue to have dopey names.
Teacupmammoths.com will become a pop culture sensation the likes of which have been neither heard nor seen since Charles Dickens teamed up with My Little Pony. I will become totally, totally famous, as well as incredibly wealthy. Woot.
