1985 was rad and all, but something bad happened in the future land of 2004, and the earth wobbled and wibbled. And then in 2005, the cat can’t decide if she wants to be in or out, and I totally agree with that position, although it can be tiresome. There are theoretical units of value in my bank account, which were placed there because I used some of my time to do taxing things like write emails and make food dance on the internet. I transmitted some of my imaginary holdings via some electrons to be turned into bottled water and antibiotics. Electrons wear pointed shoes and jaunty caps. Then I picked up an issue of National Geographic Traveler, because vacation planning just got harder. As if life isn’t hard enough.
I can’t stay in 2005. I am booking a retreat to 1979, because I had a dream where everyone was speaking gibberish and “Fantastic Voyage” was playing in the background. This seems to be as good an idea as any. In 1979, I had just started growing teeth and learning about my feet. Later that year, I tried macaroni and cheese for the first time and loved it. Come to think of it, everyone *was* speaking gibberish to me in 1979. Maybe this is why I grew up to enjoy pharmaceuticals of all kinds. I have hands? Wow! What went wrong, ma?