Here we go again, but this one will be great

2017 will be amaz­ing. It will be a year un­like any in hu­man his­tory

The Star Early Edition - - INSIDE - A Field Guide to Awk­ward Si­lences.

WE HAVE es­caped 2016. Good rid­dance, pesti­lent year! Every­thing that has gone wrong has been your fault. The year 2017 will be noth­ing like that.

First off, no more celebri­ties will be al­lowed to die.

There will be a mora­to­rium on celebrity death, start­ing on Jan­uary 1 and con­tin­u­ing through De­cem­ber 31. This goes for dogs, go­ril­las and pan­das as well. In fact, there will be no deaths of any kind.

Lis­ten, Ruth Bader Gins­burg, you may not like this any more than I do, but you are not al­lowed to leave the house any longer. Nei­ther are you, Betty White. Sit down and stay there. We will send you ap­proved, heart-healthy snacks and a pile of in­ter­est­ing read­ing ma­te­rial. We are sorry, but it can­not be helped.

In 2017, all beloved na­tional trea­sures will be con­stantly sheathed in a pro­tec­tive cas­ing and fol­lowed around by a team of no fewer than six doc­tors. They will not be per­mit­ted to walk un­der lad­ders. All black cats at­tempt­ing to cross their paths will be di­verted and then det­o­nated harm­lessly. Choles­terol will be swat­ted from their hands. Traf­fic will be routed around them. Their chil­dren will not be al­lowed to tell them dis­turb­ing per­sonal news with­out care­ful coach­ing from a team of ex­perts.

In 2017, all clowns will be col­lected from the woods. There will be no more re­ports of syl­van clowns beck­on­ing chil­dren into the woods with dol­lar bills. In short, there will be no more non­sense.

Any wild im­prob­a­bil­i­ties that sug­gest a rip in the fab­ric of time will no longer be al­lowed. For in­stance, if there is a rap mu­si­cal writ­ten about a found­ing father, it will close promptly af­ter three days to no fan­fare at all. Sim­i­larly, the Cubs will win no more World Se­ries, and the No­bel Prize in Lit­er­a­ture will re­turn to the staid, plaid-cov­ered arms of tra­di­tional au­thors.

Justin Bieber’s mu­sic will go back to be­ing bad. The kind of Eldritch magic re­quired to sum­mon up th­ese bizarre oc­cur­rences has too great a cost, and re­quires the sac­ri­fice of too many other un­re­lated hopes and dreams. The por­tal will be sealed, and the order of things will be re­stored.

In 2017 there will be an end to Hitler com­par­isons. There will be an end to all be­hav­iour that in­vites Hitler com­par­isons. The non­sense horse race of 2016 is over, and ev­ery­one will fo­cus, to­gether, on craft­ing sound pol­icy that is ben­e­fi­cial to all. The talk­ing heads on tele­vi­sion will ac­tu­ally know what they are talk­ing about. When ex­perts make pre­dic­tions, they will be re­spected and obeyed. Also, there will be no more count­downs. We will live in the present.

Amer­ica will be great again. Ev­ery­one will be is­sued a fes­tive hat. Bri­tain will qui­etly ig­nore the fact that it is sup­posed to be leav­ing the EU, and things will re­turn to nor­mal. If some­one makes a movie about good-na­tured ghost hunters, it will not be­come a gi­ant po­lit­i­cal fi­asco. There will be no more pro­files of sexy fas­cists with dap­per hair­cuts who hold neo-Nazi ral­lies. “Neo-Nazi,” peo­ple will say to them­selves: “That sounds, by def­i­ni­tion, bad. No more of that, please!”

In gen­eral, pol­i­tics will be en­tirely free from scan­dal, cor­rup­tion and hate. All Hunger Games analo­gies will cease forth­with. Don­ald Trump will ac­knowl­edge that be­ing pres­i­dent of the US is a se­ri­ous re­spon­si­bil­ity and will slough off his co­coon to re­veal a wise and benev­o­lent man who will gov­ern with tem­per­ance. He will ac­ci­den­tally delete his Twit­ter ac­count. He will no longer travel from place to place with a court com­prised en­tirely of his nu­mer­ous well­coiffed chil­dren.

In 2017, peo­ple will be­have quite dif­fer­ently to one an­other. They will be po­lite. They will be kind. Those acts of hate that you heard about were just 2016’s gen­eral pesti­lence at work, and 2016 will be over. Peo­ple will smile at each other on the side­walk. Ex­trem­ism will cease. We will be­lieve rape vic­tims. We will have no call to use the term “of­fi­cer-in­volved shoot­ing” ever again.

All peo­ple with grievances and ha­tred in their hearts will chan­nel them into strongly worded notes. There will be no dev­as­tat­ing pic­tures of chil­dren on the front pages of news­pa­pers be­cause, as stated above, no­body will die.

You will not wake up one morn­ing with the sullen, leaden sen­sa­tion deep in your stom­ach that per­haps, af­ter all, some peo­ple do not see you as a per­son. That was 2016, and 2016 is over. You will not need to worry and to fight and to ag­i­tate. That was the old year. This new one will emerge fully formed and per­fect and full of benev­o­lence for all.

All news will be real, and all news will be good.

2017 will be amaz­ing. It will be a year un­like any in hu­man his­tory. – The Wash­ing­ton Post Alexan­dra Petri writes the ComPost blog, of­fer­ing a lighter take on the news and opin­ions of the day. She is the au­thor of

Newspapers in English

Newspapers from South Africa

© PressReader. All rights reserved.