Over on the Discworld, this is the Century of the Fruitbat.
Fruitbats are fine, but this is a different world. Here on our round earth, we have just entered the Century of the Iguana. The previous century, which ended in 1999, was, of course, the Century of the Tree Weasel, appropriate for an era when we seemed to spend a lot of time up in the air, trying to sneak up on each other. Iguanas are less energetic, but also less treacherous: with a bit of luck we'll have a calm, quiet hundred years to adjust to all the recent changes. If we're not so lucky, our iguana may plummet off the nearest cliff into the Singularity.
If you're muttering "wait a minute, there was no year zero," you're sneaking up on the point, in a very Century of the Tree Weasel way: There was no year zero, but nowhere is it written that centuries have to begin at any particular time: a century is a series of 100 years, no more and no less. There are several New Years, celebrated in an array of ways, in any series of 365 days. The twentieth century has a year to go, but the Century of the Iguana has already started.
Completed on the 21st day of the first year of the Century of the Iguana. This page brought to you by Redbird.org and the Oxygen Investigation Committee.
By special request: my home page is full of things that have nothing to do with iguanas.
Copyright 2000 Vicki Rosenzweig