Wallace Memorial Issue
A.M. Juster's Seedy
Rhoda Bandler On
Bagels & Hegel
Poet: Jack Little
right wing rants;
The left wing chants.
Since both befuddle,
I'm stuck in the muddle.
APPROACHES, BUT WHEN?
they're tearing the confetti
And they're chilling down the wine,
'Cause there's gonna be a party
At the end of '99.
make your reservations;
That ol' magic number nears.
There won't be a bash like this one
For another thousand years.
Times Square you'll want to be as
We all raise our glasses high
When the numbers start their roll on
That odometer in the sky
those three tremendous goose eggs
Come to give us all a thrill;
If a new millennium won't change
Your life, then nothing will.
some scientists at Harvard,
Though they hate to spoil the fun,
Say the third millennium begins
there never was Year Nothing
(We began at One A.D.),
Year Two Thousand's just the last of
This millennium. You see?
the party planners know such
'Rithmetic does not apply,
'Cause there aren't too many people
Who can really count that high,
without a pause for breath they
Keep on getting into gear
For that most historic moment.
(Yeah, well, give or take a year.)