We started watching the new season of Bosch, and it opens with a scene where everybody is celebrating New Year 2020. I almost threw up.
I think we’d all be better served to pretend 2020 never happened and move on.
Opinions, art, debate
We started watching the new season of Bosch, and it opens with a scene where everybody is celebrating New Year 2020. I almost threw up.
I think we’d all be better served to pretend 2020 never happened and move on.
Ah, 2020 wasn’t such a bad year. The stock market kept going up like a rocket, and anti-social types like me were compelled to drop out of social obligations that were a recurrent pain in the ass, anyway.
So far, 2021 has kept up the good work — but the inevitable sunrise is coming on a new day, and all good times must come to an end.
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There were parts of 2020 that were certainly traumatizing, but 2020 brought me my son so it was a blessing, too…I have trouble remembering his birth year as 2020, interestingly enough. I never have a problem remembering his sister’s. Whenever someone asks His DOB or I write it down on forms, I say/write 2021. It’s as though my psyche is indeed trying to forget that year existed.
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I can’t forget 2020 happened, for two reasons. First, I’m still living with the consequences, which have not even come close to ending yet. I consider it very likely that I will either see the United States disintegrate, or that I will end up as a political prisoner or an exile. Before 2020, those possibilities seemed remote; now, they seem almost inevitable barring a miracle. I still go on with my daily life and responsibilities, because that is what a mature adult does; but I go about them with the full knowledge that all of my little life’s remaining good things can be destroyed by the Biden regime on any given day.
Second, on New Year’s Day, I was celebrating with my family in San Diego, California, and I was looking forward with optimism to the 2020s. I really was. By summer 2020, it was already clear how terribly delusional that hope had been, and nothing since then has improved. As Dante wrote:
There is no greater sorrow
Than to be mindful of the happy time
In misery.
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Just fast forward through the “Incel” subplot in the final season. It’s idiotic and pointless.
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I keep wishingβ¦Bosch was real
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