Folded thought of the day:

I was rummaging through my Y2K bunker, making sure I'm prepared 
for the big shut-down and reflecting on the Millennium, our 
place in the universe and other humdrum thoughts. 

I inherited my bunker from my survivalist Uncle.  He has since 
moved into a cave somewhere in the Death Valley.  So he sent 
it to me C.O.D.  I had it moved to an empty lot down the street 
by some door-to-door insurance salesmen.  I promised them 
a window seat, too bad they didn't read the fine print.  

Sorting through an apocalyptic inventory... 

One stack of "Kill a Commie for Mommy" bumper stickers.  
Not really relevant this time around but drives home that 
protect-your-boundaries fervor that could come in handy when 
those neighbors come a-knocking.  

Gasoline-powered foot massager.  Industrial strength 
breath mints.  Short-wave radio so I can keep score 
along with the Riot Squad.  Canned food, canned heat, 
canned peace-of-mind.  Filtered drinking water and 
unfiltered water for apple bobbing festivities.  
51-card solitaire deck.  Polo shirt for casual 
Fridays.  One copy of the Federal Tax Code.  Farrah 
Fawcett poster.  

I'd say I'm about as Y2K compliant as I'm gonna get.  
How about yourself?  Have you gotten into the 
hoarding spirit yet?  Better hurry, cause the opportunity 
to get caught up in mass hysteria and loosely founded 
mega-hype doesn't come along every day.  

Okay, so maybe it does.  But rarely is it so thinly 
veiled.