2010

On Jan. 1st, the fam watched "2010," the 1984 sequel to "2001: A Space Odyssey." Like the first, it was based on the Arthur C. Clarke novel, but was not directed by Stanley Kubrick. As such, "2010's" total mis-predictions of what 2010 might look like are a little less forgivable (where are my commercial space ships, huh? my talking computers? where are my hoverboards? I'm looking at you, Back to the Future! you have five years to deliver, you hear? five years), but it's still an enjoyable flick. If you want to see Jupiter turn into a sun, put it on your netflix cue, post-haste.

And don't feed me no crap about how we're so much more wired and advanced then the futurists and scientists could have predicted, either; if it's a choice between the 2010 with iphones, youtube, and twitter, and the 2010 with the moonbases, I'll gladly snatch up the latter. You can update your facebook status to "just saw Avatar in 3-D: awesome!!!," while I'll be checking into the frickin' Sheraton on the Sea of Tranquility.

Seriously, if someone from 1968 came out of cryogenic freezing today and asked to see the latest technological advancements, he'd probably smile politely at e-mail and our ability to watch DVDs in bed, but all while I guarantee he'd be scratching his head thinking, "Golly, I thought for sure there'd be moonbases by now..." (Also, I think we should all start saying "Golly" unironically again).

But then, in "2010," Clarke presupposes that the cold war is still in full swing; the action pivots on a combined Soviet-U.S. space mission to Jupiter. So, if the price we have to pay to live in a universe where the people of the former Soviet bloc are free is to live in a world with facebook, the Star Wars prequels, and Wolf Blitzer CGI-ing some hackneyed hologram on election night, then it's a price I'm willing to pay.

For freedom.