Millennium Movie Quotes

Richards remembered the day - that glorious and terrible day - watching the planes slam into the towers, the image repeated in endless loops. The fireballs, the bodies falling, the liquefaction of a billion tons of steel and concrete, the pillowing clouds of dust. The money shot of the new millennium, the ultimate reality show broadcast 24-7. Richards had been in Jakarta when it happened, he couldn't even remember why. He'd thought it right then; no, he'd felt it, right down to his bones. A pure, unflinching rightness. You had to give the military something to do of course, or they'd all just fucking shoot each other. But from that day forward, the old way of doing things was over. The war - the real war, the one that had been going on for a thousand years and would go on for a thousand thousand more - the war between Us and Them, between the Haves and the Have-Nots, between my gods and your gods, whoever you are - would be fought by men like Richards: men with faces you didn't notice and couldn't remember, dressed as busboys or cab drivers or mailmen, with silencers tucked up their sleeves. It would be fought by young mothers pushing ten pounds of C-4 in baby strollers and schoolgirls boarding subways with vials of sarin hidden in their Hello Kitty backpacks. It would be fought out of the beds of pickup trucks and blandly anonymous hotel rooms near airports and mountain caves near nothing at all; it would be waged on train platforms and cruise ships, in malls and movie theaters and mosques, in country and in city, in darkness and by day. It would be fought in the name of Allah or Kurdish nationalism or Jews for Jesus or the New York Yankees - the subjects hadn't changed, they never would, all coming down, after you'd boiled away the bullshit, to somebody's quarterly earnings report and who got to sit where - but now the war was everywhere, metastasizing like a million maniac cells run amok across the planet, and everyone was in it.

We could begin to allow the history of science to curb scientific awe by imposing a rating system, like those used with movies and television. Any scientific claim that lasts longer than a millennium, we'll rate "GC" for "Getting Close." For claims that stand for five hundred years, we'll rate "KP," for "Kinda Probable;" for a century, "PF" for Probably False;" for fifty years, "ACF" for "Almost Certainly False;" for twenty years and less, "TLA," for "Treat Like Astrology.

Tho was Buffalo Bill Cody? Most people know, at the very least, that he was a hero of the Old West, like Daniel Boone, Davy Crockett, and Kit Carson-one of those larger-than-life figures from which legends are made. Cody himself provided such a linkage to his heroic predecessors in 1888 when he published a book with biographies of Boone, Crockett, Carson-and one of his own autobiographies: Story of the Wild West and Campfire Chats, by Buffalo Bill (Hon. W.F. Cody), a Full and Complete History of the Renowned Pioneer Quartette, Boone, Crockett, Carson and Buffalo Bill. In this context, Cody was often called "the last of the great scouts." Some are also aware that he was an enormously popular showman, creator and star of Buffalo Bill's Wild West, a spectacular entertainment of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. It has been estimated that more than a billion words were written by or about William Frederick Cody during his own lifetime, and biographies of him have appeared at irregular intervals ever since. A search of "Buffalo Bill Cody" on amazon.com reveals twenty-seven items. Most of these, however, are children's books, and it is likely that many of them play up the more melodramatic and questionable aspects of his life story; a notable exception is Ingri and Edgar Parin d'Aulaire's Buffalo Bill, which is solidly based on fact. Cody has also shown up in movies and television shows, though not in recent years, for whatever else he was, he was never cool or cynical. As his latest biographer, I believe his life has a valuable contribution to make in this new millennium-it provides a sense of who we once were and who we might be again. He was a commanding presence in our American history, a man who helped shape the way we look at that history. It was he, in fact, who created the Wild West, in all its adventure, violence, and romance. Buffalo Bill is important to me as the symbol of the growth of our nation, for his life spanned the settlement of the Great Plains, the Indian Wars, the Gold Rush, the Pony Express, the building of the transcontinental railroad, and the enduring romance of the American frontier-especially the Great Plains. Consider what he witnessed in his lifetime: the invention of the telephone, the transatlantic cable, the automobile, the airplane, and the introduction of modem warfare, with great armies massed against each other, with tanks, armored cars, flame-throwers, and poison gas-a far cry from the days when Cody and the troopers of the Fifth Cavalry rode hell-for-leather across the prairie in pursuit of hostile Indians. Nor, though it is not usually considered

Also, the repeated footage of dead bodies, no doubt intended to shock, proves nothing that is not already known and will do little to impress a modern audience accustomed to eating pizza while watching Alien.

Seamus sat on the edge of his desk and said, “So what brings you over here this afternoon?” I told him all about my struggles with John Macy. Took about five full minutes. I let my anger roll out while telling the story. When I was finished, my grandfather looked at me and said, “Ask God for strength to deal with morons.” “That’s it?” “And if that doesn’t work, plant cocaine on him.” Seamus waited for a response. When he didn’t get one, he said, “What? Isn’t that what cops do in movies to get someone in trouble?” I kept a straight face and said, “In real life we’d plant child pornography on his computer.” “Ah, the new millennium.

I’ve seen these movies at least twenty times, and I’m used to making snarky comments and pointing out filming errors. I haven’t watched Star Wars without a liberal dose of cynicism since I was ten years old. But something funny begins to happen when we start A New Hope. The words scrawl across the screen, and Matteo reads them out loud, and a shiver runs down my spine. This whole universe is about to be opened up to him, and I’m the one who gets to introduce him to the marvels of the Millennium Falcon. And R2-D2. And I’m seriously hoping this is the old cut with the non-remastered Jabba. I realize I’m giddy. It feels magical.

Generation Y, Millenials, whatever we were, we weren’t concerned about ancient doctrine or philosophy. Angels and devils were stories told to give us hope or scare us. All we wanted was to live, man, and enjoy our time while we could, come whatever may. Music was great, movies and games were great, and we couldn’t wait to graduate and leave our shitty little town. The horrors of 9/11 hadn’t happened yet, the economy hadn’t collapsed, and a gallon of gas cost less than a buck-ten. The millennium was coming up. The threat of Y2K was real and yet no one understood why. College was on the horizon, the gateway to our successful futures, and what an exciting time that promised to be. Who had time for ghosts and the words of dead men? Why worry about superstitious dangers? How many cracks have I stepped on without breaking Mom’s back? I’ve lost count of how many black cats have crossed my path. We—I—grew up in a time when none of that mattered because tomorrow was a million years away. Even now, as my peers are back home living with their parents, unable to afford what society promised them twenty years ago, we’re all still living day to day. Living in the moment. We have no time for superstition because, hey, I need to meet my hourly quota for the day, week, month so I can pay my bills and continue surviving.

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