Let's get this new decade thing out of the way first.  I am one of those cranks who insist, as everyone recognized in 1900 and 1901, that a century, and hence, millennium commences in a year ending with 1, since there was no year 0.

But decades did not become iconic entities reviewed as such until, as far as I can tell, the 1920s.  Whether that is so or not, they are referred to by reference to the second to last digit:  hence, the Roaring Twenties and so on.  Generally, in discussing those decades a little poetic license is applied anyway as in "the sixties" which, from where I sit (and documented in part by "Mad Men") began on November 22, 1963 and ended on August 8, 1974.

So the decade without a name, the zeroes, the aughts, whatever you want to call it, ended last night. It was a decade that began horribly with a stolen, disputed election, got much worse the following year (more than likely the result of who was allowed to occupy the presidency) and went steadily downhill after that. It got so bad that the Democrats were finally allowed to elect a president, though, and the president elected is the most qualified, inspirational, and intelligent one we have had since November 22, 1963. Still, the slide into the abyss continues unabated, and our country of stupid people gets dumber by the minute.

More on that tomorrow, though, because today is a day of hope and of new beginnings, even if it is just a trick of an entry on a human being created calendar. Today is a day to dwell on the good things, of which there are surely many. Skipping over the completely personal ones, it is a day to celebrate the two world championships the Boston Red Sox won over the decade and the fact that the ballpark in which they play, one of the most beautiful places on earth, will be up and running today as the Bruins host Philadelphia.

This was a decade which put the world at all of our fingertips, and allowed us to communicate with one another, even with the use of sometimes clumsy aliases to allow us to say things that our alter egos probably ought not to circulate under their real names. That is good. Very good. And it gives me some reason to support hopes for the future.

The same technology allows us to buy and read a book, or hear music (of which there was quite a bit of great stuff generated this decade) without leaving home and, well, to watch virtually every game the Red Sox play even as I live in the diaspora.

So, yeh, go Bruins today. Pick up those two points in front of the Fenway Faithful (avenging that horrible Cup loss in 1974) and happy new year to one and all.

Kvetching commences again in the morning.