Having already begun partying like it's 1999, I've spent very little effort becoming Y2K* compatible. Though the millenium might mark the end of the world, or at least force the makers of Miracle Mop 2000 to reconsider the forwardness of their product, my preparation remains surprisingly lax.

Except for winding my watch forward to see if it has a "00," my readiness for the year 2000 pretty much centers on my astounding knowledge of "Jetsons" trivia. If midnight on New Year's 1999 signals the end of everything, I'll be the guy in the hereafter who has the correct time and knows that Astro and Tralfaz are the same dog.

The difference between 99 and 00 may collapse our entire system of electronic commerce and record-keeping, destroying life as we know it, but it has some positives. The letters about the copy of "Superfudge" I checked out from the library in fourth grade will stop coming, and Cher's age will officially reset to zero.

We may all sink back to medieval times, but "Full House" will never air again, Pauly Shore will never make another film and no one will ever endure even one more performance of "Cats." Add that to never having to see another Yankee World Series victory, and the destruction of mankind seems a small price indeed.

Apparently this whole millenium dilemma has snuck up on the people who design software. Perhaps the internet debates about the merits of Gillian Anderson distracted the entire computer world. Or maybe between forwarding e-mail "jokes" and sympathizing with Dilbert's current plight, everyone missed the inter-office memo about the impending global disaster.

The idea that people in the early 1990s had a hard time considering that the year 2000 might present a wee problem reflects poorly on the computer folks. We might lack solutions to the Millenium Bug, but anyone with a calendar should have seen it coming.

While birthdays, extra pounds and Celine Dion albums sneak up on you, millenia generally occur at fairly predictable times. The passing of 1,000 years happens with the subtlety of a Jean Claude Van Damme movie. Forget computers; anyone with an abacus, a sundial and a pointy rock to scratch at things should have a basic idea of the year.

With time ticking away, we still have no answers. So far, the people working on the problem have done little more than create the snazzy Y2K abbreviation and its accompanying logo. The Millenium Bug may crash our computers, wipe out our savings accounts, and screw up our VCRs' efforts to tape "The Simpsons," but a problem with a nickname seems so much less troubling.

It's not an information Armageddon, it's Y2K, a cute little misunderstood bug. Instead of a worldwide crisis that may send man hurtling back to prehistoric times, we see Jiminy Cricket with an eye toward mischief.

Apparently, along with cockroaches and personal injury lawyers, good marketing concepts will outlive us all. But if massive computer failure does send us back to the Stone Age, I'm hoping for the Fred Flintstone version, not one in which men in animal skins beat me with elephant bones.

*Y2K=Year 2000