This year, Dennis Rodman -- a man known for behavior calculated to elicit opinions -- acted unconventional so that people would point cameras at him and say his name in sentences. Suspiciously, in the year 1996, people also acknowledged Rodman's actions and words.
What if when you die you realize that your entire life with all of its joy and suffering and 70,000 bowel movements was but a one-second concussion because you're actually an unfathomable god-beast locked in a slobberknocker bar brawl with another god-beast, but instead of feeling relieved that you aren't roasting in Hell or a disembodied consciousness doomed to swirl around the void for eternity, you're enraged because you're drunk and 100-light-years tall and annoyed that a phosphene jam-packed with dumb shit like your 7th birthday and your sister's voice and the way tears welled in the corner of your eyes when that special person said "I love you" for the first time distracted you, so you force yourself to forget and wind up for a haymaker that could eradicate a nebula?
Anyway, Hi and Lois is still being published, just as it was in 1996.
Kings Feature Syndicate
Further proof: Coffee existed in 1996.
So there you have it. When the ball drops at 11:59:50 on Dec. 31, the year 1996 will jump out of a laundry hamper wearing the bleached skull of 2013 like some kabuki death mime and yell, "IT WAS ME ALL ALONG!" And then, 10 seconds later, 1993 will skulk on by wearing 2014's skin as a petticoat, snap a selfie, and cackle, "I'M MR. VAIN!" They'll proceed to rage until dawn, celebrating their duplicity by filching Angostura bitters or isopropyl alcohol or whatever's left in the cupboard. Happy New and/or Old Year's, gang.
Cyriaque Lamar is a senior editor here at Cracked. You can find him on Twitter.
As 2013 draws to a close, be sure to check out Cracked's year in review because, well, we know you don't remember it half as well as you think.