Year Zero Quotes

“O’Sama.”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“And like most of her peers, Barbara Ann has a French postal worker's sense of divine entitlement when it comes to her hours.”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“Clippy got that pervert-on-the-playground look again..”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“I used to think that English-speaking who conveniently look, dress, and act human only turned up in lazy science fiction. But as Carly and Frampton dematerialized, I became grimly aware of how well they'd also fit into a psychotic hallucination.”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“And so, October 13, 1977; 8:29 p.m. EST became the dawning moment of Year Zero to the rest of the universe.”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“Now, I’ve never heard a rabid hyena shriek from rectal acid burns. But I’ll bet that sounds a lot like Mllsh-mllsh introducing a guest.”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“I looked at Judy as calmly as I could. "Music and movie piracy..." I slipped into a dramatic pause as I desperately tried to come up with some idea, any idea. I scanned the room for inspiration, briefly glimpsed Randy-- I had my answer. "...are terrorism.”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“It makes perfect sense,” Bill Gates said. “I mean, seriously. Now that you think about it, could Windows really be anything but an alien conspiracy?”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“Trust me on this one. Nothing works better in a story line than infidelity and female bisexuality. It’s an iron law of physics.”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“You know New Zealand doesn’t count. It’s like Canada. But to Australia.”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“was as if hyperintelligent counterparts of Frank Gehry, Alex Calder, Dr. Seuss, and Martha Graham had gotten together, dropped a load of acid, and hit the drafting boards.”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“And throughout all of that … you’ve seriously, honestly, never encountered anything like the Copyright Damages Improvement Act?” “Not even close. Our top legal scholars have researched it thoroughly. And they unanimously agree that it’s the most cynical, predatory, lopsided, and shamelessly money-grubbing copyright law written by any society, anywhere in the universe since the dawn of time itself.”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“And even if I turned out to be entirely sane—well then, great, it meant that an alien advance party was suddenly nosing around my planet. Worse, they were lawyering up.”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“The terms of this contract shall apply past the end of time and the edge of Earth; all throughout the universe; in perpetuity; in any media, whether now known, or hereafter devised; or in any form, whether now known, or hereafter devised.”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“the survivors got a bit hardier. Kotter was like an inoculation that toughened everyone up for Olivia Newton-John, who in turn prepared the cosmos for Billy Joel. So as the music got marginally less awful, the mortality rate paradoxically dropped. And by the time they started exploring the FM frequencies, most Refined beings were ready for what they found. By then it was mid-1978. The FM dial was jammed with what we now call Classic Rock, and some stations occasionally played entire albums from start to finish. The last big die-off occurred when WPLJ broadcast both sides of Led Zeppelin IV. And anyone who survived that had what it took to safely listen to even the most stellar rock ’n’ roll.”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“Proving once again that dumbshits with flashlights can look like gods to geniuses, if the geniuses are from the technological past,”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“He’s had some surprising successes (e.g., Amish vs. Aliens—a maddeningly addictive Facebook game). He’s had some awful flops (e.g., Forever 29—a store for older women who liked to dress like trashy youngsters, and lie about their age). And”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“No, we haven’t stopped the spread of pirated music or movies online, nor have we slowed it even slightly. But we do get paid pornographically vast sums for trying our very best.”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“Because we need to enlist the greatest copyright attorney on Earth. If not … the universe.”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“music licensing is an arcane thicket of ambiguity, overlapping jurisdictions, and litigation. This”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“I have now scoured your Internet, and have identified several ersatz concierges that were created by your own society, and are in current and active use throughout it. I strongly suggest that you allow me to import and implement one of them.” I caught Manda’s eye. She shrugged. “Sure,” I said. “Earth’s most popular ersatz concierge has had hundreds of millions of users—although its usage has declined rather dramatically in recent years. Shall we try that one?” I really, really, really should have asked why the thing was shedding users. Instead I shrugged and said, “Why not?” The dazzling, octodimensional projection instantly transformed into a flat rendering of a paperclip with googly eyes. “That’s an ersatz concierge?” Manda whispered after a shocked silence. “Dear God …” As she said this, the paperclip’s eyes darted cunningly from side to side. Then a cartoon bubble appeared above its head reading, “It looks like you’re writing a letter. Would you like help?” It was Clippy—the despised emcee of Microsoft Office. I knew him well. Because while he had allegedly retired long ago, my firm—like so many others—had clung to the Clippy-infested Windows XP operating system for years beyond its expiration date, staving off the expense and trauma of a Windows upgrade. That process had finally started eighteen months back. But copyright associates are low in the priority queue—and I had been slated to get upgraded “next month” for as long as I could remember. “Okay, go back,” I said. Clippy stared at me impassively. “Stop it. Cut it out. Go back. Use the other interface. Use the gem thing.” As I said this, Clippy’s eyes started darting again as he scribbled on a notepad with an animated pencil. Another cartoon bubble appeared. “It looks like you’re making a list. Should I format it?” I fell into an appalled silence. Then Manda gave it a shot. “We do not want to use this ersatz concierge,” she enunciated clearly. “Please return us to the previous one.” Clippy gazed back with bovine incomprehension. We went on to try every command, plea, and threat that we could think of. But we couldn’t get back to the prior concierge. Luckily, the stereopticon’s projector mode was still working fine (“If you download Windows Media Player, I’m throwing you under a bus,” Manda warned it).”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“A scouting craft soon entered our solar system. It detected several broadcast signals, and routed the strongest one (WABC-TV in New York) to a distant team of anthropologists—who then found themselves watching a first-run episode of the hit sitcom Welcome Back, Kotter (the one in which Arnold Horshack joins a zany youth cult). Before I get into what happened next, I should mention that music is the most cherished of the forty so-called Noble Arts that Refined beings revere and dedicate their lives to. It is indeed viewed as being many times Nobler than the other thirty-nine Arts combined. And remember—their music sucks. The first alien Kotter watchers initially doubted that we had music at all, because everything about the show screamed that we were cultural and aesthetic dunderheads. Primitive sight gags made them groan. Sloppy editing made them chuckle. Wardrobe choices practically made them wretch. And then, it happened. The show ended. The credits rolled, and the theme music began. And suddenly, the brainless brutes that they’d been pitying were beaming out the greatest creative achievement that the wider universe had ever witnessed. Welcome back, Welcome back, Welcome back.”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“self-defense—since any society that’s violent and stupid enough to self-destruct on H-bombs might easily destroy the entire universe if it survives long enough to invent something with real firepower.”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“Nick,” Judy said. “Just like blacks can use the N-word with impunity, and queers can use the F-word, and orientals can use the A-word, Mitzi and I are within the bounds of decorum when we joke about other women being sluts. But as a man in a phallocentric society, you cross a bright, red line when you do that—particularly in a professional setting. Is that clear?”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero

“After listening intently for a few seconds, he turned to me. “North Vietnam?” He shook his head derisively. “Very, very bad.” He listened some more, then denounced Brezhnev.”
― Rob Reid, Year Zero