A Very Special Montykins

This isn't really a Very Special Montykins. I won't be learning the True Lesson of Christmas and I won't get visited by a developmentally challenged cousin. I won't go on a family vacation to Hawaii and I won't go through any "life changes". I won't grapple with important questions, and I won't learn any deep truths about myself.

In particular, I will not be learning to accept my flaws, the flaws in others, or the flaws in the US judicial system. I will not learn that beauty is on the inside, that drugs are bad, or that killing is wrong. I will also not learn the historical reasons for why Easter is when it is, the names of the signers of the Declaration of Independence, or how to make a crystal radio.

I will not meet a long-lost twin, a forgotten lover, or an old nemesis. The Fonz will not be dropping by, and neither will Charo, Spock, Mork, Laura Bush, Henry Kissinger, Santa Claus, John Ratzenberger, Robert Hegyes, the Pope, Darth Maul, Oprah, Emeril, supermodel Erin O'Connor, the reanimated corpse of Napoleon, David Duchovny, any members of the Spice Girls, N'Sync, Backstreet Boys, Def Leppard, the State, the Vienna Boys Choir, or Rockapella, Jack Black, Bruce Willis, Cheech Marin, Brak, Mr. Potato Head, King Kong, J.R. "Bob" Dobbs, Janeane Garofalo, Jesus, Satan, Buddha, Krishna, Lara Croft, Alton Brown, Jaye P. Morgan, Dorothy Parker, Robert Benchley, or Dracula.

I will not be making a guest appearance on other people's websites; nor will they be appearing here. I will not be trying to get a rock star to appear at my school dance, and I will not be discovered by Hollywood. I will not get amnesia from a bonk on the head, and will, as a consequence, not regain my memory with another bonk. This is not a two-part episode, and there will be no cliffhanger where you're left wondering who's dead and who's alive. This will not be revealed to have all been a dream, and this will not spin off into its own web page.

There will be no flashbacks and no possible futures explored. I will not slip on a banana peel, do a double-take, or spit my water all over my computer screen. TV Land will not be basing a weekend around this, and Entertainment Weekly is unlikely to put it on the cover.

I will not be featuring a cute baby that nobody's seen before. Or a new pair of twins. In general, there will be no sudden infusion of cuteness in an attempt to cover up the aging cast. There are no wacky neighbors, bickering couples, jive-talking teens, crotchety old folks, mocha-sipping slackers, good-hearted-yet-unsophisticated hicks, grizzled veterans, fresh-faced rookies, zany foreigners, or animal sidekicks.

I will not be asking anyone to kiss my grits, be careful out there, or sock anything to me.

Nope. Just a perfectly ordinary day over here. But if they invent a sweeps week for the internet, I make no promises.