Welcome to the tweens.

As we begin another year in the twenty-first century, I propose that we finally all get on board with using the shorter and more efficient twenty-twelve as opposed to two-thousand twelve. It may sound nitpicky, but bear with me.

Besides, nitpicking has a long, proud tradition among primates.

Look at these guys,
kick'n it in the 'aught's.

In the twentieth century we said nineteen eighty four and not one thousand nine hundred, eighty-four, so there's precedent. People in the 1900's had it easy: Nineteen-oh-two, nineteen-oh-three, no problem. Sometimes, if they were feeling saucy, they'd opt for the 'aught, an abbreviation of naught or 0. However in the first decade of the new millennium we had the awkward choice between two-thousand two and twenty-oh-two, but that's all over now. The year 2012, while not quite technically the teens, it at least firmly in a decade where saying 20-something can sound cool.

You're not cooking, getting out of the
car or spelling things correctly. The
drive-thru is lazy on at least 3 levels.

Besides, sounding out every part of the year is old-fashioned, and more than a little pretentious. Two thousand and twelve? Why not Anno Domini, two thousand, ten and two? Where does it end? Are you being paid by the syllable? No. Ours is a culture of needless abbreviations. Adorbs, schedge, LMFAO-understand that I am in no way advocating these. They're terrible and signal the death of the written word. I'm just suggesting that we're not really in any position to turn our noses up at a handy phrasing like twenty-twelve.

Hey, look what it's not:
the 21st century.

Perhaps the most compelling reason is this: it's more futurey. People in movies and TV shows set in the future always use the sportier 20-whatever to refer to the year. The twenty-first century is now twelve years old (or eleven...) and we seem no closer to the hover cars and bleak corporate ziggurats of Blade-Runner. The least we can do is start talking like people from the future. So there you have it: precedent, convenience and future-appeal. What are we waiting for?

Fact: When the Robotron befalls us (and it will), the scattered remnants of humanity
will not be dicking around with 'two thousand eighty-four.'