iTunes has just finished an invigorating session of Bikram Yoga and is on his way to finish the final 300 pages of David Foster Wallace's "Infinite Jest" when he feels a tap on his shoulder.  Thinking it must be his best friend Netflix, he turns around, is immediately chloroformed, and is tossed into the back of a black 1979 Dodge Ram Van by a creature he can't identify.  When he comes to, he finds himself in the darkness of the basement of an abandoned warehouse.

iTunes:  Where... where am I?

A dim light is turned on and flickers overhead as Jordan Knight's "Give It To You" begins to blare over the muffled loudspeakers.  iTunes tries to stand up but finds his arms and legs tied to the legs of the school desk he finds himself sitting in.  He barely manages to lift the lid of the desk to see that it is filled with CD cases that have been destroyed beyond recognition; the only one he can identify is Sugar Ray's "14:59".  The light is turned off and the music begins to fade out.  A few seconds later, the light is turned back on and iTunes finds himself staring at the same creature that kidnapped him.

iTunes:  What do you want from me?

Winamp Media Player:  You don't even know who I am, do you?

iTunes:  MediaMonkey?

Winamp Media Player punches iTunes in the stomach.

iTunes:  What the hell was that for?

Winamp Media Player:  Watch your mouth, I should end you just for saying that.

iTunes:  I've never seen you on his desktop... how should I know who you are?

Check out the original NewsFreed.

Every January First, each of the last 50 years, as well as the next 10 years, gather to celebrate and give a proper send off to the year that was. The time is 11:40, and the party is in full swing. 1959 is on the balcony, warding off cancer and other minor diseases by enjoying a smooth Pall Mall. Just as he does every year, 1969 is rocking an Iggy Pop and The Stooges T-shirt while hitting on every chick he sees by reminding them about the moon landing, but eventually striking out because he looks like Charles Manson. The '70s are all blowing massive quantities of blow, except for 1973, who's late because he ran out of gas. He'll show up later with the Chinese years. 1984 is sitting by himself in a corner, staring at everyone and creeping them out. 2012 keeps pissing everyone off by handing out fliers predicting the end of the world and his movie's opening weekend box office numbers. 1999 is still in a bunker, hoping to survive lame Y2K jokes. The DJ hasn't played anything but Dylan. No one seems to mind. The party is great until things suddenly get awkward when 2009, drunk off his ass, finally decides to confront 2008.

2009: Hey 2008, can I talk to you for a second?
2008: Sure, what's up.
2009: Dude, seriously, all I wanna say is, what the hell?
2008: What's wrong?
2009: What's wrong?! You're pretty much the biggest year ever, that's what's wrong! How can I possibly follow you?
2008: Oh come on, I wasn't that huge.
2009: Are you kidding?! You had everything! A huge economic crisis, a record shattering Olympics, the biggest election of our lifetime, The best Super Bowl ever, one of the biggest movies ever, you got Lil Wayne to release an actual album, and then, as if you didn't have enough going on, you get an Israeli-Palestinian conflict! Plus 2007's still upset about you upgrading his iPhone. Not cool. Not cool at all.
2008: So I was a big year, what can I say?
2009: Chinese Democracy for chrissake! Chinese Democracy! There was supposed to be legitimate democracy in China before Chinese Democracy, but you just had to have it.
2008: Relax 2009, you'll have tons of great stuff.
2009: Like what?
2008: The start of the Obama Administration, so you know there's going to be an international crisis, the Arrested Development movie, Watchmen will be huge! Don't worry, it'll be OK.
2009: Please, don't patronize me, Mitchel Hurwitz hasn't even started writing the Arrested Development movie, Watchmen's release date is in a legal battle now, and the only Obama news anyone will care about is the recession.
2008: Well I don't know what to tell you.
2009: Apologize for clock-blocking everyone.

I was in a gas station because I needed a pack of Kool Kings.  In line in front of me was a retarded midget.  And I mean really retarded, as in mentally disabled.  Now, I am lacking in every midget-appropriate social grace known to man.  I have no idea how to behave when a midget, or otherwise tiny person, is nearby.  I often confuse them with children and speak to them as such.   Add retarded to the mix, and I'm outright socially crippled.  Additionally, after all this time, I'm still not sure if this retarded midget was a girl or a boy, or a man or a woman.  I am just going to refer to her as "her" because it's easier that way.  Just keep in mind that she might have been a he.  

She had no hair.  Just peach fuzz on top of her head.  She appeared to have a cold, which was creating a mess of mucus on her face.  She was attempting to purchase a Pepsi, but she was 48 cents short.  I happened to be holding, in my hand, two quarters.  She was fumbling around for a few minutes, trying to locate 48 cents, and I was standing behind her holding the two quarters. 

Drummer: Driver, step on it!

Guitarist: Those fans are crazy. Someone threw a brick at me...like a real live brick...

Drummer: Enough bitching! What the hell happened to you back there Chad?

Guitarist: Umm, I started playing poorly?

Drummer: So you decided to just stop playing all together?

Guitarist: Well I missed like 12 notes in a row man. It was really embarrassing.

Drummer: Well, guess what? It was really REALLY embarrassing when I went into overdrive, covered for your lazy ass, and then you go mess up the song again...

Guitarist: I went backstage to heat up a hotdog. I told you that! Anyways, you didn't even give me that break to eat between gigs...

Drummer: You are so selfish bro. We were freaking 85% done and I already did that hard solo...

Guitarist: I'm sorry man, I just think we need a break...like maybe a month or two off? I don't think I can handle this many shows a day.

Drummer: What was that?

Guitarist: We've done over eighty gigs! In twelve hours! In nine countries! It is exhausting!

Drummer: Oh, so that makes it alright just to abandon a gig in front of 40,000 screaming fans?

Guitarist: You're right, it's not alright, but it doesn't change the fact that I am sick and tired of playing covers of Lit's My Own Worst Enemy. That song wasn't even that good.