Looking back on 2004, we have to conclude that it could have been worse.

"HOW??" you ask, spitting out your coffee.

Well, OK, a giant asteroid could have smashed into the Earth and destroyed all human life except Paris Hilton and William Hung. Or Florida could have been hit by 20 hurricanes, instead of just 17.

Or the Yankees could have won the World Series.

But no question, 2004 was bad. Consider:

• We somehow managed to hold a presidential election campaign that for several months was devoted almost entirely to the burning issue of: Vietnam.

• Our Iraq policy, despite being discussed, debated and agreed upon right up to the very highest levels of the White House, did not always seem to be wildly popular over there in Iraq.

• Osama bin Laden remained at large for yet another year (although we did manage, at long last, to put Martha Stewart behind bars).

• The federal budget deficit continued to worsen, despite the concerted effort of virtually every elected official in Washington — Republican or Democrat — to spend more money.

• As a nation, we managed somehow to get even fatter, despite the fact that anti-carbohydrate mania worsened to the point where the average American would rather shoot heroin than eat a bagel.

• The "reality"-show cancer continued to metastasize, so that you couldn't turn on the TV without seeing either Donald Trump or a cavalcade of dimwits emoting dramatically about eating bugs, losing weight, marrying a millionaire or remodeling a bathroom.

• Perhaps most alarming of all, Cher yet again extended her "farewell" tour, which began during the Jimmy Carter administration and is now expected to continue until the sun goes out.

So all things considered, we're happy to be entering a new year, which according to our calculations will be 2005 (although the exit polls are predicting it will be 1997). But before we move on, let's swallow our anti-nausea medication and take one last look back at 2004, which began, as so many years seem to, with . . .

January

. . . a month that opens with all the magic, excitement and glamour conjured up by the words "Iowa caucuses." All the political experts — having gauged the mood of the state by dining with each other at essentially three Des Moines restaurants — agree that the Democratic nomination has already been locked up by feisty yet irritable genius Vermont governor Howard Dean, thanks to his two unbeatable weapons: (1) the Internet, and (2) college students wearing orange hats.