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Computers are evil

I suspect I am not alone in my assessment of the so-called marvels of technology.

Many movies have been made about computers running rampant and destroying humanity. I say we are almost there.

The electronic beasts have effectively taken over the world and are in control of everything from traffic lights to international banking.

They were supposed to make life easier, but as my home computer proved this week, that’s like saying alcohol makes people wittier.

My computer had been acting up for some time and the other day it gave the electronic version of a death gurgle and shut down.

My computer at work is in good shape, but it still drives me crazy because, after all, it is a still a computer.

Then there is the perennial problem of the electronic terrors crashing without warning. One minute you are merrily working away, your fingers happily caressing the mouse and then - BAM – you are left staring at an error message.

I think I know why quirky little things happen when using the infernal machines: computers are evil.

More than once I have wished I could bring a computer to life just so I could have the pleasure of killing it.

“Hi, I’m your computer. I have just come to life.”

“Really, that’s great.”

Ka-boom.

“Reboot that.”

Acting as a buffer between feeble-minded computer users — I’m not mentioning any names — and the technologically bloated machines are the tech experts, who are sometimes referred to as geeks.

I would never call them that and have a deep and heart-felt respect for their astounding ability to communicate with said machine, and to correct whatever digital crisis the device may be enduring.

I really mean that. I am not just saying it because there’s a chance the company tech will read this and take offence at being called a geek.

Because if he were to take offence to the comment (which I am not making) the next time I go scampering to him for help, he might just stick his fingers in his ears and go, “La-la-la-la-la” until I went away.

Or worse, he might put his hands over his eyes and say, “Where’d the tech go? Where is he? He’s all gone.”

When it comes to fixing computers, I am lost after re-booting, which is the first thing I do no matter the problem.

Smoke and flames could be pouring from the hard drive and my first course of action would be to reboot. If rebooting doesn’t work, I might try hitting it on the side like the Fonz would have done.

I would like to add that never works on computers or anything else for that matter.

I would then think bad thoughts about the computer before running to our most beloved, in-house computer tech, who is not unlike a knight in shinning armour waiting to battle the evil, glitch-breathing dragon that has dared attack one of his flock.

One time, I explained the problem, but he was too busy to tend to the matter immediately, so he rattled off some possible solution and asked if I knew how to do it.

I said I didn’t have to know how to do it. That’s what he was for.

He corrected the problem in about four seconds.

I told him: “The least you could do was make it look difficult so I could salvage some shred of self worth. Maybe spend a whole minute fixing it or something, I mean, c’mon, will ya. Everybody is watching.”

Maybe I’ll just sit back and wait for this whole computer “fad” to end.

I have a feeling it’s going to be a long wait.



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About the Author

Darren Handschuh has been working as a writer and photographer in the media industry for the past 25 years. He is married, has three children, a dog and two cats (although he is not completely sure how that part happened).

He takes a humourous look at life, and has often said, “I might as well laugh at myself, everyone else does.” 

His writings have been compared to a collection of words from the English language assembled in a somewhat coherent manner. High praise indeed.

Life gives Darren plenty of material for his column, and no one is safe from his musings – especially himself. 

He regularly writes to his blog www.therudemonkey.blogspot.ca.



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The views expressed are strictly those of the author and not necessarily those of Castanet. Castanet does not warrant the contents.

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