Computer virus...

We’ve all become computer literate and found that we enjoy having everything from research to shopping right at our finger tips. We can purchase books, CDs, antiques, baby clothing and gourmet food without leaving the comfort of our recliners. We can research whether there were fly swats in 1919 and read the news before it hits the newspapers.

It’s all amazing until one of those virus things hits and then it’s a deluxe panic in ultra high gear. The crazy thing is that there are millions of viruses with names like dark avenger, anthraxia and amoebia mania. They are all guaranteed to gum up the works inside the computer quicker than pouring a two liter bottle of Dr Pepper through the vent holes.

The resident bad boy a while back was something called “Badtimes.” We were warned to take anyone who sent that deadly thing to us right off our Christmas card list. It was so bad that if someone sent it on purpose, “he needed killin’” was a justifiable defense in the courtroom.

Here’s how we were to deal with it if we received it.

Delete it immediately. Do not open. Do not call tech support. Do not finish your cup of coffee. Delete the sorry sucker.

It was guaranteed to erase your hard drive and delete anything on disks within twenty feet of your computer. If it did crawl into your computer and set up housekeeping it would demagnetize the stripes on every single credit card you have and not one of the numbers would work on the stop from your arm chair places. It didn’t care if you were willing to outbid the $2.99 price on genuine unbent caps from seven ounce Coke bottles. A little window would pop up and words would come across the screen saying, “Sorry darlin’, but you’ve been bitten by Badtimes and there is no tolerance.”

It could reprogram your ATM access code, screw up Netflex and use subspace field harmonic technology to scratch any CD’s you wanted to play. It showed no mercy on my Floyd Cramer CD but didn’t put a single scratch on the kid’s acid rock CD. Go figure.

It could possibly recalibrate the refrigerator’s coolness setting so all the ice cream could melt, your milk curdle and the cheese grow moldy within ten minutes time.

It could program your telephone to auto dial your mother-in-law every hour on the hour and had the ability to put antifreeze in the fish tank.

It promised that it could and would replace your shampoo with Nair and your Nair with Rogaine. It could even remove forbidden tags from your mattress and pillows and replace your skimmed milk with whipping cream.

It was a serious thing but not as bad as some of the new viruses. If anyone even mentions the idea of a new badtimes virus by any name at all, you are to go straight to your computer, unplug it from the wall, throw salt over your left shoulder, turn around three times to the left and twice to the right, kiss a black cat’s ear and burn six red candles.

And you might want to send this post to all your friends so they won’t take you off their Christmas card list for withholding important virus information.