July, 2004 Edition

by Ms. Duh
Contributing Columnist

Indiana Duh and the Black Evil Mac Ninjas
A Summer Series in Six Installments

Chapter Five: I have the power!! Muhahahahaha.

Uh oh.

That's the themeline through my life. I should have T-shirts printed up saying, "Uh oh". I should sue that Chef Boyardee® for stealing "Uh Oh, Spaghettios®" from me. Uh oh comes out of my mouth more times than farts shoot out of a dog who just ate a box of bad kilbasas.

And "rm -R *.*" was a big uh oh. But being about as familiar with unix as I am with, say, the collected works of N'Sync, I didn't know just exactly what I should be uh ohing about. I only had that feeling that something was about to happen, and it wasn't that I was going to be receiving a free latte.

"rm -R *.*" in unix terms, roughly means "erase every friggin file you have".

See what I mean by uh oh?

Except nothing was happening on my machine. Not a blessed thing.

"WHAT?" says a voice in the corner. "OH my GOD" says another one. And then a whole cacophany of voices exclaimed various expletives and noises. I slowly looked up from my laptop, to see everyone in the place with an electronic device grimacing, some whacking laptops with voracity, some throttling cell phones, and one poor Eurotrash chic geeky poet type starting to cry in his double mocha half and half with extra foam.

The hamsters in my brain started to run like crazy. "Whuuuuu?" I thought? I looked at my screen. My half naked David Boreanaz Desktop picture was still looking back at me, and my menu bar clock was still going. I hadn't went down, I wasn't cursing and crying. Then one hamster fell off the little wheel in my head. "Could that file I had opened have done this?" To avoid being singled out as the odd man out, I dimmed my screen and let out a stream of profanities.

I went to the next file. The dozen or so IT guys that I had ever met in my life are shouting in my head at me. Some say to click on it, most are giving me that LOOK - and if you ever knew any IT guy in some capacity of authority, you know that look - the unspoken smirk that tells you, you are or have been doing something SOOO stupid, that anyone, provided they spent all of their free time playing with computers rather than other children, would have known not to do. Don't know that look? Go to any science fiction convention, go up to a lonely fat man dressed up as a Klingon and ask him which Star Wars movie character he's suppose to be.

And you know, most of the time, I would just snort "Meh" and go on to click the file, possibly destroying the world or at least my credit rating.

But this time, I had decided, "oh..... better not."

I packed up my nasty yuppie beverage and laptop and headed out to find an expert. One who could help me unravel this mystery. Felt like I should have a big old dog and some Scooby snacks. I headed for the door.

I reached the glass door just in time to see a coupla Erkels in black jammies.

Uh oh.

Chapter Six: I'm SO entrenched in intrigue and action, how can I possibly finish this in six installments....



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