Like every other techie, I couldn't wait to get my hands on the just released, state-of-the-art, 64-bit, 128 mega-RAM, 48x, 24/7, in your face, out of your control Microself Windows 2001. Yes, that was me at the front of the line in our local Get-a-Life Software store, waiting, waiting, for the moment when the future went on sale. And now that the future is installed in my computer, there's no looking back. To be truthful, I don't use computers. They use me. They use me as a portal between the glittering new world of information and the mundane world where ordinary people have to eat and talk and sometimes be sad. Computers use my nimble fingers to unlock their codes, releasing raw information into the ether. Taking my mission as seriously as I do, I wanted the most up-to-the-second tool on the market. And that's why, the day after I installed Windows 2001, I was back at Get-a-Life buying the upgrade, Windows 2001, version 2.0. With Windows 2001 2.0, I don't process information. I download it into my body. Using Windows' revolutionary US-ME serial port installed in my navel, I plug myself into my computer. Like the umbilical cord that fed me when I was mere flesh, the US-ME cable feeds raw data straight into my bloodstream. There it flows until it reaches the central processing unit I used to call my brain. And there, Windows' revolutionary Brain Bot - a tiny microchip embedded in my cerebrum -- turns that raw data into wisdom that makes me smarter, richer, and so much wiser than the rest of you. Did you know that the capital of Uganda is Kampala? That Soupy Sales had a lion puppet named Pookie? That the square root of 3 is 1.732? And that today's kids will spend 23 years of their lives on the Internet swimming through vital data like this? O, it's a changing world, my friend. When you leave your Silicon Valley job for two weeks of R & R, take a cruise to Antarctica, step onto an ice floe and see penguins crowded around a laptop checking out The Weather Channel, get worried! But I'm not worried, I'm wired. Wired to the upgraded upgrade I bought last weekend. Windows 2001 3.0 is the one with HandPrint, the printer driver that drives my digital age. Using HandPrint, I don't need an ordinary printer. I just click a button on my wrist and my hand begins scrolling across a blank page printing my raw data in any of 1,257 perfect fonts. The moving hand writes, and having writ, gives way to ear-mail. I know, I know. You all have e-mail accounts. You can e-mail Bill Gates if you want. The Pope. Your dog if you're on vacation in Antarctica. But only Windows 2001 4.0, which I bought yesterday, has ear-mail. When I hear a voice from the ether saying "You've got mail!" I run to the nearest phone. Then I run my ear-mail cord from the phone to an input implanted below my left ear. Within seconds, I'm hearing the mail read by a soothing voice that sounds a little like James Earl Jones on Prozac. To reply, I simply speak my answer, press the same button on my wrist, and presto. I unplug and go back to my daily duty of becoming richer, smarter, and wiser. There's also a wireless version of e-mail but that won't come out until version 5.0 is released tomorrow. I plan to get in line at Get-a-Life sometime before midnight. But where, you ask, is this wireless world headed? To be truthful, I'm not sure, but it sure is fun. Perhaps when I'm even richer, smarter, and wiser than I am now, thanks to Windows 2001 6.0 due out this weekend, I'll have an answer. Until then, you'll have to excuse me. I have mail.

Loading, loading, loading, Damn this Java coding, Feeling of foreboding, Reload! The Applet says it's running, And that big gray block is stunning, But the screen remains as blank as my mind Netscape crash, Boot 'em up! Net goes down, Dial back! Logging on, Still off-line! Reload! Try it now, Still not up! Netscape crashed, What, again? Boot it up, Log it in, Reload! Tighten, tweaking', smoothen, They say the codes improvin', So how come I'm still usin' "reload"? I'm tired of all this waitin', Just give me .gif animation, This code is only good for wasting time, The applet says it's running, And gray block is quite stunning, But the screen remains as blank as my mind,

New York -- People for Ethical Treatment of Software (PETS) announced today that seven more software companies have been added to the group's "watch list" of companies that regularly practice software testing. "There is no need for software to be mistreated in this way so that companies like these can market new products," said Ken Grandola, spokesperson for PETS. "Alternative methods of testing these products are available." According to PETS, these companies force software to undergo lengthy and arduous tests, often without rest, for hours or days at a time. Employees are assigned to "break" the software by any means necessary, and inside sources report that they often joke about "torturing" the software. "It's no joke," said Grandola. "Innocent programs, from the day they are compiled, are cooped up in tiny rooms and "crashed" for hours on end. They spend their whole lives on dirty, ill-maintained computers, and are unceremoniously deleted when they're not needed anymore." Grandola said the software is kept in unsanitary conditions and is infested with bugs. "We know that alternatives to this horror exist," he said, citing industry giant Microsoft Corporation as a company that has become successful without resorting to software testing.

Once upon a midnight dreary, fingers cramped and vision bleary, System manuals piled high and wasted paper on the floor, Longing for the warmth of bed sheets, still I sat there doing spreadsheets. Having reached the bottom line I took a floppy from the drawer, I then invoked the SAVE command and waited for the disk to store, Only this and nothing more. Deep into the monitor peering, long I sat there wond'ring, fearing, Doubting, while the disk kept churning, turning yet to churn some more. But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token. "Save!" I said, "You cursed machine! Save my data from before!" One thing did the phosphors answer, only this and nothing more, Just, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?" Was this some occult illusion, some maniacal intrusion? These were choices undesired, ones I'd never faced before. Carefully I weighed the choices as the disk made impish noises. The cursor flashed, insistent, waiting, baiting me to type some more. Clearly I must press a key, choosing one and nothing more, From "Abort, Retry, Ignore?" With fingers pale and trembling, slowly toward the keyboard bending, Longing for a happy ending, hoping all would be restored, Praying for some guarantee, timidly, I pressed a key. But on the screen there still persisted words appearing as before. Ghastly grim they blinked and taunted, haunted, as my patience wore, Saying "Abort, Retry, Ignore?" I tried to catch the chips off guard, and pressed again, but twice as hard. I pleaded with the cursed machine: I begged and cried and then I swore. Now in mighty desperation, trying random combinations, Still there came the incantation, just as senseless as before. Cursor blinking, angrily winking, blinking nonsense as before. Reading, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?" There I sat, distraught, exhausted, by my own machine accosted. Getting up I turned away and paced across the office floor. And then I saw a dreadful sight: a lightning bolt cut through the night. A gasp of horror overtook me, shook me to my very core. The lightning zapped my previous data, lost and gone forevermore. Not even, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?" To this day I do not know, the place to which lost data go. What demonic nether world us wrought where lost data will be stored, Beyond the reach of mortal souls, beyond the ether, into black holes? But sure as there's C, Pascal, Lotus, Ashton-Tate and more, You will one day be left to wander, lost on some Plutonian shore, Pleading, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"

One day, a mechanical engineer, electrical engineer, chemical engineer, and computer engineer were driving down the street in the same car when it broke down.The mechanical engineer said, "I think a rod broke."The chemical engineer said, "The way it sputtered at the end, I think it's not getting enough gas."The electrical engineer said, "I think there was a spark and something's wrong with the electrical system."All three turned to the computer engineer and said, "What do you think?"The computer engineer said, "I think we should all get out and then get back in."

Q: How many internet mail list subscribers does it take to change a light bulb? A: 1,331:

Q: My Etch-A-Sketch has a distorted display. A: Pick it up and shake it. Q: My Etch-A-Sketch has all of these funny little lines all over the screen. A: Pick it up and shake it. Q: How do I turn my Etch-A-Sketch off? A: Pick it up and shake it. Q: What's the shortcut for Undo? A: Pick it up and shake it. Q: How do I create an empty New Document window? A: Pick it up and shake it. Q: How do I Exit without Saving? A: Pick it up and shake it. Q: How do I set the background and foreground to the same color? A: Pick it up and shake it. Q: What is the proper procedure for rebooting my Etch-A-Sketch? A: Pick it up and shake it. Q: How do I delete a document on my Etch-A-Sketch? A: Pick it up and shake it. Q: How do I keep from losing my Etch-A-Sketch documents in the middle of my work? A: Stop shaking it.

QUESTION: Where do the characters go when I use my backspace or delete them on my computer? ANSWER: The characters go to different places, depending on whom you ask:

Reaching the end of a job interview, the human resources person asked a young engineer fresh out of MIT, "And what starting salary were you looking for?"The engineer said, "In the neighborhood of $125,000 a year, depending on the benefits package." The interviewer said, "Well, what would you say to a five-week vacation, 14 paid holidays, full medical and dental, company matching your retirement fund to 50% of your salary, and a company car leased every two years, say, a red Corvette?"The young engineer sat up straight and said, "Wow! Are you kidding?"The interviewer replied, "Yeah, but you started it."

Signs You Are "Webbed Out" From Using The Web: Your opening line is, "So what's your home page address?Your best friend is someone you've never met.You see a beautiful sunset and you expect to see "Enhanced for IE 5.5" on the clouds.You are overcome with disbelief, anger and finally depressed when you encounter a Web page with no links.You feel driven to consult the "Cool Page of the Day" on your wedding day.You are driving on a dark and rainy night when you hydroplane on a puddle, sending your car careening toward a flimsy guard rail that separates you from the precipice of a rocky cliff and certain death. You frantically search for the "Back" button.You visit "The Really Big Button that doesn't do Anything" again and again and again.Your dog has his own Web page.So does your goldfish.When you read a magazine, you have an irresistible urge to click on the underlined passages.You find yourself typing "com" after every period when using a word processor.comYou turn off your modem and get this awful empty feeling, like you just pulled the plug on a loved one.You start introducing yourself as "Jon at I-I Net dot com"Your wife drapes a blond wig over your monitor to remind you of what she looks like.All of your friends have an @ in their names.You can't call your mother...she doesn't have a modem.Your phone bill comes to your doorstep in a box.You laugh at people with 2400 baud modems.You move into a new house and decide to Netscape before you landscape.You refer to going to the bathroom as downloading.You tell the cab driver you live at http://123.elm.street/house/bluetrim.htmlYour spouse makes a new rule: "The computer cannot come to bed."You ask a plumber how much it would cost to replace the chair in front of your computer with a commode.You start tilting your head sideways to smile. :^)You turn on your computer, and turn off your spouse.Your spouse says communication is important in a marriage...so you buy another computer, and install a second phone line so the two of you can chat.You begin to wonder how on earth your service provider is allowed to call 200 hours per month "unlimited."