The Rural Voice, 1994-03, Page 30Sometimes
I really
want to
boot my
computer
BY ARTHUR KIRKBY
Jchcat at poker, and computers
don't let you cheat. It's no
wonder guys like me hate
computers. How can you possibly
trust something that doesn't cheat?
Sure it's easy NOW. Now that I
know how to settle these minor
differences that my computer and I
have. A quick clout up the side of the
monitor. It reminds me of the
cartoon I once saw of the guy called
in on the carpet by the boss. "The
computer tells me you've been
kicking it again, Beesley." Well,
with the computer at home, I'm the
boss, and I'll settle with it ANY
WAY I WANT. But originally, I
didn't Iikc that. Originally ...
All I wanted was a chcap
computer. But that's like saying all I
wanted was a trustworthy politician.
It's a contradiction in terms. The best
you can hope for these days is a
trustworthy computer and a cheap
politician.
The fact that I was even
considering getting a computer was
remarkable in its own right. I'm of
the generation which still thinks of
computers as a form of magic. As
marvellous as an income tax refund.
And about as reliable.
Of course, I remember calculators
with cranks on them. Mind you, now
26 THE RURAL VOICE
that I think about it, most of the
computers I've seen operating have
cranks on them, too. So I guess
things haven't changed all that much.
Anyway, I paid a visit to the local
computer store to share with them the
joy and wonder of explaining
computers to me, and, if they were
REALLY lucky, selling me the
cheapest one they had in stock.
The discussion didn't start off all
that well. The clerk behind the
counter — mistakenly sensing the
presence of a kindred soul — launched
into a flood of high-tech computer-
ese.
"So you want a PC? Here's one
with 356K RAM with a 10 meg hard
disk, dual drive, using 3 1/2 inch
2HD floppies."
"!?!" I stared at him. If only he'd
said something about overhead cam
and dual exhaust, I'd at least have
had an inkling about what he was
telling me.
So it was either the blank look I
was radiating, or the sudden
realization that he was talking to
someone who thought Nintendo was
a martial art, but something suddenly
brought him down to my level.
He pointed over the corner and
said, "Have you ever used one of
those?" I was a little surprised.
There was a screen and keyboard on
a table.
"Which one?" I asked. "The
typewriter or the T.V.?"
he kid said something about it
T
going to be a long day. But he
was wrong. After all, I didn't
need anything fancy. Just something
for a little word processing. No
graphics or spreadsheets. And
certainly no games. The kids have
their own computer for games, and I
leave it strictly alone. The days are
long gone when I could beat the kids
at games. Except maybe poker. But
then, of course, I cheat at poker, and
computers don't let you cheat. It's no
wonder guys like me hate computers
— and don't trust them. How can you
possibly trust something that doesn't
cheat?
In any event, it's all done now.
Everything is bought and installed,
and I've gone from computer infancy
to ... well, maybe adolescence. The
clerk sold me a computer with
training wheels. Whenever I tell it to
do something, it says, "Are you sure
you want to do that? I wouldn't do
that if I were you." I could get to
hate this thing — a whole lot.
Frankly, to boot the computer
doesn't mean what it ought to —
except, of course, around my place.0