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Volume 1 #8 August 23, 1999
I suppose I should take on this Y2K thing. Since, it seems to be frightening and bugging (excuse me, I couldn't resist) everyone. My significant other is, though he will never face up to it, a "computer addict". He sits there, raises one finger toward me and says: "Just a few more minutes, honey", which in computer time is at least four days in front of his "Lover Box". He hates when I refer to my mechanical rival that way. So, I will employ my other nomenclature: Goofy. That came about when he was hunkered over the keyboard typing Lord knows what and needed my skills in grammar. Well, the sucker (the computer I suppose) couldn't find goofy in any spell checker he tried. So, I did an Olympic leap to my prewar dictionary. And there it was. He grimaced and mumbled something derogatory in computereze. (I'd rather learn to speak Klingon!) My significant other is always saying: "There's nothing to this Y2K thing... just a bunch of bureaucrats (a word I never heard from his mouth before) trying to force us all to buy the essentials." Like: bottled water, nonperishables, food stuffs, and he's even been inserting the phrase: "We really should be thinking about purchasing a generator. You know how much you hate those thunderstorms and having to rely on candle light." Suddenly, a power outage seems romantic. I know what he's getting at: Goofy needs electricity. I'll go with it. I could not withstand helping him through computer chip detox. Besides, I have a CD player and I cannot live without my music and my ultimate pleasure: dancing. He still says: "There's not one morsel to worry about." Then, why is he considering semi-draining our bank accounts? My theory is: that when we hit the new millennium we will have that oft predicted atomic holocaust. Some maniacal nut will not be able to resist pushing that "Red Button". After the nuclear dust settles and we crawl out of our hide outs, we will be greeted by mutants. They will gaze at my alabaster skin, long legs, dark hair and immediately claim me. My significant other will not be offered the same. His mother and I both think he is attractive... but face it - mutants are going to be a lot more particular and not motivated by pure blind love. I will rule as Princess next to the King Mutant. (Who bears a striking resemblance to the very fine actor Anthony Zerbe. Somehow, he always winds up in these post apocalyptic flicks.) I promise that I will smuggle all of the untainted food supplies that the mutants were much more clever at hoarding to my uh... oh, yeah... significant other. I have not a question left unsolved. Y2K! Answer: Way Too much KRAP!!

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©1999 Carol Ann Carson
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