So, it was a dark and stormy night. . . . .blah blah blah, fast forward to the doorbell ringing. . . . .Thinking it was one last group of teenage kids trying to get a bit more candy, I got up out of my chair, walked to the front door, slowly twisted the knob and opened the door, ready for the chorus of “Trick of Treat”.
Instead. . . . . . . .when I opened the door, I found nobody there. Puzzled, I looked around the porch, then out towards the yard and still did not see anyone. I stepped out onto the front porch and stumbled across something laying on the doormat. Using the front porch railing to steady myself, I looked down to the mat and saw a laptop sitting there with a note taped to the top of it. Odd, I thought, why would someone put a laptop on my front porch, ring the doorbell, and run off?
Positive I was safe from Osama Bin Laden singling me out to be the victim of a laptop bomb, I felt safe enough to reach down and pick the laptop up.
I stepped inside the house, closed and locked the door, and carried the laptop into the kitchen. Taking the note off the laptop, I unfolded the piece of paper, and began reading. . . . .
I have nowhere else to turn, and I am hoping you can help me out. This laptop is truly possessed by the devil and it needs an exorcism. It used to be such a good laptop. It had a fast boot up cycle, and traditionally out booted all the other laptops on the block. But over time it has become slow and sluggish. Once it finally does boot up, is when I really notice the true evil of the laptop. (if this were a movie, this is the part when you would hear the dramatic organ music and I would get a horrified look on my face, while backing away slowly from the possessed laptop).
Every time I try to go to the Internet, windows pop up everywhere telling me my laptop is infected, and to “click here” to fix it. My email is full of messages trying to entice me to buy Viagra, confirm my banking information, or apply for a zero interest loan.
ComputerDiva, I am ashamed to admit this, but I have no virus software on my laptop. (more loud organ music and a terrified look on my face) I know what you are thinking. . . . .but I truly felt that all the hype about virus’s infecting your computer was just that. . . hype. I now know better, and I am ready to accept the consequences and do what it takes to fix my baby.
Oh, and by the way, a few times I have gotten this blue screen with white writing on it. It usually says “Stop:” with a bunch of numbers at the top.
ComputerDiva, you are my very last hope. I know you can pull out your bag of tricks and fix my laptop and bring it back to it’s glory days of speed and reliability.
I had to read the note a few times to make sure what Matt was saying was actually correct. It is incomprehensible to me to leave a laptop or any computer so vulnerable and helpless. It is like sending your child out naked to play on the freeway. It is fraught with danger.
Taking a deep breath, I resisted the urge to pull out a pen and piece of paper and write a note beginning with: Dear moron Matt.
I slowly walked back towards the laptop sitting on the counter, pulled out a stool and sat down. Lifting the lid, I reached across and pressed the power button. Contemplating my next step, I decided to dig into that glass of Cabernet I poured before the doorbell interrupted me.
I was truly horrified by what unfolded in the next several minutes. After what seemed like an eternity, the laptop (now dubbed Regan), finally booted into Windows. The digital version of the green puke spew unfolded as pop up after pop up appeared on the screen. Most of them inviting me to rather tasteless websites to try out their wares. Matt Matt Matt, I thought. I hope you protect your girlfriend better than you did your laptop.
I next ventured into Matt’s Outlook, and found that he was correct in his comment that it was riddled with messages about unspeakable subjects. What I saw was truly horrifying.
After careful consideration, I decided there was only one way to exorcise Regan. The full lobotomy just had to take place.
I carefully carried Regan up to my office where I had more room to spread out and perform the exorcism. I applied the anesthesia, opened up the cranium and accessed the recovery partition. With finesse and skill, I managed to wipe the part of the brain that had become diseased and useless. I then breathed life back into the newly cleaned tissue by re-installing the operating system and all the essential drivers.
After making sure all pieces were in place, I flipped the switch and watched Regan breath back to life. What a beauty she was. All demons were gone. Regan booted up in lightning fast time. Gone were the pop ups.
My next order of business was to inoculate Regan with the magic potion that would keep her youthful for many years to come. Kaspersky was his name, and virus protection is his game. Kaspersky did a fine job surrounding Regan and keeping the demons and ghouls out. Kaspersky did not even slow Regan down, as some virus protection programs often do. Kaspersky is truly the king of virus protection.
In fact, Regan was humming along so nicely, I thought she would make an excellent addition to my work force. She was truly a workhorse laptop, and I shuddered at the thought of putting her back into an abusive situation.
Satisfied that Regan was running at tip-top shape, I sat down and wrote the following note:
I am sorry to say that Regan did not survive the exorcism. The dark forces took over and the only way to stop them was to burn the laptop at the stake.
I am truly sorry for your loss. When you feel strong enough to move on and bring another laptop into your life, you might want to consider a Mac.
With that task completed, I settled back into my chair, glass of Cabernet and remote in hand, and began wondering what would happen next on Gray’s Anatomy. . . . . . . .