_____Letters from Camp 

This is one for all of us computer users,who truly understand the magic 

of it all.

One of those "Dear Jen" letters...

Dear Jenny,

Ann Landers wouldn't print this. I have nowhere else to turn. I have to 

get the word out. Warn other parents. I must be rambling on. Let me try 

and explain.

It's about my son, Billy. He's always been a good, normal ten-year-old 

boy. Well, last spring we sat down after dinner to select a summer camp 

for Billy. We sorted through the camp brochures. There were the usual 

camps with swimming, canoeing, games, singing by the campfire, you know. 

There were sports camps and specialty camps for weight reduction, music, 

military camps and camps that specialized in Tibetan knot tying. We 

tried to talk him into Camp Winnepoopoo. It's where he went last year. 

(He made an adorable picture out of painted pinto beans and macaroni). 

Billy would have none of it. Billy pulled a brochure out of his pocket. 

It was for a COMPUTER CAMP! We should have put our foot down right 

there, if only we had known. He left three weeks ago. I don't know 

what's happened. He's changed. I can't explain it. See for yourself.

These are some of my little Billy's letters.

Dear Mom,

The kids are dorky nerds. The food stinks. The computers are the only 

good part. We're learning how to program. Late at night is the best time 

to program, so they let us stay up.

Love, Billy.

**

Dear Mom,

Camp is O.K. Last night we had pizza in the middle of the night. We all 

get to choose what we want to drink. I drink Classic Coke. By the way, 

can you make Szechuan food? I'm getting used to it now. Gotta go, it's 

time for the flowchart class.

Love, Billy.

P.S. This is written on a word processor. Pretty swell, huh? It's spell 

checked, two.

**

Dear Mom,

Don't worry. We do regular camp stuff. We told ghost stories by the glow 

of the green computer screens. It was real neat. I don't have much of a 

tan 'cause we don't go outside very often. You can't see the computer 

screen in the sunlight anyway. That wimp camp I went to last year fed us 

weird food too. Lay off, Mom. I'm okay, really.

Love, Billy.

**

Dear Mom,

I'm fine. I'm sleeping enough. I'm eating enough. This is the best camp 

ever. We scared the counselor with some phony worm code. It was real 

funny. He got mad and yelled. Frederick says it's okay. Can you send 

more money? I spent mine on a pocket protector and a box of blank 

diskettes. I've got to chip in on the phone bill. Did you know that you 

can talk to people on a computer? 

Give my regards to Dad.

Love, Billy.

**

Dear Mother,

Forget the money for the telephone. We've got a way to not pay. Sorry I 

haven't written. I've been learning a lot. I'm real good at getting onto 

any computer in the country. It's really easy! I got into the 

university's in less than fifteen minutes. Frederick did it in five, 

he's going to show me how. Frederick is my bunk partner. He's really 

smart. He says that I shouldn't call myself Billy anymore. So, I'm not.

Signed, Bill.

**

Dear Mother,

How nice of you to come up on Parents Day. Why'd you get so upset? I 

haven't gained that much weight. The glasses aren't real. Everybody 

wears them. I was trying to fit in. Believe me, the tape on them is 

cool. I thought that you'd be proud of my program. After all, I've made 

some money on it. A publisher is sending a check for $30,000. Anyway, 

I've paid for the next six weeks of camp. I won't be home until late 

August.

Regards, Bill.

**

Mother,

Stop treating me like a child. True... physically I am only ten years 

old. It was silly of you to try to kidnap me. Do not try again. 

Remember, I can make your life miserable (i.e. the bank, credit bureau, 

and government computers). I am not kidding. O.K.? I won't write again, 

and this is your only warning. The emotions of this interpersonal 

communication drain me.

Sincerely, Bill.

****

See what I mean? It's been two weeks since I've heard from my little 

boy. What can I do, Jenny? I know that it's probably too late to save my 

little Billy. But, if by printing these letters you can save JUST ONE 

CHILD from a life of programming, please, I beg of you to do so.

Thank you very much,

Sally Gates, Concerned Parent

This was emailed to me, I love it! It was hilarious. For those of you who don't understand, Billy, is Bill Gates. (Some of my friends took a while to understand.) LOL 

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