Alright everyone, heres a couple of articles from some magazines... I did not write any of these myself, so ya.. u got a prob with it, take it to the editor, lol...

Its a !@#$% Man's World

A true story, in 3 parts..

Part 1:

I go to my car the other night and it is a big, cool lookin doorstop. That is, the key goes into the ignition and then, quite dramatically, nothing happens... It has something to do with an antitheft chip that GM puts into its ignition keys. The car is deader than Napster. I take a train home and the next day bring in another key, which works just fine.

The idea of having only one key standing between me and a totally moribund Camaro gives me agita, however. A second key is clearly advisable. Like all great executives, I delegate the problem to my chief operating officer in these matters, my wife -- who is, as u may guess, a woman.. lol

Part 2:

My wife, who as u may imagine has other things to do and knows as little about automobile antitheft systems as I do, calls the local dealer, where we purchased the car. She reaches a guy in the service department. The conversation goes a little like this:

"Good morning," says my wife. "My husbands ignition key wont start his 2000 Camaro. We think it has something to do with an antitheft chip in the key itself. The second key works fine, and we'd like to get a copy so that we still have a backup. The car is still on warranty, so the new key should be free."

"I dont think I get what u mean, honey," says the service guy.

"Well theres this chip that doesnt let the car start, right? Built into the key?"

"Chip?" says the guy. "Youre gonna have to bring the car in and we'll see."

"You cant make a new key without the car?"

"Nah, u gotta leave the car here. Hold on a minute," says the guy and goes away for a while. The he comes back.

"Then.... can i make an appointment?" my wife inquires.

"You can come in any time after eight" says the guy brusquely. "then its first come, first served."

"Really?" says my wife. "you cant have a solid appointment?"

"Well honey," says the guy, "Its not like everybody is just standing around the place waiting for your arrival."

My wife is no consumer cream puff. "You have some kind a problem?" he says quietly.

"No," says the guy, immediately snapping to. "Is there some way i could be serving u that im not?"

"Whats your name?" says my wife.

"Tom," say the service guy.

My wife then calls me and tells me the whole story. I think i kno whats going on. my wife is getting womans treatment. Im determined to handle this like a man.

Part 3:

I call the dealer back. Tom is not in, having accomplished his goal for the morning, i.e., nothing. I get Barry.

"Barry," I say in my nastiest tone imaginable. "U have some !@#$% named Tom who works there?"

"Yes sir," says Barry. "Is there a problem?"

"Yeah," i say with maximum truculence. "you're damn right theres a !@#$% problem Your guy was rude to my wife and is wasting our !@#$% time, thats the problem."

"Im very sorry, sir," says Barry. "how can i be of assistance to u right now?"

"I need to have a key made for my camaro. i need it for today."

"We can do that."

"And u don't need the car to do it, right?"

"No sir. We need your VIN number."

"You have the !@#$% VIN number. You sold me the car, didnt u Barry?"

"Yes sir, then we have your VIN number, and there wont be a problem at all. When would u like the key? Later today?"

"I can pick it up tomorrow morning."

"It'll be here for u sir," says Barry. "Say..... about 8am?"

"Im very busy, Barry. Make sure its there on time."

"Yes, sir. No problem, sir. See u then, sir."

"You kno, Barry," I say, "its been very nice to deal with u. But that guy Tom has some kind of problem dealing with women. u ought to do something about it."

"Hes a relative of the owner," says Barry.

I go to the dealer at 7:45 am the following day. The key is ready. Barry is waiting for me. As i arrive, dressed like a businessman in a suit and tie, and the entire service department begins orbiting me as the moons orbit Jupiter. Barry offers me coffee. Another gentleman prepares the warranty work so i wont have to pay a dime. I scowl and prowl around as if im about to yell at someone. I look around for anybody named Tom. No one fitting that description is there. Im not surprised. Who would want to deal with a jerk like me? Im out of there in five minutes, tops, with my new key and added appreciation of what its like to live in a world where white, nasty men in business suits get all the breaks, particularly if they kno how the !@#$% game is played!

Love Me, Love My Spam

What does the daily onslaught of spam tell us about ppl who use the internet?  a perusal of my inbox might be instructive. but ill tell u from the get-go its not pretty. if my spam is any indication, internet users have some serious problems, and not all of them are psychological.

First, the seem to be overly interested in establishing contact with former high school classmates. now i dont kno about u, but my high school classmates were a pretty motley bunch. the ones i actually remember i still talk to now and then - all 2 of them. the thing thats interesting about this spam is that when u click on the offer to see "7 of yr classmates for free" u get a form on how to pay money to see them.

So i guess we have our first theme here. internet marketers have determined that internet users are stupid.

Further proof of this postulate comes from a spamster who offers me a good deal on the pot with the whole on top as seen on tv. its a pot for ppl who dont kno how o use a colander. it looks very convenient, and im going to be sure to click on that link really soon, as soon as i feel confident in giving my credit card information to an organization that sends me spam daily offering me a pot for ppl who dont kno how to use a colander, one that u can order on tv every night and is also available at my local mall at a kiosk dedicated to products that one may obtain only on television.

And right after i give my credit card info to those ppl, i guess i'll also have my brain completely removed and give them my banking data so that i can secure the lowest mortgage rates in the world outside of the former Yugoslavia, and give them my mailing info to collect that cool $1,000 in grocery coupons that ive been cleared for after, im sure, a rigorous investigation of my qualifications for this perk.

In addition to being stupid, spam marketing pundits must have also ascertained, internet users are insecure, possibly for good reasons. a good number would seem to have yellow teeth, because dozens of companies have been kind enough to suggest ways that i might whiten mine. many, in addition, would appear to be bald, or at least balding, given the profusion of opportunities i am offered to enjoy painless hair replacement or simply thwart my genetic heritage and regrow thick, lustrous hair. i have some hair that is thick, but only in certain places. and as for lustrous, well, what is anymore?

Legions of online citizens are also fat, if u take the number of products aimed at such ppl to be any indication. i am not fat. but i do have big bones. i find it kind of insulting to be continually offered products that will help me drop ugly pounds of adipose tissue, usually pills with names like Mete-Muscle. theres no way of knowing whats in them, but i assume theyve been thoroughly tested by the FDA before they are allowed to go out over the internet to millions of ppl.

But most important, i suppose, is the information that internet users are distressingly small in a number of key areas that can drastically affect social opportunities. i am at a loss to soft-pedal these inadequacies, so i must urge any queasy reader to stop here and go to some other page [on Jeremys fabulous website]. because we're talking about the softest software of all.

Thats right, after months of studying the subject, i have come to the conclusion that internet users have tiny penises. at least the men do. at least 50% of my spam was on the subject that deals with that condition. im starting to take it personally, but theres really no reason for that. i lived a long time before it occurred to me that i might want to be, u kno, improved in that area, or even that such a thing was possible. now i dont kno. why are they sending me this stuff? and in such profusion? do they kno something i dont?

I have literally hundreds of offers from various companies that make clear whats possible in this new and exciting arena of medical practice. i clicked on one of the links once, and it sent me to a page with a picture of a lovely young woman stretching in a bathing suit, but there wasnt a whole lot of medical discussion. so its unclear to me how it works. it must, though, or why would dozens of companies be promising benifits?

Right now im a little confused about what to do. i wish the spam would stop, u kno, but i dont think its going to. this morning i had 61 messages in my inbox, and most of them had to do with my software. i dont kno what to think. i guess ill respond either to the free African safari ive been offered or the 2 week free stay in a condo in the Bahamas, and let it percolate.

You dont want to let the good things in life pass u by.

Love Bug Bites

Right now im angry, but i'll get over it. i dont kno why i should feel so ashamed. im a victim here,, more than anything, but thats what this kind of experience does to u. scrambles u up. messes with your mind.

maybe the worst part is that everybody knows about it. i was infected by a terrible virus, u see, and because of the nature of the bug, the fact became common knowledge throughout my social and professional milieu, including a bunch of ppl with whom i have only the most casual of relations. so its embarrassing. not to mention that my hard drive was almost entirely fried.

What kind of ppl do these things to their innocent fellow citizens of the world? i think we kno, dont we? evildoers, thats who. not big ones, perhaps, but creatures from the dark side nonetheless.

The day began much like any other. as u may know, im a desk jockey, particularly now, even tho flying is still so much more safer than driving, right? sure. when im not on the phone, im e-mailing ppl, writing memos, assembling reports, and doing all the functions appropriate to my sedentary existence. and while thats going on, in the background, ive gotten into the habit of downloading MP3s.

For a long time i was content to take old stuff off Napster, may it rest in peace. okay, some ppl think thats wrong, and maybe it is, but i really cant see how Jelly Roll Morton and Claude Debussy were injured by more ppl hearing their music. u cant tell me that 99% of what was being shared could be found between Aguilera and Zamfir at your local Wal-Mart.

Napster is gone now, the music Gestapo have taken it away. but there are still a bunch of file sharing services through with ppl can trade songs other the internet. over the course of the last year, it has amused me to assemble quite a subdirectory of tunes. about...... 5000, to be exact.

it is often the little things that keep u same when youve been working in the same office for a number of years. some guys collect pens. others putt on imaginary greens. my list of MP3s was one of those things. the It came... and said, I LOVE YOU, and destroyed everything it touched.

Heres how it happened. id been hunting around for services that replaced Napsters sleazy function, and id found a few that did, only not half as well. that day i thought id found another one. im not going to tell u its name, because maybe it wasnt the site that gave me my virus, altho i kno it was, goddamn it.

I set up the service to harvest some 250 tunes off the computers of those who were online with me. i didnt have to do anything but search around until i found stuff i wanted and click a couple OKs. raw MP3s started pouring onto my system.

My mistake was deciding to listen to one. i believe it was by the Mamas and Papas. "gee," i thought. "i havent heard this song in years" i double clicked on it. and the world exploded before my eyes.

All of u who work in an office will understand the profound effect it has when your computer screen goes blooey. "click click," u say, and suddenly cascades of inscrutable error messages begin pouring forth from the bowels of a system u thought u knew. it is, after all, a machine. and machines are predictable, right? but machines are only as good as the software that runs them, or the evildoers who screw them up. in this case, the Microsoft Outlook that provides the architecture for our email was instantaneously corrupted by the worm hidden in the MP3 file by some hostile, pimply geek with one hand on the keyboard, and the other in his pants.

At the speed of thought, both my office desktop and my BlackBerry handheld device started scrolling boldfaced messages that begun with the word UNDELIVERABLE and continued with some other lettuce, including, in the subject box, the words I LOVE YOU. the mind cannot comprehend how fast those ominous error messages with their inappropriate, affectionate salutation flowed from the software onto my screen. first ten, then a hundred. two thousand times and still only seconds had passed! UNDELIVERABLE, said the message over and over again, delivered to my inbox with supernatural velocity.

"ive got a virus," i thought stupidly. and as soon as that solid concept surfaced from the mental goo that lines my cerebrum, no more than 5 seconds, tops, after the attack had started, i bent over and turned off my computer. boom. and that was that, right?

No. even after my computer was off, the conquering worm that Flaccid Frank had introduced into my system was cavorting within our silicon ecosystem, across the nation, the world, and all divisions of the Company. by turning off the computer, i limited the outbreak. but there were more that 5000 ppl out there who were learning that somebody names STANLY BING wanted to say I LOVE YOU. 

The phones started ringing. hector in Tampa was calling be to tell me he thought i might have a virus. anna-marie from Corporate Headquarters was inquiring if i really wanted the chairman to know I LOVE YOU. my BlackBerry buzzed and buzzed and buzzed thousands as thousands of viruses came back UNDELIVERABLE. that was the good news. security software was ripping the virus attachment itself from my emails. all that the world was receiving was my inane message of devotion.

The help desk came and helped. they ran a scan. it found three files on my hard drive that were infected and had to be deleted. then it found 15. and then, in its final pass, 3500 beloved tunes, gleaned from the internet over more than a year, showed up as corrupt. to let us kno they must be deleted, the scanning software superimposed a crawling, roach like insect over each affected file. "disgusting, inst it?" said larry from the help desk. about half of my musical library was gone forever. ah well.

Im cured now, although several weeks later my inbox is still filling up with amusing messages. "lets meet behind the water cooler at dusk for a quickie," the vice president of Finance emailed only yesterday. hes a guy in his 50s who weighs in at about 220. hes just one of hundreds of yukmeisters who have checked in. im a laughingstock i guess.

Compared with everyone else, the only casualty in the end is my confidence in and affection for the internet. there is certainly a ray of light here for the recording industry, which seems to have inadvertently created a powerful ally in its fight to eradicate unauthorized music from our computers. where countless copyright lawyers have failed, Worm Dude has succeeded. this might just be the point at which terrorism and capitalism meet and shake hands. i hope theyre happy with each other.

And just for the record, i dont care about whether the teeny beanie who did this downtrodden is some way, or feels excluded from the global establishment, or has excellent reasons for hating everything i represent. there arent caves enough in the world to hide him, he'll get his

Wont he?