Death List
There is just so much garbage on the Internet, isn't there? I'm not sure that Al Gore, when he invented the Net, believed that it would come to this.
We have two computers in the house - the one in my office which is supposed to be used exclusively for work, and the one in the kid's room where all sorts of Fantasy Sports Leagues, Face book accounts, and PlayStation activities can be handled.
We worked the split this way because a couple of years back Matt downloaded Internet games that locked up the computer for a couple of days and threatened the money coming in.
A couple of days ago I entered my office to see my wife on the computer with a fake farm on the screen. Evidently there's a game where you build your farm.
"Why are you using that computer for games?" I asked gently.
"I'm not downloading anything," Kathy said.
I was just returning from work so I wasn't my usual Happy-Go-Lucky self.
"That's the work computer," I reminded, "and we need it to function for us to eat."
Kathy rolled her eyes, once more reminding me that I was being a little nit-picky.
"Unless of course the farm takes off, then we won't have to worry about it."
Yet Sam, Jake and Matt are normally just as busy playing games, going to sites, telling me the news before it even hits the television.
"Hey, you want to know when you're going to die?" Jake called out to me this afternoon.
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
"There's Death Site," Jake said. "You put your information in and it tells you how and when you're going to die."
"That's awful," I said.
Yet Jake punched in my date of birth, actually getting it wrong on the first two tries.
"Sam is going to die at age 61 of a self-inflicted gunshot wound after he takes out ten of his co-workers," Jake said.
"That sounds a bit right," I joked, even though I was horrified by all of it.
"You're going to die at the age of 86 from choking on a TV dinner," Jake announced. "No one will find your body for a week."
"I don't eat TV dinner's," I said. "Now get off of that site."
And for the life of me, I don't understand it. Is it a site that's supposed to be funny? How many people go to it on a daily basis?
"It might be right," Jake said as we walked away from the computer.
"If it's right then everyone who shares a birthday with me is going to choke on a TV dinner," I explained.
"Could happen," Jake replied.
I suppose, but I certainly wonder about the way of the world.
Now excuse me for a minute, I have to see how high the corn is on the farm.
The way this economy is going we may have to pull off an early harvest.
We have two computers in the house - the one in my office which is supposed to be used exclusively for work, and the one in the kid's room where all sorts of Fantasy Sports Leagues, Face book accounts, and PlayStation activities can be handled.
We worked the split this way because a couple of years back Matt downloaded Internet games that locked up the computer for a couple of days and threatened the money coming in.
A couple of days ago I entered my office to see my wife on the computer with a fake farm on the screen. Evidently there's a game where you build your farm.
"Why are you using that computer for games?" I asked gently.
"I'm not downloading anything," Kathy said.
I was just returning from work so I wasn't my usual Happy-Go-Lucky self.
"That's the work computer," I reminded, "and we need it to function for us to eat."
Kathy rolled her eyes, once more reminding me that I was being a little nit-picky.
"Unless of course the farm takes off, then we won't have to worry about it."
Yet Sam, Jake and Matt are normally just as busy playing games, going to sites, telling me the news before it even hits the television.
"Hey, you want to know when you're going to die?" Jake called out to me this afternoon.
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
"There's Death Site," Jake said. "You put your information in and it tells you how and when you're going to die."
"That's awful," I said.
Yet Jake punched in my date of birth, actually getting it wrong on the first two tries.
"Sam is going to die at age 61 of a self-inflicted gunshot wound after he takes out ten of his co-workers," Jake said.
"That sounds a bit right," I joked, even though I was horrified by all of it.
"You're going to die at the age of 86 from choking on a TV dinner," Jake announced. "No one will find your body for a week."
"I don't eat TV dinner's," I said. "Now get off of that site."
And for the life of me, I don't understand it. Is it a site that's supposed to be funny? How many people go to it on a daily basis?
"It might be right," Jake said as we walked away from the computer.
"If it's right then everyone who shares a birthday with me is going to choke on a TV dinner," I explained.
"Could happen," Jake replied.
I suppose, but I certainly wonder about the way of the world.
Now excuse me for a minute, I have to see how high the corn is on the farm.
The way this economy is going we may have to pull off an early harvest.
Comments
My crops have been dead for sometime now and I am certain I have racked up a ton of tickets in parking wars.