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- THE DAY ELVIS TRASHED MY PC
-
- by Jim Taylor
-
- Elvis stopped by for a visit yesterday. I found this quite
- surprising especially since I've never been that big a fan of his
- music. But I've always admired his style.
-
- Not wanting to pass up the chance to question a true American
- Icon, I asked him how he liked my PC clone.
-
- Elvis didn't say a word. Slowly he curled his lip into his
- trademark sneer, drew a pistol and shot out my monitor.
-
- Normally, I'd never tolerate this sort of behavior in a house
- guest. But since I was dealing with the King of Rock & Roll and
- because he immediately gave me a brand new Cadillac, I decided to
- let it slide.
-
- "Um, Elvis," I said, "I know you're in the habit of terminating
- televisions that show things you don't agree with. But why my
- monitor? Did my paint program offend you?"
-
- "PCs are the instrument of the Devil. They've caused the ruin of
- America."
-
- "Oh," I said, never at a loss for a snappy comeback, "could you
- expand on that a little for me? I don't quite make the
- connection."
-
- "Thank you very much," he replied. "Once upon a time..."
-
- Oh goody, I thought, I love a good story, but I somehow sensed
- there would be no happy ending to this one.
-
- "Once upon a time," he continued, "America was a better place.
- Real cars poured out of Detroit breathing the leadened vapors of
- a high octane reality. Safe sex meant her parents didn't find out
- and young boys from the hills who played only three chords could
- make a record and turn into superstars over night. It was place
- where a star could make a videotape of himself and a few under-
- aged friends and feel good about himself."
-
- I sat, crossed legged on the floor, in rapt awe, "Tell me more,
- Elvis."
-
- "It was a good time. A time when Real Men programed in BASIC and
- Assembler and didn't use menus."
-
- He spun around and partitioned my hard drive with a karate chop.
-
- "You know," he said, quickly turning to face me, "contrary to
- popular myth, I gave away a lot more than fancy cars. I also gave
- away a heck of a lot of Kaypros, too."
-
- Master of the snappy repartee that I am, I replied, "I didn't
- know that."
-
- He continued, "In between writing my hits and studying the
- underwear sections of the Sears catalog, I used to spend late
- hours with my old drinking buddy, J. Edgar Hoover, de-bugging
- source code into the wee hours of the Graceland mornings. Those
- were the days.
-
- "The music business was very good to me but I never did realize
- my dream of programming for a major supermarket chain."
-
- Elvis looked depressed so I gave him a box of Twinkies. He smiled
- and then plunged his fingers through my motherboard.
-
- "That's all very interesting," I said, "but what does it have to
- do with the ruining of America?"
-
- "In those days, CP/M was the King, just like me. The perfect
- reflection of America. No two brands of computer ran exactly the
- same operating system. Every one was different, individual, like
- the folks that made America great.
-
- "But then I kicked Bill Gates out of the band and the rest is
- history."
-
- "Bill Gates, the developer of MS-DOS was in your band?" I asked.
-
- "Yeah. He didn't play an instrument but he was a good programmer
- so I thought I'd help him out. But he had all these newfangled
- ideas about computers and music and it just didn't work out. You
- know, don't you, that Bill is the man responsible for creating
- disco? You look close enough at the source code for Microsoft
- Windows and you'll find the score for Saturday Night Fever. If
- I'm lyin', I'm dyin'." He took another bite of his Twinkie and
- washed it down with a big gulp of Yoo-Hoo.
-
- "Then what happened?" I asked.
-
- "He was so darned mad at me that he went off and wrote that MS-
- DOS crap just to get back at me. Then all the computers could run
- the same software and America just came apart. Suddenly,
- everything was the same. Japan started making clones. An actor
- was elected to the White House. Even Cadillacs started getting
- smaller."
-
- Elvis looked tired. His tale of woe must have spoiled his
- appetite because he jammed the remains of his last Twinkie into
- my disk drive. He quietly stood, the sequins on his jumpsuit
- sparkling in the light streaming through my office window.
-
- Gently, he stroked the keyboard of my Kaypro II, murmuring as if
- to a small child. Slowly he turned to face me. A small tear
- appeared in the corner of his eye. He patted the screen and said
- to me, "Don't be cruel to one who's true."
-
- Smiling again, he then put his finger on the side of his nose and
- nodded. The sparkling of the sequins intensified to blinding
- proportions until I had to shut my eyes.
-
- When I opened them again he was gone.
-
- I sat motionless for a moment or two. Then I took a sip of my
- coffee, long since grown cold, and lit a cigarette to calm my
- nerves. I pondered to what good use I could put this history
- lesson from the King. I had to spread the truth.
-
- So I wrote this story. And every word is true.
-
- Because if I'm lyin', I'm dyin'.
-
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-
- Copyright 1991 Jim Taylor.
- All rights reserved.
-
- Attention Editors & Publishers:
-
- If you'd like to purchase reprint rights to this article please
- write:
-
- Jim Taylor
- Suite 110
- 2594-96 Berlin Turnpike
- Newington, Connecticut 06111
-
- Very reasonable rates and courteous service. Make me an offer.
-
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