by Ron Enderland

I was all right for a while. Then I installed Win 95.

My system ran like molasses. Every Windows app took at least 30 seconds to get rolling. My hard drive light stayed on more or less constantly while I ran simple stuff like File Manager (that's right. I HATE Explorer!).

I optimized, I tried different apps, I pruned my TSR's, which were now largely unnecessary. Everything got slightly better. I got used to it.

Then, just last week, a friend's 386 gave up the ghost. I went to a used computer dealer and explained that I was looking for a bargain basement upgrade for my friend, who is strictly a DOS runner.

"Take a look through that box of boards" he offered. "Some are junk, but there are a few that are all right."

I dug through numerous XT's, 286's, and 386's. Then, I stumbled onto a 486slc2-66 just like mine!

"How much for this one?" I asked.

He just snickered. "Take it. That was the slowest piece of junk that IBM ever dumped on the public. Serves `em right they're in the toilet!"

Suddenly, I was in a white room. My head felt fuzzy. I tried to lift my arm, but I couldn't. "What's going on here?" I cried. "Oh, hi, Mr. Enderland" said a man who looked like a doctor."Here, let me loosen your restraints."

Restraints? Why was I wearing restraints? Then, slowly, it all started coming back to me:

Desperate, I had climbed to the top of the tallest structure in Bentonville (the water tower). I had my motherboard in my hand as I climbed the ladder to the top of the same tower on which I had written "Class of 77" some twenty years earlier.

When I reached the top, I started screaming: "I can't take it anymore! I can't take cutting edge technology!"

A crowd soon started gathering below. One man shouted up "I'm coming up too! I just bought a Power Mac that Dvorak says is a design that was outdated a year ago!" Another man hollered "Me too! I've been running UNIX for nine years, now I have a Pentium Pro. I can't figure out Windows 95!" A woman screamed "I can't make the flashing 12:00 stop on my VCR!"

"Come on up, brothers and sisters!" I shouted. "Bring those filthy pieces of technology with you and let's throw them off of the water tower!"

I was feeling flushed with success. I felt like I was leading a Butlerian Jihad, where all thinking machines would be outlawed. I felt like the voice of the New Rebellion!

At this point, the cops showed up. Everyone fled. There was nobody left but me and the boys in blue. "All right, nutso, climb down!"

"You'll have to shoot me down!" I hollered.

"We'll do just that!" the big guy in the front hollered. He pointed to his partner, who had attached a hose to a fire plug. "Squirt him!" he cried.

The blast of ice cold water slammed into me and I fell back against the tank. I lost consciousness under the deluge.

That's the last thing that I remember before waking up in the hospital.

"Doctor" I said. "I assure you that your treatment program has worked. I am no longer afraid of computers, VCR's, microwave ovens, or anything else."

"Yeah, right" said the doctor. "Well, I can't hold you against your will. I'll process your release."

As I signed the papers at the front desk, I looked at my bill. Four days in the hospital, sedation, semi-private room, electroshock therapy. Total cost: $28.95.

"Maam?" I asked the receptionist. "What type of computer did you use to process this bill?"

"I really don't know computers well. I think it's a Pentium 60, one of the early ones."

Smiling, I gave her thirty bucks and paid my bill in full.