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Art Buchwald Bores, Annoys By Declan McCullagh October 5, 1999
There comes a time when every cross old nag should be taken out behind the barn and given a mercy killing. Then it's catfood time. If any writing deserves that kind of painless but decidedly prompt death, it's surely that of Art Buchwald, someone who badly needs to be put out to pasture, and pronto. Oh, certainly we recognize his long and distinguished Pulitzer-crowned career. But it doesn't mean Buchwald has a clue about Y2K, or that his recent column on the topic ("Yabba-Dabba-Doom," September 9) is anything but banal. Don't believe us? It's no coincidence that his column in the Washington Post has been becoming markedly less prominent by the week. Now it's slipped to the top right corner of the second page of the Style section, the bottom rung of the ladder to writer's oblivion. See for yourself: Now is the time for all good men and women to come to the aid of their software. Once upon a time, when Stone Age man was just oozing out of the slime, he invented the computer. It was unwieldy and not much use for killing game, but as time went on great hairy minds kept reducing the size of it until a person was able to drop it from a tree on a dinosaur's head and knock the reptile out. Then a wise hairy man named Zilch, with a math degree from Cro-Magnon Tech, said, "There must be other uses for a computer than to drop it on a dinosaur's head. I will develop a program from mud so we can solve problems and make seat reservations when the airplane is invented." [time passes] The president called a meeting to discuss a solution to the gravest problem the country had ever faced. His concern was that computers were the only machines essential to political fund-raising. After talking to all the experts, the president made his decision. Every double-zero computer in the United States would be confiscated and dropped on Saddam Hussein's head in Baghdad. It was a great plan and restored the original purpose of the computer. I know the big question people are asking is "Now what happens to e-mail?" The answer is simple. You print it out, stuff it in an
envelope, put on a 33-cent stamp, take it down to the post
office, stick it in a box and mail it.
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