A High Tech Prayer

As I boot up my PC,
my modem dailing next to me,
I ask the Lord, give me a sign….
Will I ever get on-line?

If you’d kindly let me through,
I’ll byte no more than I can chew.
I’ll surf the waves amid the Net,
with my mouse, my loyal pet.

And through each window I will see
the websites that are offered me.
Resisting any chat room’s lure,
I’ll download only what is pure.

If system errors don’t prevail,
I vow to read all my e-mail.
If you save me from a crash,
I’ll dump my games into the trash.

And please don’t take my CD-ROM!
Thank you Lord, God Bless.com

Busted!

During our routine sweep of the Internet, We, the Internet Police, have discovered that you have been on your chair in front of the computer TOO LONG!

You are HEREBY ORDERED to clean up that pile of cups, cans, wrappers and papers on your desk (yes, we can see you — sit up straight!) and after you have logged into the real world for a minimum of ten minutes, you may log back on to the Internet.

Failure to comply may result in loss of reality, carpal tunnel syndrome, and the requirement of a larger chair.

The timer starts NOW! Get off your butt — you’ll thank us for it later.

Do You Need Help?

Hello. Yes, you! You, looking at this screen for hours on end, online. You, bleary-eyed. You, an addict. Have you looked in the mirror lately? Been outside? Know what day of the week it is? Your name was given to us by a spouse or family member who is concerned about your Internet addiction. At Internetaholics Anonymous, we can help. We’re a non-profit society of recovering addicts like yourself that provides support and counseling through weekly meetings designed to help you cope with your problem.

We feature a twelve-step recovery program and in extreme cases, interventions. Although it is our firm belief that you are never “cured,” you most certainly can recover.

We have designed a brief checklist to determine IF you are an addict. Do you:

  1. Have twitches of the hand when you walk by your terminal?
  2. Check e-mail more than five times a day?
  3. Spend more time chatting than eating or sleeping?
  4. Surf aimlessly with no direction, if only to be online?
  5. Leave your name and information at countless sites if only to hope you’ll receive a reply one day from a company you’ll never do business with anyway?
  6. Log on before important personal habits, such as meal preparation, hygiene or bodily functions?
  7. Have red, swollen eyes that hang halfway out of your head?
  8. Spend hours online on a holiday from work, where you’d usually be griping about your carpal tunnel syndrome?
  9. See smoke arising from your computer or cable modem?
  10. All of the above?

If you answered yes to four or more questions, (or chose #10), you have a problem. Please call us at Internetaholics Anonymous at: 1-800-LOGOFFNOWFORSWEETPETESSAKES. We’re here, we’re free, and we’re confidential. The first step to recovery is an admission that you have a problem. Call us today. If you can power off to free up your phone line, that is.

How to Build a Web Page in 25 Steps

  1. Download a piece of Web authoring software ~ 20 minutes.
  2. Think about what you want to write on your Web page ~ 6 weeks.
  3. Download the same piece of Web authoring software, because they have released 3 new versions since the first time you downloaded it ~ 20 minutes.
  4. Decide to just steal some images and awards to put on your site ~ 1 minute.
  5. Visit sites to find images and awards, find 5 of them that you like ~ 4 days.
  6. Run setup of your Web authoring software. After it fails, download it again ~ 25 minutes.
  7. Run setup again, boot the software, click all toolbar buttons to see what they do ~ 15 minutes.
  8. View the source of others’ pages, steal some, change a few words here and there ~ 4 hours.
  9. Preview your Web page using the Web Authoring software ~ 1 minute.
  10. Try to horizontally line up two related images ~ 6 hours.
  11. Remove one of the images ~ 10 seconds.
  12. Set the text’s font color to the same color as your background, wonder why all your text is gone ~ 4 hours.
  13. Download a counter from your ISP ~ 4 minutes.
  14. Try to figure out why your counter reads “You are visitor number 16.3 E10” ~ 3 hours.
  15. Put 4 blank lines between two lines of text ~ 8 hours.
  16. Fine-tune the text, then prepare to load your Web page on your ISP ~ 40 minutes.
  17. Accidentally delete your complete web page ~ 1 second.
  18. Recreate your web page ~ 2 days.
  19. Try to figure out how to load your Web page onto your ISP’s server ~ 3 weeks.
  20. Call a patient friend to find out about FTP ~ 30 minutes.
  21. Download FTP software ~ 10 minutes.
  22. Call your friend again ~ 15 minutes.
  23. Upload your web page to your ISP’s server ~ 10 minutes.
  24. Connect to your site on the web ~ 1 minute.
  25. Repeat any and all of the previous steps ~ eternity.

A 12 Step Program of Recovery for Web Addicts

  1. I will have a cup of coffee in the morning and read my PAPER newspaper like I used to, before the Web.
  2. I will eat breakfast with a knife and fork and not with one hand typing.
  3. I will get dressed before noon.
  4. I will make an attempt to clean the house, wash clothes, and plan dinner before even thinking of the Web.
  5. I will sit down and write a letter to those unfortunate few friends and family that are Web-deprived.
  6. I will call someone on the phone who I cannot contact via the Web.
  7. I will read a book…if I still remember how.
  8. I will listen to those around me and their needs and stop telling them to turn the TV down so I can hear the music on the Web.
  9. I will not be tempted during TV commercials to check for email.
  10. I will try and get out of the house at least once a week, if it is necessary or not.
  11. I will remember that my bank is not forgiving if I forget to balance my checkbook because I was too busy on the Web.
  12. Last, but not least, I will remember that I must go to bed sometime…and the Web will always be there tomorrow!

Signs Your Cat has Learned Your Internet Password

  • E-Mail flames from some guy named “Fluffy.”
  • Traces of kitty litter in your keyboard.
  • You find you’ve been subscribed to strange newsgroups like alt.recreational.catnip.
  • Your mouse has teeth marks in it … and a strange aroma of tuna.
  • Hate-mail messages to Apple Computer Corp. about their release of “CyberDog.”
  • Your new ergonomic keyboard has a strange territorial scent to it.
  • You keep finding new software around your house like CatinTax and WarCat II.
  • On IRC you’re known as the IronMouser.
  • Little kitty carpal-tunnel braces near the scratching post.