A computer was something on TV from a science fiction show, a window was something you hated to clean, and ram was the cousin of a goat.
Meg was the name of my girlfriend, and gig was something you did on stage for money; now they all mean different things and that really mega bytes.
An application was for employment, a program was a TV show, a cursor used profanity, and a keyboard was a piano.
Memory was something that you lost with age, a CD was a bank account.
Compress was something you did to the garbage, not something you did to a file, and if you unzipped anything in public you’d be in jail for a while.
Log on was adding wood to the fire, hard drive was a long trip on the road, a mouse pad was where a mouse lived, and a backup happened to your commode.
Cut you did with a pocketknife, paste you did with glue, a web was a spider’s home, and a virus was the flu.
I guess I’ll stick to my pad and paper and the memory in my head.
I hear nobody’s been killed in a computer crash.
