Curses. I’ve been hijacked!
Not in the sense that terrorists took over my flight and held me hostage. That would have been an easier situation than having my computer hacked.
Some lunatic out there confiscated my e-mail address and did me no favors. To the thousands who have received an e-mail from me over the past 10 years, no, I am not selling Viagra. And no, I do not have an approved store online.
Trust me. I’m not patronizing such an enterprise over the holiday season, nor have I become the angel of mercy during these blessed times.
How the outlaws out there ever got hold of my password, I shall never know. I have security protection, for all the good it did me. Then, one morning I went to my computer to check my e-mails and got whip-lashed.
My own priest, God bless his innocence, responded. He thought I had the devil in me and was ready to lend an ear.
“If there’s a problem, I’d be glad to sit and talk it over with you,” he said.
“No problem, Father. A mouse entered my computer and is driving me crazy. Don’t believe everything you read from me.”
“I don’t,” he said, “especially some of those stories you may write when you stretch the truth. I realize you’re getting old and …”
The guy sounded like my therapist. I see the Viagra ads on TV like you do. Years ago, you would never see this bunk advertised on television. A person’s intimate moments are private, and who am I to intrude?
It was just about a year ago when I bought a third computer for Christmas. This comes from the guy who refrained from the electronic age. I frowned upon all the hand-held gadgets and computerized toys like iPads.