The ultimate showdown - pencil and paper vs. the computer

In an effort to appear knowledgeable, something entirely foreign to most of my readers, I like to put forth the latest trends. As you know, trends come and go, so it is hard to keep up, yet you don’t want to seem out of the mainstream. Fitting in is of course the No. 1 goal. 

Today, if you are able to take a breath, it means you are alive. It then follows, according to the theory of relativity, that if you are breathing it means you own a computer. Well, all of that is passé, not the breathing, but the fact that goes along with having a computer - in other words, you probably don’t know how to write. Writing, especially cursive, is now back in vogue. That’s right, those smacks on the knuckles with a ruler in elementary school were future predictors. 

Let me explain what that means. Cursive, which is now called an art, is the kind of writing we were taught way back then, when the two forms of communication were block letters (printing) or a script form of writing (cursive). Right now, only advanced forms of alien cultures on other planets know how to actually write on a piece of paper. 

So let me take you through this; it’s not rocket science, but close enough. You will need a piece of paper and a writing tool, such as a pencil or pen. A store such as Staples has people who can explain this to you. Now grab the writing tool with your hand; your thumb and one of your index fingers should curl around it gently. Press down on the pen or pencil, touching the tool to the paper, and practice making circles. In about 350 days, you will have the skill of an ancient being from the stone age whose work appears as a hieroglyphic on a cave in Egypt. 

There are several advantages to knowing how to write. The most important being you cannot be hacked, unless it’s done by a former nun from the ’50s, who had cursive writing down to a fine art. She knew how to pace the aisle, looking for that loop at the top of the letter L that wasn’t closed tightly. 

Secondly, you won’t have to deal with computer servers whose language sounds like a formula for launching an unmanned spacecraft to Mars.

I had occasion to call my computer server one time. When this happens, a signal is sent to a satellite circling the planet, and then that signal is beamed down to a Third World country.

There, a technician living in a hut alongside a river infested with alligators will gladly take your call by way of a pair of tin cans tied to a palm tree.

You will have to answer a list of security questions as he prepares his dinner of fried mystery bark. This is an extremely important step; otherwise a hacker will be able to access the two dollars in your checking account. 

The other advantage is you will not have to deal with passwords and the dreaded act of resetting a password. There is nothing more demoralizing than having to go through different combinations, only to have them rejected as already taken. There are little people living inside your computer making all kinds of political demands and getting pay-offs.

They want capitals, letters, numbers and exclamation points, all for the glory of pushing you around. Even if you stand on a chair and point the mouse at your computer, making mantra sounds, it still won’t get you a password. You are in what is known as Area 51. 

So you have two choices - either call the 12-year-old down the street or go out and buy an eraser. My money is on the eraser.