Man loses to machine (again) ... and pays a price

I went down to my office in the basement the other day and clocked on my computer. Instead of the usual welcome, I got this blaring note: "YOUR COMPUTER HAS BEEN INFECTED. PLEASE BUY .... "

I don't want to name the product because if I do, I would have to identify it the way Red Sox fans remember Bucky Dent. Suffice it to say the new product was of little help (except to the company, which got $49.95 out of me) and I will be buying a new laptop this week.

My sister-in-law Shari's guy pal, Aaron, is a tekkie who was sympathetic to my frantic, profane calls. But there was little he could do except suggest I buy a Mac. "There hasn't been a virus made I know of that infects them," he said.

When you are spending your time and money on redoing your basement and turning your backyard from a jungle into a livable environment, spending a grand or so on a new laptop doesn't excite you much. And the macs I looked at yesterday are such thin little buggers you might swear Twiggy made them.

But, unless you are David McCullough pounding out 700-page novels on a typewriter, you have little choice in the matter.

So, something will have to be excised from the weekly budget to pay for the bleeping thing that Aaron tells me has an average lifespan of 3-4 years.

When times get tough, one grits their teeth and sacrifices. My first instinct is a painful one. Several years ago, I was introduced to Grand Marnier, a wonderful after-dinner drink. Unfortunately, they can be a bit pricey at the neighborhood saloon. So I am now wondering how much a shot of Boone's Farm cost these days.