The gool ol' days

Back when dinosaurs and Transformers were my consuming passions, there was much less risk of total psychological meltdown.

Today— or yesterday, as it were—in our blessed digital age, when personal treasures are stored on, say, a morally weak and easily corrupted hard drive, catastrophe lurks, silently waiting for you to put off that file back up just one more day.

A sudden, irrational calamity that struck Dark Helmet II, as I call my computer, yesterday caused a minor panic, followed by a frantic transplant operation, followed by a bestial scream of fury, followed by a cool-headed reinstall of Windows.

Let me just say, thank God for partitioned hard drives, and that all 7,387 of my unedited digital photos from the 20d are safe and sound—and now fully backed up on DVD.

Anyways, that's what I've been up to. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to go comb through Gmail to find my photo licensing documentation, which I stupidly saved in a folder on the desktop that has departed this digital coil.