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http://www.omniture.com --> Sections Home Page Local News AP News AP Entertainment Archives Business Classifieds Event Calendar Forums Life Opinion Obituaries Photo Gallery Readers Photo Gallery Sports Tempo Weather Special Coverage 2006 Britt Festivals --> Shop Our Valley AutoFinder HomeFinder JobFinder Search Our Valley Special Sections Distinctly Northwest Readers' Choice Homelife Magazine Joy Magazine Holiday Guide Oregon Golf Info Oregon Wine Info Other Publications Local Links Ashland News eSouthernOregon Newspapers In Education Personals Moving Here Movie Listings TV Listings Volunteer Customer Service Advertise With Us Media Kit Place Classified Ad Contact Us FAQ's Home Delivery Site Map --> Email Story to a Friend December 24, 2006 Evil clicker foils the best efforts of men A Christmas gift catalog arrived in the mail the other day offering a variety of electronic gadgets as the ultimate gifts. It was, of course, someone's idea of a sick joke, cruelly reminding me of my ongoing bitter battle with our digitized, cyberized, computerized world. I am not a member of the Flat Earth Society. I use computers both at work and at home. I know they can — if they really, really want to — make our lives easier. But I don't trust them one whit. The problem is that our society has come to depend on them. And the machines know it. Advertisement While I am tossing and turning with nightmarish dreams of computers crashing in my sleep, their devious little mechanical wheels are turning. They are thinking of ways to make my life as miserable as possible. Take my remote control key fob. Please. That would be the thing that ordinarily dangles from my key ring for the pickup truck Maureen and I bought new in 2001. As one who is technologically challenged, I call it by its non-technical moniker — the clicker. Like all dangerous gadgets, the clicker is an innocuous looking little thing. There are only three buttons on it: one to lock, one to unlock and one to set off the car alarm. Simple. Any biped, even a journalist, if properly trained, could operate it. Admittedly, the clicker is quite handy when you are heading out to the parking lot in the dark after work just as the ax murderers start their night shift. They are sharper earlier in the night, so to speak. With the clicker you can sound your vehicle alarm. It also gives you the advantage of not having to fumble for your keys while Mr. A. Murderer is making his lunge. But, as programmed, the clicker broke off from the key ring early this month. True, some gullible techies would mistakenly shrug it off as merely the result of wear and tear. Balderdash. We had just paid off the pickup. It's a little known fact a bank sending out the title triggers a break-the-fob computer chip inside the clicker. A clicker, as its evil makers intended, still works after it becomes disengaged from the key ring. And, as programmed by habit, I still grab it along with my keys when I go to work. You may recall that Monday, Dec. 11 was a foul day of rain, wind and scowls. I pulled into the parking lot and trudged into the office as I always do. I knew it was going to be a bad day when a car alarm started sounding in the parking lot outside. There are few noises on this planet that are more irritating than that infernal squawking. And some jerk was just ignoring it. Talk about inconsiderate. About that time a considerate co-worker walked in and observed the alarm appeared to be coming from a pickup truck. I slinked outside and clicked my clicker. Silence returned. Then, as usual, my computer decided to throw a hissy fit. Like the fact it doesn't write very well wasn't bad enough. Geez. After a day from Hades, I was relieved to head home that evening. The raging rain and wicked wind were almost a welcoming relief. But I didn't relish stepping out into the stormy darkness when I stopped to open the gate to our 300-foot driveway. So I made a dash out the door, slammed it closed, opened the gate and raced back to the driver's door. It was locked. Not a problem. I had my clicker in my pocket. I pulled it out and clicked. Nothing happened. The evil-doing programmers had thought of everything. Again, not a problem. I reached under the fender for the little magnetized metal box containing the spare key. Big problem. All I found was mud. That's when I realized my clicker had been demagnetizing the box as part of its programming. There I was, standing coatless in the pouring rain while the locked pickup sat there, running, its headlights shining down the driveway. I stomped up the wet driveway, snarling into the darkness. An ax murderer would have fled screaming at my angry approach. Fortunately, I found the hidden key to our cabin, sloshed inside and called Maureen, the holder of the other truck key. "You what?" she managed to gasp before collapsing into a chortling fit. It took her a while to dry her eyes and close up shop before heading home with the spare key. Fortunately, I had a Christmas catalog filled with electronic gadgets to browse through while waiting. Reach reporter Paul Fattig at 776-4496 or at [email protected] Would you like to respond to this story? If so Click Here to visit our forums. Advertisement Copyright © 1997-2007 Mail Tribune, Inc. All rights reserved. Privacy Policy | Terms & Conditions | Website Feedback online casinos news Home Security Systems Online Casino Reviews Men's Clothing Fundraisers UK Homeowner Loans Discount Hotel Reservations Send Flowers Casinos Canada Texas Electric Choice Compare Electric rates in Texas Windermere Van Vleet Trunks, Footlocker Online poker at AbsolutePoker.com