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Confessions of a Y2K addict By Erik J. Martin Okay, I admit it. I've become a Year 2000 junkie over the past six months. I just can't get enough hoopla and regurgitated information about the millennium bug. It's become a two-digit date-driven obsession, this continual thirst for Y2K knowledge. Now, I realize that the only way to rid myself of the craving to read and write more about this dreaded digital scourge is to go cold turkey. Immediately. Thanks to the intervention of my editor, who first gave me this Year 2000 beat six months ago, I've decided to kick the habit for good and get on with my date-challenged life. So, I'm putting all my Ed Yourdon books and assortment of newspaper clippings into mothballs to focus on writing something non-technology driven that won't tempt me to relapse into my old Y2K ways. But before I turn in my Y2K "scoop" hat, my shrink thought it would be healthy for me to share with readers what I've learned these past six months while penning my "Surviving the Year 2000" column. I learned that the first step towards recovery is to admit you have a Y2K problem. I learned that treatment for a millennium bug disease does not involve a 12-step program. It's really a two-step program: simply replace your Y2K-challenged products with Y2K-compliant ones and get on with your life. I learned that, just like fashion goes in and out of style, the media will ebb and flow with Y2K hype. Yesterday's global, run-to-the-hills panic has turned into today's "don’t-worry-be-happy" calm before the storm. I learned that the sheer laziness of programmers from bygone decades who tried to cut corners by using two-digit date codes instead of four has the potential to bring an entire planet to its knees -- sort of like the Taoist philosophy of the ripple in the stream emanating outward and eventually causing an oceanic tidal wave or something like that. I learned that portable generators can be pretty darn expensive. I learned that if we can put a man on the moon, we certainly wouldn't want to try it again until this whole Y2K thing blows over. I learned that the acronym for the Year 2000 problem can not only sell panic to the public, it can also be used as a greedy, opportunistic marketing tactic to sell cars, as evidenced by the Yes2Kia campaign. I learned that Y2K will be the perfect scapegoat if and when the smooth-sailing economy takes a dive. I learned that Al Gore, the man who "invented the Internet," will be the perfect scapegoat if and when the millennium bug bites America. If so, you can welcome an elephant back into the White House. I learned that you have a greater chance of being hit by a drunk driver on New Year's Eve than your car biting the dust due to a date-defunct microchip. I learned that the Amish are getting a lot of mileage out of their Y2K jokes. I learned that government agencies in danger of invoking the ire of President Clinton and his Council on Year 2000 Conversion for not meeting Y2K-compliance deadlines are thanking their lucky stars and stripes they live in the US of A. In China, government bodies that fail to meet imposed Y2K deadlines "will be punished," according to the China Economic Times. I learned that we worry way too much about our VCRs and not enough about how to keep warm on a cold, electricity-less New Year's Day. Until the next global scare -- perhaps rampant rabid weasels? -- goodbye and good luck. Oh, and Happy New Year. 1999 Thomson Target Media Erik J. Martin is a freelance journalist who has penned a regular multimedia column for Screen Magazine and has written for a variety of other publications, including the Chicago Tribune, Coverstory and The X-Files Official Magazine. He lives in Oak Lawn, Illinois, with his wife, son, and the Millennium Bug, which he is still trying to exterminate from his PC. Certainly no self-proclaimed technowhiz, Erik prides himself on being "an average guy with the same concerns and questions about Y2K as everyone else. My job? To get answers to those questions, and pass them along to you." Techno file index Mail Tribune Copyright � The Mail Tribune 1999, Medford, Oregon USA