Having your computer hacked can be painful

If you are able to take a breath, generally it means you are alive. But that’s not the most important scientific fact about you today. No, the important part of this conclusion is that you own a computer. If you own a computer, you are therefore able to be hacked into forthwith. As I was last week. I know for some it is a status symbol.

So in an effort to be knowledgeable, something entirely foreign to my readers, I will offer you some tips on what to do should this happen. You know, years ago we used to just write. No one ever hacked into a written message, let alone could read it, since most of us had the handwriting of a serial killer. Yet there will be a time when we go back to that; right now only advanced alien cultures from other planets know how to write.

Basically, to write, you need a piece of paper and a writing tool such as a pencil or pen. Now grab the writing tool with your hand; your thumb and one of your fingers should curl around it. Gently press down on the lead or ink, touching the tool to the paper and start to make faces. This will take about 365 days of practice but if you start now, you will have the skill of an ancient being from the stone age whose written work appears as a hieroglyphic on a cave wall.

Now when someone hacks into your computer account, it means they have captured your address contact book or your password, usually at gunpoint. But don’t worry, the weapon is made of paper and cheap stock at that.

Most of the time, it is an attachment for something innocuous like a drug for a stool softener. This will be sent to all your friends or in my case, my life is so boring the attachment was empty when opened.

Do not panic. Go to the medicine cabinet and get two Advil and a glass of water. Not for you, but to place in front of the computer; sometimes they just have a bad day and will eventually come around. Just kidding! Once your friends start calling and complaining, then it’s time for a different course of action.

In my case, I called my computer server. Doing this sends a signal to a satellite circling the planet and down to a Third World country, where a technician living in a hut alongside an infested river will gladly take your call. His name usually is John. From there he will ask you a list of security questions as he prepares a fire for cooking his dinner. You wouldn’t want the wrong person getting information about the fact that you have no life, no friends and two dollars in your checking account.

Once you have passed the security clearance, you can get down to the business of resetting your password. You can smell John’s dinner burning as you go through different combinations that signal a red sign that says whatever you put in will not be accepted.

The little people inside the computer are demanding political favors; I can feel it. They want capitals, letters, numbers, and voter commitment for their presidential candidate. You try standing on your chair and pointing the mouse to the east, while chanting mantra sounds. Still no go.

And then the inevitable happens, the phone somehow disconnects. If you’d like to make a call, please hang up. Now you are in what is known among the aliens as area 51. You will have to redial and start all over again.

Resetting your password is simple if you remember one tip. Just call the 12-year-old kid down the street and you will be done in about five seconds. Don’t ask any questions. Don’t ask why. Don’t ask how. Silence is golden; just take the Advil.