I SPY

I would offer that that the best way to guide your child through the dangerous waters of a stormy...okay, that metaphor's not going anywhere.

Ahem.

So that youth and normal development might proceed with…

Bother.

Ahem.

Okay, so you know like how when your kids get older, they’ll probably start hanging out with the one kid who likes to set fires and the other kid who likes to hurt animals and the other other kid who likes to hurt animals by setting them on fire?

Yeah, mine neither.

BUT, you do need to monitor who they /makes air quotations ‘hang’ with. And this is why the Lord invented MySpace. So that we can gawk at all the crazies that our kids are smart enough to tease into self-inflicted cigarette burns.

HOWEVER, you really can’t do an effective job of spying on your kids' MySpace activity so long as he/she/he-she thinks you are the least bit technologically adept. Otherwise, they’ll NEVER use your notebook to log into their pitiful excuse of a blog, they’ll NEVER leave their passwords so conveniently remembered in Firefox, and they’ll NEVER post photos of themselves dressed like Martha /swoons Stewart.

Here are some things you can do to make sure that your children think you are functionally e-literate:

PRETEND LIKE THE NOTEBOOK IS A TYPEWRITER (classic)

Approach your notebook when your child is nearby. Place a sheet of paper on top of the screen while the computer is off. Begin typing. Then yell, ‘HONEY! WHERE’S THE GODDAMN CARRIAGE RETURN ON THIS THING?!?’

PRETEND LIKE YOU’RE CONFUSED BY FANCY FONTS (old school)

As you are formatting a document in Word (really, I use OpenOffice, but THAT will DEFINITELY clue your kids into the fact that you’re savvy-tech), complain in your best OLDMANVOICE, “IN MY DAY, WE ONLY NEEDED TWO FONTS: COURIER AND LONGHAND! BALDERDASH!”

Cough, wheeze and then cough again for effect.

PRETEND LIKE YOU’RE FRIGHTENED BY THE PERIPHERALS

Approach the computer and wave your hand in front of the screen. Whisper, ‘PLEASE OPEN WORD,’ and sound embarrassed. Keep whispering, ‘OPEN,’ until your kid gives in and moans, ‘Daa-aad, use this.’

Ask, ‘What’s this?’

When he says, ‘It’s a mouse,’ screech, ‘Eek! A mouse!’

Jump on the table for effect.

Because apparently this used to really happen eons ago.

FEIGN AMAZEMENT AT THE ALL-NEW AOL!

Oh, Jesus.

PRETEND LIKE THE COMPUTER IS A TI-99/4A

Why can’t I just plug this thing into the TV?!? Can’t a man play Parsec without needing a goddamn diploma in Solid State Engineering?

Ahem.

/BEGIN SECOND BLOG POST BECAUSE I WAS TOO BUSY TOO POST YESTERDAY BECAUSE I HAD THE PLEASURE OF LAUGHING MY ASS OFF (GETTING PLASTERED) WITH THIS YOUNG LADY AND MAKING PRANK PHONE CALLS TO THIS FELLOW

Oh, hey, remember when it was all the rage to have a mold made of your penis to give as a gift to your wife for when you were away, and one day you noticed that your mold looked a little different than before and you couldn’t remember having made two of them?

Yeah, me neither.

God, I hate cleaning out the garage.