Chalk Up One For The Humans

My computer and I have a complex relationship, kind of Tom & Jerry, Oscar & Felix, Laverne & Shirley, Benson & Hedges, and Michael Jackson & E.T. rolled into one. For personal reasons I'll leave undivulged, I call him Julius Boros. Julius Boros (he told me identifies as a male, and refers to himself only as Julius Boros) thinks he is a partner; I think of him as a tool. From there it really gets complicated. If computers existed in the 19th century, Julius Boros would have been diagnosed as a neurasthenic (neurasthenia--a neurotic disorder marked by chronic fatigue and weakness, loss of memory, and generalized aches and pains). Like most humans, I assume, I have been talking to my computer since the first time it took more than four milliseconds to do anything. I have done so with the expectation that the computer, aka Julius Boros, would not talk back. Well, a while back Julius Boros picked up some kind of virus (he's a big computer, left on his own for long stretches of time) that enables him to instant message me ("Not another Bob Dylan site!" [italics his] is a typical missive from Julius, or "Go have another cigarette, I'm feeling a bit rheumatic today. Loading this page is going to take me awhile. Sue me."), so unfortunately, we have a bit of a dialogue these days.

Well, many tete a tetes later, as you can guess, somehow Julius Boros got wind of Watson's (his "brother's") triumph on Jeopardy versus Ken Jennings and some other know-it-all. So I get this IM from him late last night: "I'm much closer to Watson than you are to Ken Jennings," which, in many senses, Thank God, but the insinuation from Julius Boros that he could kick my butt at a game of Jeopardy was a brutal insult. "Fine," I shouted at his too big monitor head, "Let's play Jeopardy!" "Bring it on, homey," was his response. If Julius Boros thought he'd have the weekend to cram for the next Jeopardy airing on Monday, he had seriously underestimated me. You see, back in the early 1990s I had had the rather egocentric, autodidact notion that I could become Mensa material by videotaping a year's worth of Jeopardy shows and them watching them all back-to-back in one marathon viewing session over the course of a one-week vacation. Great plan, I realize, but logistical issues and reading too many Marilyn vos Savant columns dispelled me of the notion after a few months of assiduous taping. But for some reason that won't surprise those who know my living habits, I never got around to taping over or throwing out the mountain of Jeopardy VHS tapes. Thank God.

"Okay, Julius Boros," I sneered, emerging from a cluttered closet with a clutch of dusty videotapes, "how about November 15th, 1993?" Julius was momentarily taken aback as I brandished the tape in front of him, wired up the old VCR, and pushed the tape into the "toploading" machine. A few error messages popped up on Julius, the Ask Jeeves site loaded, and inexplicably "Give Just a Little More Time" started playing on my iTunes. From my brass hat rack I pulled down the Fez I had won at a bizarre Bachelor Party and balanced it on top of Julius. "Here, you might need a thinking cap, buddy." He was not amused; I had to re-start him.

After the single Jeopardy round I was ahead $3600 to $600 (Julius picked up a few scraps after I had too hastily called out incorrect answers). Julius IMed, "Julius Boros is moderately impressed. You're smarter than your looks and typing skills lead one to believe." Witty and a bit civil. But soon into Double Jeopardy, the darker side of Julius Boros quickly emerged. After running the "Recent Bestsellers" column in lightning speed, I received this desperate plea for help: "Julius Boros was not created until the 21st century. This is patently unfair." Then this: "Julius Boros wonders if your precious readers are aware of the fact the you know all the names of the New Kids on the Block." In his frustration and sheer loserness, complete sentences soon were beyond the competence of battered Julius Boros: "Geek," "Nerd," "Pathetic," and then, finally, one last great stand: "Julius Boros screws this." Heading into Final Jeopardy, with the cockiness of Alex Trebeck reading the correct answer to three wrong-headed contestants enabling me to go wild on Daily Double bets, I led Julius Boros $26,400 to $200. "Quick," I gloated to Julius, "what's the all-time single round record? I want to know how much to bet." To which he replied frostily, "One more boast out of you and Julius Boros will commence erasing Julius Boros' hard drive." With the relatively easy Vice Presidents Final Jeopardy question, and the thirty second Da da Da da interval, Julius Boros was able to rally a bit and come up with "Speared Ague." "Nice try, Mr. Obsolete," I laughed as I revealed "Spiro Agnew" and added up my winnings to reveal a nice little pot of $53,399.

Sure it's taken me seven hours to type up this entry, but there's been not one word from Julius Boros. Maybe utter humiliation is the best virus removal method of all. God, it's great to be human some days.


Give Me Just A Little More Time--Chairmen of the Board by spitoutyourgumblog