computer crisis solved

Computer crisis SOLVED!

For the last little while, my computer has been shutting itself down

for no reason, often in the middle of booting up. This had me a bit

concerned, but I could usually manage to get the machine up and

running after a few restarts, so I figured that was an acceptable

level of service. I'd built the thing myself, after all. Then finally

today the machine wouldn't beep and whir for more than a few seconds

after I hit the "on" button. It'd just go "HRRRrrrrrr" and die. It's

hard to pop a CD into the drive and back everything up when the

computer is acting this way.

Thoroughly agitated, I sat and considered the thing from the business

end of a Campari and soda. It seemed to me that the variable nature of

the timing of the crashes meant it wasn't one of those nasty spy-ware

programs that you get when you go to the bikini websites. No, this was

further down in the guts of the thing. I unplugged 568 USB devices

from the CPU, plopped it on the desk, and took a good, long look

inside. Easy to do, since I never bother putting the sidewalls on my

machines.

No microchips were dangling loose, so I wiggled the "RAM" card. Hard

to wiggle. Definitely "seated" correctly. Hm. Maybe step back and try

to get a vibe from the whole.

The insides were coated in a fine dust, sort of like a small computery

moon, so I went to get one of those cans of compressed air that people

are always using to blow hand-dander out of their keyboards. I gave

the motherboard what-for and it spruced up nicely.

Then, between the blades of the fan that sits over the processor, I

saw something amiss. It looked as though James Bond Rat had been

tricked by his nemesis into falling on the thing, and the subsequent

carnage had covered the processor's heat sink with a thick, felty

layer of gray must. About enough to make a new Homburg, if I remember

correctly.

"That's not right," I reasoned. "That thing should be a gleaming set

of aluminum spikes."

"Also," I continued, "if it is covered in a thick, insulating layer of

gray botrytis, the thermal dissipation task of the heat sink may be

significantly hampered."

I thought back to a time in my life--a simpler time--when, in a hot

room, a computer had repeatedly shut itself down. I knew what I had to

do.

I steadied my grip on the compressed air and took aim at the heat

sink. The next five seconds seemed to last an eternity.

Later that afternoon, after we had opened all the windows and doors,

wiped our faces of dust, and sedated the dog, I plugged the computer

back in and booted it up. It zipped through its little startup routine

in record time. Adobe Illustrator, which had been taking upwards of

six and a half hours to launch, popped open in seconds. I even

ventured to burn a CD. Flawless.

I sit here now with that incredible feeling of having overcome a

computer problem. It's invigorating, and empowering. Maybe I'll hook

the digital video camera up and try to see if Microsoft has any native

video editing software. Maybe I'll type up some of my favorite

recipes. Maybe I'll use a WYSIWYG editor to make a web page, only to

delete it because I don't need it.

Computers, you once had me scared. You had me angry. You knew you

could hurt me. But now, I have a new thing. A message I can relate to

the world. A message of cleaning you off. A message that there

probably isn't spy-ware on your funny-acting machine. Spy-ware is