Are we Y2K compliant? You betcha!
by Bill Keough, M.P.P.C.

"Yaagh!!!"

I hate it when the company president screams like that.

"What's the matter, Carol?" I asked.

"Someone put cinderblocks in the refrigerator."

"Oh, you noticed," I said. "that's part of our Y2k readiness plan. We've also got a brick in our toilet tank and a couple of bricks in the company car's gas tank. Bring on the millennium. We're ready."

"What are you nuts?" she queried.

Not at all, I explained. Whenever there's a drought, we're advised to put a brick in the toilet tank to save water.

Now, with the approach of Year 2000, we've been warned of impending shortages of not only water, but gasoline, food, heat, electricity and e-mail.

"By putting cinderblocks in the refrigerator we cut down on the amount of food it takes to fill it," I said. "That way we save food. When the food shortage hits, we'll be doing our part because we'll need less food to fill the refrigerator. We're saving gas too. It now takes fewer gallons to fill the gas tank."

"But we'll still starve," she said. "We can't eat cinderblocks."

"Pish tosh," I replied. "You haven't checked the bathtub in the last few hours."

"You put cinderblocks in the bathtub?"

"No, that would be silly. I've filled the bathtub with enough doggies and noodles to feed us for a month."

For those unfamiliar with doggies and noodles, it's a delicious concoction of noodles, tomato and mushroom soup and sliced hotdogs, topped off with melted cheese slices.

"It took all afternoon," I said, "but we won't have to worry about what's to eat until Valentine's Day."

"But we can't bathe if the tub's full of doggies and noodles."

"Picky, picky, picky. We'll have plenty of time for personal hygiene in the next century -- after we've weathered the Y2K crisis. Here, put this on."

"What is it?"

"It's your tinfoil hat. I made one for each of us."

"Tinfoil hat?"

"Of course," I said. "Protection from any Y2k radiation. They also make it virtually impossible for Bill Gates to read our private thoughts."

"Even our homicidal ones?" she asked. There seemed to be a slight edge to her voice. I also noticed she glanced toward my softball bat.

"Absolutely," I said.

I took a step toward the back door as we put on our Y2K hats.

"Tinfoil becomes you," I said.

She seemed to make a small gargling noise and was moving toward the softball bat as I made my exit.

As a further condition of your Y2K readiness, I've started wearing a crash helmet under my tinfoil hat.
[whacko]