Code red
The Crazy Barbara threat level has been elevated.
Today, 5:40 p.m. Eastern Cocktail Time, my mother left me a detailed voicemail. Somewhere between the grocery store, the post office, and the Moose Lodge she has met some computer geeks who could disable my computer.
“They won’t do it, but they know people who will do it. And again, if they can’t do it, Charles has a son-in-law who can do it,” she explained.
Last time I checked, hacking was a Federal crime — a felony I believe. This would be win-win because prison would solve my mother’s retirement community decision making problems.
In her 3-minute message, my mother also dispensed career advice. “You’ve been out there in La-La land a bit too long. Why the hell couldn’t you keep the job at the post office down in Richmond?” she asked.
I’ve never worked for the post office, but I hear they have nice benefits. And guns.