There’s a Tracking Device In This Blog

I read a very strange thing today.

Apparently a woman appeared on the Today Show Wednesday to tell the tale of how she outsmarted a thief and was able to keep her property and get out a call for help.

A man entered her home, bound her to the bed, and started to rob her of all her most awesome possessions.  When he reached for her precious laptop however, the woman told him that it contained a tracking device and that if he took it, the police would be on to him like Darkwing Duck chasing down MegaVolt (my words, not hers).  This thief, brilliant man he is, believed her and decided it best to leave the computer behind.  Now I don’t know what kind of Batman PC he thought she had, but when I hear the phrase “tracking device in my computer,” I think of three possibilities.  Either she’s James Bond, she’s a convicted former hacker, or she’s full of it.

But then again, I don’t burglarize homes for a living.

So, after careful consideration, our beloved thief left the technologically damming evidence behind and made his triumphant getaway.

Our heroine then, still bound to the bed (which I’m picturing as the traditional “Moose and Squirrel” train-track scenario) began to work her magic, using her feet to type out a distress call to her boyfriend over IM.  That’s right, IM.  Now me personally, I would think the message read a little something like this: “OPI*t*&fg&^dfNWVNF98t*(&CTfA79DIBOI3%$#@”

Apparently this woman is a far better foot-typist then I am.

But we’ve all tried it, at least I think we all have.  We’ve all had that moment where we’re curious just how close to our monkey roots we still might be.  You’re sitting on the couch.  You drop the lid to your Yoo-Hoo.  Bending just seems like far too much exertion.  So you slide on down the cushion, reach out your foot, spread your toes as wide as they’ll go and grapple on with all you’ve got.

I’ve spent damn-near four minutes trying to pick up that cap before finally giving in and reaching down with a long Nick Nolte-style sigh to use my hands.

And yet this woman, our heroine, is flawlessly typing a manuscript toe-by-toe.

Dearest Love, how are you? How’s your morning? Me? I’m bound to the bed and typing with my toes. The police? Oh, please…if you would be so kind…

Our heroine’s very proper in my head.

And it worked.  Her boyfriend got a message to the police, the black and white came and saved her, and though she may have lost a few possessions, she gained one hell of a story.

But as for us, what WE’VE gained here today… I now know the secret to protecting my belongings in the rare case the Beagle Brothers come to rip me off.

What’s that, Mr. Robber? My 50-Inch Plasma? You don’t want to take that. It’s got a tracking device inside.

That $50 in my wallet? Yep. Tracking device.

What is that, a walkman? No, you’re good. No tracking device in there.

It’s brilliant really, supposing your criminal is a buffoon.

I guess the idea never came to him that if the computer really did have a tracking device, wouldn’t our heroine WANT him to take it?  The cops could then track the computer, the robber, and everything else he stole to his exact pinpointed location?

I’m just saying.

But alas, if YOU’RE criminal is as dumb as HER criminal, then we’re golden.  And when it’s all over you can go on the Today Show and provide people like me with a strange little moment of oddity in an otherwise boring day.