I'm not passing the buck, but if you read something in this space that you don't like, don't blame me. I just write it.

The people responsible for getting my prosaic prose to the MDJ where the editor then places the commas in the proper places (which is never close to where I originally placed them) and expunges anything libelous (like what I really think about Cobb school board member Dr. John Crooks' observations on gerbils) is a group in Smyrna called The Tech Savers. I pray for their health every day.

A little background: This column is written on a laptop computer with a lot of bells and whistles, including a special feature that ensures it will go kerflooey on (a) deadline or (b) the weekend, whichever comes first. This unique program is designed so that everything just sits on the screen frozen like a ham-and-Swiss sandwich at a Vermont picnic in July.

Sometimes a message pops up on the screen saying that my j.peg is no longer speaking to my .exe and needs a configuration and that I should call my system administrator for details.

I must confess that at the Yarbrough Multinational Media and Pest Control Company, we haven't gotten around to hiring a system administrator at this time, although that is high on my "to do" list behind finding a termite inspector.

The only person who might serve in the interim as administrator is the Woman Who Shares My Name. But I won't ask her. She hates computers worse than I hate broccoli and I would never dare mention to her that my 'j.peg' and my '.exe' are no longer on speaking terms. She would stuff broccoli up my nose.

Without my computer, I would have to resort to writing out my column in long-hand.

The problem with that is I can't read my own writing, let alone expect somebody else to read it. I can picture the editor trying to figure out where to place commas in a sentence that starts "Hixgb kicwa fwef."

On top of that, the editor could expect a cranky call from John Crooks saying "kicwa" is Swahili for "gerbil." Then a lawyer would write a snooty letter about me and use a lot of Latin phrases. Gays would tell the editor that this further proof that I need sensitivity training and squirrels would throw acorns at him on The Square.

Editors have a hard job.

That is why I call my pals at The Tech Savers. If my computer is a pit bull, they are the dog whisperers.

Jeremy Cummins is the firm's CEO and a graduate of - must I say it? - Georgia Tech. Founded in 2000, The Tech Savers has prospered since they discovered this technologically challenged user sitting on their doorstep.

But I am a fast learner. Under Cummin's personal supervision, I now know where the "on/off" button is located and we are now busily involved in what happens after that.

It is no small coincidence that Aaron Myerson, one of the three principals in the firm, has a special degree in professional counseling from Georgia State.

That skill comes in handy when I call and scream that the doo-hickey that blinks when I turn on my computer isn't blinking anymore and if I don't get my column to the MDJ in the next 10 minutes, Ecuador will invade Poland and we will all die. It is due to his calm nature and quick thinking that war has been averted. So far.

The third member of the team is Sean Almack who attended Kennesaw State and specializes in all the new gadgets that keep popping up in the business.

Because I have impressed him with my computer savvy, he has urged me to write a book on computers and then he will bill me by the hour to figure out what I said. I think he is making sport of me, but I won't ask. My computer needs him worse that he needs my computer.

We are quite a team. The Tech Savers and I.

That reminds me: I need to call the guys and tell them my hard-drive suddenly sounds like my momma's old washing machine. I think 'j.peg' and '.exe' are at it again.

You can reach Dick Yarbrough at yarb2400@bellsouth.net or P.O. Box 725373, Atlanta, Georgia 31139.