The hack writer was hacking away at the keyboard on his latest hack novel. He was right at the point in his period novel where the heroine on her fine thoroughbred pulls aside a rakish fellow trotting along on his hack when a message popped up on the hack writer’s screen. “You have been p0wned!” A computer hacker had hacked his system and taken over.
The hack writer was so mad he picked up his hatchet and started hacking away at that damn computer. He never did like that machine and the novel really was a hack job anyway. Nothing special. In his exuberance, though, he accidentally hacked off the end of his finger. “Crap, I better get to the hospital” he thought.
He ran to his car, but it wouldn’t start. So he hailed a hack. The hackie asked “Where ya going buddy?”
“Saint Mary’s ER please.”
The hackie stepped on the gas and the hack lurched forward. As the hack writer finally relaxed into his seat, he started hacking like crazy. The hackie said “Buddy, it sounds like you’re hacking up a lung. Time to quit the smokes. I gotta ask how many cigs do you smoke everyday?”
The hack writer’s phone rang, saving him from this conversation. He spoke for a bit, mostly saying he was sorry, he was sorry, he was sorry. Yes, he was sorry. He put the phone down and said, “Damn, I forgot my wife’s birthday again!”
“You should keep a To Do list man.”
“Yeah, maybe I should.”
“It’s the oldest and simplest, yet most effective life hack I know” said the hackie.
“Stop the car! Stop the car!” said the hack writer. Before the hackie had even brought the hack to a complete stop, the hack writer had the door open and was jumping out. “Narrow escape!” the hack writer though. “If I had stayed in there another minute, I might have found myself using the phrase ‘life hack,’ at which point I would feel compelled to shoot myself.”