This industry moves so fast, I can’t even give my annual awards a name that lasts. How can I honor those companies and individuals whose tireless efforts have us all screaming at our computers, if I can’t give them an award with a meaningful name?

When I started rewarding stupidity, self-centeredness, and stupidity more than a decade ago, I called them the Friday Awards, after an Ashton-Tate database program that died a quick and spectacular death. But who remembers Ashton-Tate? Maybe Ashton and Tate. Then I dubbed them the Pentium Awards, after a certain Intel processor that needed remedial math classes. But now the Pentium II (which can add, thank you) is center stage, and besides, almost every PC has the word Pentium in its name. The blush if failure is off the rose, so to speak.

What I needed was a name that implies horrible disaster, isn’t likely to become a big success, and has already stood the test of time without being forgotten. And one more thing: It has to be about computers. The Nixon Awards won’t do.

And so, welcome to the first annual HAL 9000 Awards, a tradition since 1988. The HAL 9000 Awards are given to the people, companies, and institutions whose advances in computer technology may just get us all killed.

Best Show of 1998
Unquestionably the Microsoft/Department of Justice grudgematch taking place in US courts. It has everything: greed, power, witty repartee, video tape, and with Bill Gates, a villain you can love to hate. And the best part is that with appeals guaranteed, you know this saga will go on forever. If it wasn’t for that other guy named Bill, this would be the hot ticket in Washington.

The PT Barnum Award
With the iMac, Steve Jobs proved that a sucker is born every clock cycle. Put an under-powered Mac in a funny-looking case, apply massive advertising, and voila, a hit. The best trick of all: Find one specific test that measures one specific task on one specific component, and use that to prove that the iMac is faster than a high-end PC. Remember, "Think differently, not critically."

The Theodore Kaczynski Award for Friendly Mail
In 1998 I dared to say in print that Linux is not an easy operating system to install and use. I was immediately flooded with hate mail—something that happens every time I suggest that a non-Microsoft OS is anything short of perfect. My favorite letter, edging out even the reader who wanted to push me out a window, was Justin Bradford’s suggestion that if I found Linux’s installation routine too difficult, I should rewrite it. In other words, Linux is easy; the problem is users who can’t program operating systems.

The Rube Goldberg Award for Practical Technological Innovation
Syncronys Softcorp’s BigDisk fools Windows into thinking that the free space on all your hard drives is on drive C:. Great idea, huh? It is--until you decide to use it. Certain files must be on the real drive C:, and when that partition gets too crowded, your installation of Windows can go the way of Bill Clinton’s virginity.

The New Psycho Citation for Originality
Shouldn't a new version of a major program be, like, a new version? Not if the new version is Windows 98. For about $100, you get Windows 95 plus Internet Explorer, which is already free. Well, okay, you also get the exciting experience of installing a new OS, and wondering if you’re going to have a working computer when you’re done.

The William Raldolph Hearst Truth in Print Award
Another biggie for Microsoft. Last April, the Los Angeles Times discovered how Gates & Co. were planning to guarantee good press for Microsoft and its products: Plant positive editorials and letters to the editor in unsuspecting magazines and newspapers. But a company of Microsoft’s caliber would never stoop so low. After all, Microsoft makes the best software in the world, and we should all get down on our knees and thank Bill Gates for how he’s improved are lives. (No more from me, Bill, until that check clears.)

Best Year of the Year
The most exciting year of 1998 was, of course 2000. Or maybe 1900. Or just 00. Whatever you call it, the year that just ended was dominated by the next year after this one. People finally began to realize that, hey, we really do have a problem here, and maybe we should do something about it. But what? The two most common approaches are to a) ignore the problem and hope it will go away and b) go into a blind panic and start hiring septuagenarian programmers. But don’t worry. At the current rate, we should have all of our Y2K problems solved within the next six years.

© Copyright 1999 by Lincoln Spector

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