DATE: Sunday, August 17, 1997               TAG: 9708130109
SECTION: COMMENTARY              PAGE: J1   EDITION: FINAL 

TYPE: Opinion

SOURCE: DAVE ADDIS

                                            LENGTH:   60 lines

BEING FREE OF TECHNO-TOYS SEPARATES MEN FROM THE BOYS

The second-sharpest bite in the TV world was back in the news last week when a state crime lab linked DNA from sports-talker (or is that sport-stalker?) Marv Albert to nasty teeth marks on the back of a woman friend who has charged him with sexual assault.

If Ol' Marv is guilty of what he's been charged with, he deserves a paid vacation in a place where somebody yelling ``Time out!'' isn't announcing a stop in the action, but the daily half-hour in the exercise yard.

Whether Marv bit or didn't bite, the fascinating thing here is how quickly DNA testing is being used in relatively routine cases. Not so long ago, expensive and time-consuming DNA analysis was a last-ditch gambit in tricky homicide investigations. Now we're using it to prove whether a semi-celebrity broadcaster with a bad hairpiece is guilty of aggressive sexual deviancy.

Before you know it, home DNA test kits will be available for sleuthing such mysteries as who put the empty milk jug back in the fridge, or who left the top off the toothpaste.

Pretty absurd, huh? Not really, when you think of how fast technology is moving down the human pecking order. Remember, you used to have to spend half a day at the doctor's to find out if you had another little tax deduction en route. All you need now is a Dixie cup and a couple of minutes of privacy.

If you have a teenager, he likely has a computer that's faster and more powerful than the ones that tracked the early Space Shuttle missions.

Not long ago, satellite-driven global positioning technology was a military secret that Tom Clancy could build a spy novel around. Now, any bubba with a bass boat, a bucket of worms and about $250 can use a hand-held GPS the size of your cable-TV clicker to log the longitude and latitude of his favorite underwater stump. (And, if he's had one too many Budweisers, it will tell him which way to point the boat to get back home.)

Only a couple of years back, a belt-loop beeper - never mind a cellular telephone - was a badge of big-shottishness. The wearer probably was a surgeon on-call, or a hot attorney. Now, no self-respecting roofer or electrician is without one. (The janitors in my building can frequently be seen belting both a beeper and a walkie-talkie.)

So where's it go from here? If every hod-carrier has a beeper and a cell phone, what new toy will it take for a hard-charging young executive to announce to the world that he's headed for the top?

The answer is, nothing. Just plain nothing.

I'm guessing that, very soon, the ultimate business-fashion statement will be that the real power-brokers are those who refuse to be tied to the 24-hour beck and call of a beeper and a shirt-pocket telephone.

The true executive - the one whose suit is not bulging with electronic gear - will be saying, ``I'm too important to have my thoughts interrupted by the beeping and buzzing of a lot of Radio Shack geeky-gear. I'm above being tracked and summoned by toys.

``I refuse,'' he will say, ``to be roped and tied by technology.''

Of course, he won't be saying that if his name is Marv Albert. MEMO: Dave Addis is the editor of Commentary. Reach him at 446-2726, or

addis(AT)worldnet.att.net. ILLUSTRATION: Photo

Marv Albert's teeth

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