I’ve just spent two solid workdays duking it out with some motherhumbling botnet that’s attacking a server that belongs to one of my clients. The machine is still serving up web pages at a trickle rather than its usual zippy pace, but the data center dorks wouldn’t even answer my question about whether or not we could get a firewall in front of the server. There’s a router there that has packet inspection abilities, but I don’t know if it’s even the one routing traffic to the server. I wish I could dedorkify the data center dorks and get a real firewall between the machine and the internet, but dedorkification is pretty much impossible once the dork reaches age 25.
I guess this is what I get for surviving long enough to get more than three decades of working in my field behind me, eh? I don’t mind, really — a billable hour is a billable hour, and it’s mighty nice bagging those billable hours right here in my home office. It makes me a little bit crazy right in the moment when I can’t get good sense to penetrate a dork’s thick skull, but billable hours baby. The more other people fuck things up, the more I get paid to defuckerize those things. Works fer me!
Here’s the big ole dude that’s been mashing down the grass in our back yard and pooping all over it, too, photographed while he knocked around across the alley:
The photo is fuzzy because the lens was dirty, but look at those antlers! It’s good that he’s hanging out in town. Hopefully he sticks around until after hunting season so he doesn’t become a wall decoration. I had to mention him because he’s also a D-word, but one that didn’t fit the title well because he’s not part of my dork diatribe. He’s an appendage.
Oh! Another D-word! Dope, as in the smoking of. Doin’ da dank dope, dude. That’s next on the agenda, now that I’m out of D words.