| 9:00:00 AM
Started full backup of homesteads. Sent the output to device NULL so it goes fast.
Geo Server Tech A: "Hey, Geo Server Tech B, come take a look at this."
Tech B: "Looks like there's about 15 megs missing from the 'E' drive."
Tech A: "That's /SiliconValley isn't it."
Tech B: "How should I know, I'm just here to kick the server every so often to keep it running."
Tech A: "And swear at it."
Tech B: "Yeah, on a good day... I mark down all server-swearing as 'Overtime'."
Tech A: "Think we oughtta see what happened to those megs?"
They look at the clock, then each other. "Naaah."
Being the Bastard Geo From Hell means never having to worry about server problems during lunch break.
Tech A (on 3-hour lunchbreak): "Wonder what happened to those 15 missing megs. Oh well..."
Being the Bastard Homesteader From Hell means never having to pay for GeoPlus.
---- (Techs A and B return from lunch to see if their erotic videos have finished downloading yet.) --
Tech A: "Hey, check this out."
Tech B: "Cool. Where did you get an 'Uncle Sam' screensaver that plays music?"
Tech A: "Dunno. I don't remember installing it..."
(Techs A and B decide to go back to lunch, leaving Windows NT to crash itself and swallow some more hard drive space. Tech C returns from lunch break, carrying "Tetris Attack" and a bag of Loundy's pizza to keep him occupied in the computer room.)
Tech C (leaving computer room to pee, runs into other 2 techs): "Cool. Where did you get that screensaver with the 'Uncle Sam' that runs around your desktop eating files?"
"Mr. Boneheadt, we've got bad news and we've got bad news."
"Okay, what's the bad news?"
"GeoMark ate all the cookie dough ice-cream."
"Oh my God! Then what's the less-bad news?"
"It appears that our entire outfit has been infected with a computer virus."
"Yep. It got in there somehow, we don't know how (it had NOTHING to do with that dial-a-porn client we installed), infected the AdFarce server (causing it to begin self-modifying its adforcedownyourthroat() code libraries) and also destroyed several of our Neighborhoods without a trace. As you know, GeoCities policy is to direct our weekly backups to /dev/null for optimum efficiency. This of course has the unfortunate side effect that no data is actually backed up."
"What is our plan of action at this point? How will we deal with this issue?"
"Use the petty-cash fund to buy more cookie dough ice-cream, Sir."
"No, I mean about the virus. Techs?"
Tech A: "(Hmm, good question.) Tech B? Any ideas?"
Tech B: "Umm, Tech C, any ideas?"
Tech C: "Idunno. Wait, humans catch viruses too, right? I thought so. Hey GeoTynan, what do you do when you come down with something?"
GeoTynan: "Oh, come to work as usual and let all you guys catch it..."
GeoTJ: "Cough, cough, sniffle... Thanks a lot. I think I'm going to take the rest of the week off."
Tech A: "So... That means..."
Tech B: "Exactly! Business as usual."
Tech C: "We will keep all servers, including the infected hostile-coding AdFarce server, running just as they were. We will establish a committee to establish a committee to decide what is to be done with the virus. In the meanwhile, we'll ignore the problem and hope the homesteaders don't notice."
(A few seconds later...)
GeoMark's Web browser: "You've got mail! Downloading: message 1 of 14,067..."
(a very distraught) GeoMark: "You aren't going to like this... Apparently, a few homesteaders noticed. Um, just a few....hundred...thousand..."
GeoTJ, downloading several terabytes' worth of flames from angry GeoPlus: "Uh-oh, I think we got a meltdown here. Get me the Excuse-O-Matic -- STAT!"
Boneheadt's indentured servant returns, lugging a large, computerized "See & Say"-like device with a monitor. GeoTJ boots it up and sets it spinning...
Round and round the Excuse-O-Matic goes, where it stops nobody knows...tickticktick.tick.tick..tick....tick.....tick.
"This is all Microsoft's fault!"
GeoTJ: "That can't be right...If Microsoft wrote this virus it would be too large to fit on our drives."
GeoMark: "No, let me try it.."
"We do not currently know what the he** is going on, but I have half a mind to forward this question to our chief monkey-with-a-script when he gets back from vacation next week. We WILL get to the bottom of this. (Or relatively close.) In the meanwhile, stay tuned for more runarounds and ambiguous Clintonesque rhetoric that doesn't even come close to answering the question asked!"
GeoMark: "No, we've used that one too many times before..homesteaders will get suspicious."
GeoTynan: "Don't just stand there, spin it again!"
(GeoMark spins the Excuse-O-Matic.)
Tech C: "Cooool! I've never seen THAT shade of blue before!"
GeoMark: "OK, WHO put geopops on the Excuse-O-Matic?!?!"
"Oh No..No...NOOOOOOOOO! You know what this means-- This means we'll have to CRAFT AN EXCUSE MANUALLY!!!!"
"That's it. We're doomed."
GeoMark's Girlfriend: "...That sounds like a real pickle you're in. I've got an idea.. I'll give you some killer excuses to placate your homesteaders and get out of this jam, Markiepoo, all you have to do is (whisper, whisper..)"
GeoMark: "NO WAY! Does this look like an Oval Office to you?!? Besides, those braces of yours really scuff me up!"
"Look, you want your excuses or not?"
GeoMark: "Oh, alright damn it..."
(sound of GeoMarks office door closing, a deadbolt being engaged..)
-- Meanwhile, the on-duty BGFH continues in his journal... --
Being a Bastard Geo From Hell means never having to guess at other people's passwords.
Being a Bastard Geo From Hell means payback time for all the times those mean old bullies used to beat me up in high school. Now I get to be the bully. It's fun. I can be the biggest A--hole I want to be, and NOBODY can stop me! Hahahahahaa!!
-- Meanwhile, the BxHFH continues a journal of his own... --
Being the Bastard (ex)Homesteader From Hell means never having to wait very long for your pages to go back up.
Hah. K-line, my a**.
-- The Bastard Geo From Hell's journal continues... --
(The BGFH goes home and watches Ninja Turtles, leaving the techs to ignore the virus on their own. End of page 1.)