The Daily WTF supplies programmers and system administrators with an amusing glimpse at the worst of their field. For me, it was a remote thing, another world in which incompetent people wrote distressingly stupid code. In the last few days, I seem to have stumbled into that world; a stranger in a stupid land.
You may have already noticed that some of my website photo galleries appear nuked. Emtpy. Here’s how a stupid person made that happen by being incompetent perhaps months previous: Gallery is the software that runs the galleries (whatever its faults, the name is appropriate). Each album is stored as a text file. Precisely, it’s a serialized php object. Whenever someone makes a change or a comment on the album, Gallery reads in the serialized object, adds the new data, and writes it back out to that file. Now, imagine the hard drive is full. A non-retarded coder would check that there was space on the volume before writing the file back out. Instead, Gallery writes until it runs out of space, then leaves the truncated file on disk. This truncated file cannot be read back in because it is corrupted, and appears to you and me as the empty galleries. Luckily, in their infinite wisdom, the authors of this software also write a backup copy of this serialized album data. They do this immediately after writing any changes to the primary file. Do you see where this is going? Gallery starts writing the primary, fails, and leaves the broken file on disk, then overwrites the backup file, also leaving it truncated and useless. Brilliant. I am trying to hack the serialized files directly; perhaps I can resurrect my Japan pictures, which apparently had thousands of hits before dying unceremoniously.
Then, of course, there’s the gem pictured on the right. After upgrading Mac OS X and restarting, I was presented with that dialogue. I believe it to be a window display bug rather than an actual blank prompt, but the point is I both did not know what the problem was, nor did I have any choice but to fix it. I could click on the question mark, yes, but such measures are a sign of weakness. Whatever I fixed, fixed it was.
On it went: The Bank of America website specifically recommended using Safari, but in practice did not function properly until I used Firefox, which they do not support. The Play It Again Sports website listed an address that did not map to a single location. This echoed similar problems Joel suffered, in which Google was provided incorrect longitude/latitude coordinates and sent him on a wild goose chase.
Then I caught a glimpse of the news on TV while lifting, and I remembered something. In fact, I remembered everything: Bush, Iraq, WMDs, Intelligent Design, Rick Santorum, unchecked genocide in the Sudan, tension over Iran driven by a collision of religious mythology and nuclear technology, Bin Laden threatening the US with impunity provided to him by the impotence of our President, thousands upon tens of thousands of dead Iraqi civilians and American troops while the media obsesses over a single white woman, pro-lifers being simultaneously pro-death penalty, and a thousand other insanities that have surrounded me my entire life. I wasn’t a stranger in a stupid land. It was my land. There were just a few moments there where I had managed to insulate myself, to pretend that reason and kindess prevailed, to not be saddened by a world that is only just becoming my responsibility.
There is so much talk of solutions. Politicians proclaim that they will create peace in the middle east. Bush insists that he will defeat terrorism. Nearly a hundred million people stood behind him, most with not the slightest idea what that meant or how it would be accomplished. The news has never, in my memory, done a serious analysis of the motivations of terrorists. Jealous of our freedom? That might be the most stupid thing of all. Because everyone talks about fixing things, but all they see, all they know, is a blank dialogue box with a button. “Fix.” It’s about time people started asking questions. We’ve gone too far without clicking on the question mark.