The Meat of the Matter

Death would be far too merciful ...

My computer played host to the "Bagel" worm last night. It slithered it's bits into my life without my doing anything dumb to deserve it. It foiled my files, impurified my parity, disgraced my disk, and reamed my RAM. One man's solution is to put virus writers to death. I am not far behind him, for I feel death would be too good for the kind of vermin who violate our vocations with virii. (I'm in an alliterative mood, it seems.) Short of death, he should be forced to swallow, digest, and excrete an entire box of Brillo pads®. Or, he should be forced to sit under a flourescent light whose flashing pattern is dissonent with his own vision, entering data into a green-light CRT in a sensory deprivation cubicle, fixing all the corporate crud his virus has caused. Or, he should be strapped to the boat and forced to ride "It's a Small World" at Disneyland, while a giggling Gilbert Godfrey forces him to eat tofu. Submit your suggestions for punishments. Make my day.