The Fix Is In

The other night my neighbor, Fireman Joe, stopped by my house asking me to fix his computer. It's a PC running Windows XP, and the problem he was having was that the icons kept disappearing and re-appearing.

Okay, I know that Macs and Linux systems don't have these problems. I get it.

*Deliberately long pause for the Mac and Linux users to get the snickering out of their systems*

Now on with the story.

Apparently, Fireman Joe, never got the memo that I don't fix computers anymore, I audit them.

Fireman Joe: Hey. So ya think you can come down and fix my computer?

Me: You know I don't do that anymore. Right?

Fireman Joe: Whadda ya mean? I thought you worked with computers.

Me: Well yeah, but I don't fix them. I audit them.

Fireman Joe: So? What's the difference?

As I went into my standard audit-speak explanation about how I evaluate system risks and render informed opinions, I could see the Homer Simpson-esque expression on his face take hold. You know that look. The disinterested, glazed-over look in his eyes, and the drool slithering from his mouth told me it was time to can the excuses and help the guy out.

"All right, Joe," I said. "I'll stop by later and take a look."

So there I was last Tuesday night, watching his desktop screen flicker and wondering "what the fuck is this?", which is step 1 in my process for fixing systems. The process goes like this:

1. Stare at the screen and ask, "what the fuck is this?"
2. Politely ask the system user/owner what they were doing right before the problem started without it sounding like an interrogation.
3. Stare at the screen again and check to see if the system has a running firewall, anti-virus and malware utilities, and bitch if it doesn't.
   
4. Bitch about the fact that people still use Internet Explorer.
5. Take another deep breath and remember that these types of problems are not always of the ID-1o-T system user/owner type.
6. Fix the problem, or give options if the problem can't be fixed (e.g.: Sorry, but you're going to need a new hard drive).
   

I spent a total of 6 hours over two separate nights figuring out what was wrong. Eventually, I fixed it using the Spybot Search and Destroy program, but that wasn't my first choice to solve the problem. In fact, it was my last choice and desperate one at that.

I ran MSCONFIG to disable some unusual programs from starting up. I scanned for unusual services in the Microsoft Management Console and found nothing, and checked the system registry for signs of malware. Nothing.

By 10PM Tuesday night, I had made very little progress. That's when EQ started dropping hints that it was time to go home.

EQ: What time do you get up for work in the morning?

Me: 5AM.

EQ: Shouldn't you be in bed already?

Me: Nah, I don't need a whole lot of sleep.

EQ: But aren't you tired from such a long day?

I got the hint. As I was walking out of their house, I told them I need to do some research and that I would come back with an answer. I was not giving up.

What I learned the next day was that the culprit behind the case of the blinking icons was a nasty virus called virtumonde. Google's search engine was a big help here because my initial search of "explorer.exe problems" led me to a bunch of different links advocating the use of Vundofix.exe. I downloaded it and copied it to a memory stick and called Fireman Joe the next night with the good news.

"Stop by tomorrow," he said.

"Sure thing," I replied "and it won't take as long as Tuesday."

Promises. Promises.

Not only did the Vundofix.exe program not work, but neither did HiJackThis!, Ad-Aware, AVG Anti-spyware nor the free version of Norton Internet Security 2008. Two hours into night number two, I was back at Step 1. Shit! I was ready to call it quits when I noticed (in between icon blinks) that the Spybot Search and Destroy installer was on their machine. I decided to give it a try. It was now 9:45PM and EQ was getting antsy again.

EQ: Should I call Geek Squad?

Me: No. Let me try the Spybot.

EQ: But don't you have to get up early for work?

She agreed to let me continue and became even more antsy when Spybot didn't catch the problem. But then a screen popped up asking if we wanted to update to a newer version of SpyBot. "What can it hurt?" I asked EQ. "I'll install it and you can monitor it to see if a problem comes up."

That did the trick. Not only did the updated version find the virtumonde.dll file that was causing the problem, but it also found several malicious registry settings that disabled the Windows Update component that keeps Windows systems patched.

EQ was elated. I was relieved. After the system restarted with no blinking icons, I downloaded and reinstalled AVG Antivirus and the ZoneAlarm personal firewall, and was out their door by 10:30PM. Before I left, I asked EQ again how come the system had no firewall and antivirus program installed.

EQ: Oh. My sister's boyfriend said that taking it off would speed up the computer.

I wanted to call her sister's boyfriend an idiot, but I realized that I had already run Step 3 twice and that it served no purpose to validate Step 6.

What I also realized is that the excitement and satisfaction I get from auditing systems is nowhere near as exciting as fixing them. Anyone else having a problem with their PC?

The End Of Religion...

...class.

Today, 13 became a soldier of Christ. He was confirmed. In the eyes of the Roman Catholic Church, he's a man.

Somehow, I don't think he really cares. In fact, I know he doesn't. Religion class and all those hour-long weekly sessions of catechism are done. But you couldn't tell that from the pained expression on his face as he processed into church with a gazillion other 13-year olds making their confirmation. He looked more like a skel on a "perp walk" than a kid taking part in a solemn procession.

It even killed him to wear a decent outfit. He work a pair of khakis with a striped blue Oxford shirt, a Navy blazer and a tie that barely matched. Look at him with his head of Roger Daltry hair. Does this kid look like he'll ever want to wear a suit and tie when he gets older? Fuck. I hope not. Please don't take an office job like your dad. In fact, if my plan works out, I'll be leaving my office job, too....to drive trains. But that's a post for another day.

Back to 13.... Part of the Sacrament of Confirmation is having to choose a confirmation name. The name is supposed to have some spiritual significance. Most kids choose names in honor of someone they admire or a deceased relative. 13 had other ideas. His choices were Jebediah (a variant of Jedidiah) and Zebedee because "they are names in the Bible", and because he found them funny. He finally settled on Zebedee.

E. was was not amused by his choice and called him on it.

E.: C'mon, can't you choose a normal name like Paul or John?

13: No. They said I could choose a name in the Bible and I want this one.

E.: I have to hand it to you, I least I know you're paying attention in church because I know you're not reading the bible at home.

13: So what's your point, mom?

E.: Well, if you want the name Zebedee, you're going to have to research the name for me and tell me who he was.

13.: Okay...I'll use John.

And so it went. The ceremony lasted an excruciating 90 minutes with most of it being chewed up by the auxiliary Bishop of Rockville Centre, Paul Walsh, who delivered a most uninspiring sermon based on a sappy Keanu Reeves movie "Hardball", to which he gave absolutely no credit. Somehow he melded that feel good story into "the sanctity of life", which is code for "I'm about to read you the riot act on abortion." Yes, the Bishop gave his abortion schpiel.

When the moment came for 13 to stand before the Bishop and give his confirmation name and receive the blessing, E. was very worried he would say Zebedee. I was taking bets on it, but no one bit. I would have lost. He gave the name John.

There is some good that came of this event.

For one, he doesn't have to go to religion class ever again.

Two...my family was in one place long enough to snap this picture.

Three...I finally found a new online name for 13.

Congratulations Zeb! You are now a man!

Happy (Ending) Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day to all my blog friends who are mothers, who want to be mothers, or who are not mothers but had to endure hours of traffic to be with their mothers. I hope you all had a wonderful day.

E. and I had a relaxing, if not subdued Mother's Day. Rick and 13 made her cards, The Eldest baked her first cake -- a yellow cake with chocolate icing -- and even went out and spent her own money for all the ingredients. She did a great job on her first solo attempt. It's hard to tell from this shot, but the boys noticed The Eldest's cake came out a bit lopsided, and being the annoying brothers they are, had to needle her about this fact. Funny how they had nothing to say as they shoveled huge chunks of it into their pie cake holes.

Aside from the cards and the cake, this Sunday morning started no differently than any other: I run out for bagels and the paper, we eat and talk and figure out what's on the day's agenda, and then E. herds the kids to 10:30AM mass while I stay home to take care of some errands around the house. I'm a heathen remember?

But not today. E. took a pass on Sunday service, opting instead for a well-deserved manicure and pedicure. "I'm going to use the money your mother gave yesterday to get the extra special massage treatment," she said.

I let her statement float there for a moment before asking, "Does that massage come with a happy ending?"

The smile and roll of her eyes would have been response enough, but she let the words escape her lips anyway, "Silly! It's not that kind of place!"

Yeah...like she'd tell me if it was.

At Alecto's Request

Fellow blogger Alecto tagged me with this meme a while back and I've finally gotten around to doing it. The meme works like this:

Go back through your archives and post the links to your five favorite blog posts that you've written. ... but there is a catch: Link 1 must be about family. Link 2 must be about friends. Link 3 must be about yourself, who you are... what you're all about. Link 4 must be about something you love. Link 5 can be anything you choose. I think this is a great way to circulate some of the great older posts everyone had written, return to a few great places in our memories and also learn a little something about ourselves and each other that we may not know. Post your five links and then tag five other people. At least TWO of the people you tag must be *newer acquaintances so that you get to know each other better....and don't forget to read the archive posts and leave comments!


Link 1: Family
This post is about a trip I took into the New York City with my family last September. We went in to spend an afternoon with my brother Joe, his wife Janette and their son Lucas. They live in Morningside Heights, which to me is one of the most beautiful neighborhoods in Manhattan. I chose this post not for what it says in words, but what it says in pictures. I tried to select the ones that reflect most the magic of that day, but here's a link to the rest of the pics we snapped.

Link 2: Friends
This one was an easy choice. I've been playing softball with these guys for years, and despite our many life changes and challenges, we've managed to keep the team going. This year is season 9 for the Mohawks and right now, we're chasing the league with our 0-4 record. But there's a whole summer of softball to play and lots of beer to consume. We're still "...a fraternity of imperfect men who simply want to play a game for the fun of it." Indeed, we will. Play ball!

Link 3: Self
I wrote this letter to my father several years ago when I gave up on my Roman Catholicism and my belief in God. I consider this the most difficult post I'd ever published; not so much because it describes my path to atheism, but because it describes the man whose life I've tried so hard to emulate. My father's shoes are still too large for me to fill.

Link 4: Something I Love
Poetry. I've been writing in this form for as long as I've put pen to paper. While I do a great deal more narrative writing on this blog, I have countless notebooks of my poetry that would attest that this is the writing I prefer to do most. I've published 14 poems on my blog of all of which I am proud to share. The one I've linked to here is one of my favorites.

Link 5: Wildcard
It's post number 57. I couldn't choose one, so I asked Eileen, my wife, to pick a number between 1 and 125 -- the number of published posts on this blog. The post she chose contains links to performances by my brother-in-law, David Mullen, at the Triad (in NYC) on October 10, 2007. He performed two numbers from is new CD, Mahoney's Way. He's awesome, but I'm biased. Click through to the link and take a listen for yourself.


I know I'm supposed to tag five people to tag, but I can't really think of anyone at this moment. Anyone reading this post is welcome to take a crack at it. If not, then at least follow the link above to Alecto's site. She makes a mean challah bread when she's not killing her tomatoes.

Missing Buckets

The Mohawks new softball season started for last Saturday night. We lost 15-3 and 13-7, which isn't so bad for a team that didn't practice much.

By our own admission, we stunk. We didn't hit well. We didn't field well. And when my eyes and my right hand finally agreed on exactly where to place the ball for strikes, the ball ended well beyond the left center field fence.

Not only did we play poorly, but we almost started our first games of the season short two players. We only had 8 of our guys were on the field, and needed 10 to start the game. We could play with 9 or even 8, but it would make for some very tired outfielders, especially since we play two 7-inning games. When that happens, you can do one of two things: forfeit or ask a player you know from another team in the league to fill in.

While forfeitures happen, it's not a cool thing to do because there's another team that's also making a commitment to play. Typically, you sign 15 or more guys on your roster to avoid situations like these. But life happens, so you do the next best thing -- try and grab a fill in player. That conversation between desperate manager and fill-in player goes something like this:

Manager (on cell phone with a regular player): Whaddya mean you can't make it tonight? You're at a what? A christening of your wife's 2nd cousin's 6th child? You gotta be kiddin' me.

(Manager closes cell phone).

Manager (to no one in particular): Oh great...now I only have 8. Hey potential fill in, you feel like playing tonight? I could use a guy.

Potential fill in: Sure. I'll help you out tonight. Where do you need me to play?

As a former manager, I've had to do this alot despite my best efforts to hand out a schedule and follow up with e-mail reminders. None of it ever worked. This is why I quit managing the Mohawks. But when I was the manager, there was always one guy I could always rely on to fill in for us in a pinch -- Gennaro "Gerry Buckets" D'Ambrosio.

Buckets was a retired union painter and one of the founding players of the softball league I play in. I met him about 9 years ago when he was in his early 50s and nowhere near past his prime athletically. He could hit, field and run better than alot of his younger contemporaries, and hardly ever missed a game. From the stories I heard, the play I witnessed was nothing compared to how good he was when he was in his 20s and 30s. Back then, the older timers tell, there was none better that Buckets. All agreed that he was a "gamer" -- a good, reliable, team player.

This was the reason why we asked him to join the Mohawks in 2004. That year, when me and my friend Dave decide to "overhaul" our team, we brought in a bunch of new players we considered gamers. Buckets was one of them.

Or at least I thought so until he rang my door bell one night before the start of the 2004 season to borrow some money. I gave him a $20 and he was really grateful for the cash, promising me he's pay it back the next day. I didn't see him again for the next 6 weeks. I later learned from his best friend Donnie that he went into rehab to get treatment for his drug habit. According to Donnie, he was a recovering heroin addict who fell off the wagon when his wife of 25+ years died of sudden illness. She was the love of his life.

When he returned after his rehab, the first place he came to was to the ballfield to ask me and Dave if he could rejoin the team. Our instinct was to say no because we feared the other players would object to having him around. Who's to say he won't go on another bender and steal money from someone's wallet when they're not looking? On Donnie's advice, we let him stay on under the condition that he stay clean. Donnie reminded us that before this instance, he had been clean for years and that we could trust him to stay that way.

But we didn't keep him because we felt sorry for the guy. Dave and I kept him because we needed good, reliable players. He was a gamer. While he was a sweetheart of a man who certainly deserved a second chance, we really didn't know much about him, except from what Donnie told us. All we really knew was that he could play. What we didn't know was how much playing ball meant to him, particularly since the death of his beloved wife. He needed to play. It made him happy.

It didn't take long for Buckets to show his appreciation. A few games into his return, he was regularly going 6 for 8, slapping singles and doubles to all parts of the field. We had him hitting sixth by the end of the year, which is the baseball equivalent of the cleanup hitter. He drove in lots of runs from the 6-hole, and was a probably our most valuable player the year we won the league title the following year.

That same year we won the league title, I had some major renovations done on my house, and would often show up at games bitching about the work being done. Buckets asked me who would paint the house after all the sheetrock work was done. When I said I didn't know, he offered his services. The area that needed to be painted is roughly 1,250 square feet, and E. and I knew that we would probably end up doing the work ourselves because it would have cost us nearly $5,000 to do the job. Buckets did it for $1,400. We supplied the paint, the brushes and fed him breakfast and lunch for two weeks. He did painted the house and kept Chester company when he was on a break. Even though we insisted on paying him much more, he would not take a dime more than his asking price.

He did some great work on our house. In fact, I wish he was still around because I probably would have hired him to paint our basement as well. Buckets passed away in early 2007 at the age of 60, after going into the hospital for surgery on his lungs. He was a heavy smoker and I thought that he went into the hospital to get treatment for cancer or emphysema. I never got a full explanation of what caused his death other than that the surgery was supposed to be minor, routine procedure. He never made it out of the operating room.

But why I really wish he was around is because he was a great guy and a great team player. He was always ready with a handshake, a smile, and an encouraging word, especially on those nights when my pitches couldn't find the strike zone, even if you drew me a map. It was nights like last night where the Mohawks really could have used Gerry Buckets.

Yeah Buckets. If you're around, we could use another player.

Father Doesn't Know Best

Yeah...we're both Mets fans and we're representing the Red Sox this year. So what? It's not like he's playing for some other team like the Indians!

These shots are from last Sunday's game. On the left, Rick and I were having a little strategy session over near 3rd base, while the Pirates were making a pitching change. I asked him to try and steal home, on next wild pitch because our team was only up 6-4. Given the way we were hitting, I figured we needed to score more runs anyway we can.

Rick argued that he should stay put at third and let the new pitcher try and get out of the jam on his own. "If he's wild, I'll walk right in. If he's not we still have the bases loaded for the top of the lineup."

I was unbowed. I insisted on the steal.

He listened to me and took off for home when the Pirates pitcher uncorked a wild pitch. The ball hit back stop and bounced a foot from the catcher who was waiting for Rick as he chugged for home.

Walking back to the dugout, he shot me glare that said "I told you so." When the frame ended without any more runs scoring, I got a "Nice job, Dad!" from under his breath. He was pissed.

And he was right. I should have listened to him about not stealing home. My blunder allowed the Pirates to climb back into the game and tie it up in the 6th inning. The game ended in a 6-6 tie because of the time 2 hour and 15 minute time limitation. We could have won the game.

I tried apologizing to him after the game because he seemed pretty upset. He wouldn't let me. He gave me a hug and said, "It's just a game, Dad. You did your best."

Then he asked me for a few bucks for some candy and a soda.

What? Did you think he'd let me off the hook that easy?

Taking A Breather

Sometimes life gets in the way of writing. I'm no different than anyone in this respect.

There are hurdles like work, baseball games, school projects, and other obstacles (like Youth Center vans) that take priority over the really important task of blog writing. I just need to work through them and, unfortunately, I haven't been able to post as much as I'd like to.

But I'll get back to it. I know I will. Just as sure as the sun rises and trains delay on the Long Island Railroad, I will find another Don Zirkel to rant about. I will have something to share about myself and my family and friends.

But for now, I'm taking a breather, sitting on the bench and watching my teammates do their thing.

Peace and love to all on this fine April 15, 2008. Hope all is well for my friends out here in blogland.