…And We’re Back
This entry is dedicated to my dear friend George who is very probably the only regular visitor to this website–even I don’t visit it that much. So a few weeks back, just as I was ready to get online and finish a draft blog, post it and pat myself on the back for such a heroic action, he e-mailed me to say my site wasn’t there. I got on and sure enough, my site had been hijacked by a beautiful blond lady peddling designer knock-off perfumes. And if she had featured a link to just one of my essays or the cover of my book, I probably would have let her stay, because she was way prettier than me. But she had no room in her virtual life for anything but perfume, so I was forced to take action, which consisted mainly of a full-blown tantrum of the over-40-I-don’t-understand-all-this-web-technology-I-text-message-isn’t-that-enough-for-you-people variety.
I spent a week getting bounced back in forth in e-mail between my dual domain name registrars ( I don’t know why I have two, and if you ask me why I will hold my breath and kick and scream). It was a long enough time for me to reflect that although e-mail hasn’t changed the “pass the buck” customer service routine, it does make it easier to call both parties to task for doing it.
Of course it turns out to be all my fault, anyway. Those e-mails I kept ignoring about renewing my domain name registration should have been the first tip off. But I had thrown some money at the web host when I renewed with them–didn’t that count for something? Who knew you have to pay someone annually for the right to use your name online? And in fact, if you DO ignore those pleas to renew, your name goes into a domain name jail and then you have to pay way more money to bail it out. AND if you still don’t buy it back, it goes to an “auction,” and god knows who can get their hands on it then. I can just picture visitors of the future: “Oh hey, that author who wrote a book about her dad in Holland during WWII runs a porn site now–how sad what people will do for money…”
And then it was this thought that paralyzed me: I have to pay to renew my domain name forEVER. Faw-e-vah, as we say here in Massachusetts. Even a mortgage payment stops after 30 years, and other “forevers” such as marriage and taxes must succumb to the grim reaper. But what will happen to my domain name? Will my son have to keep renewing it after my death? Can I have it destroyed so it never falls into evil hands that are sexier and prettier than I am?
Or do all the unrenewed domain names end up in the virtual dust bin, occasionally rummaged through by bargain hunters or e-archeologists. “Oh look at this one: sandradeden.com. That was such a turn-of-the-century fashion, to name a website after yourself. No screen name, can you imagine? They had no idea what they were doing back then. Let’s see what else we can find out about her…says she wrote a “book”–wonder what that is–and then turned it into a porn site…how sad what people did for money…”
You can hijack the name, but not the woman! What were they thinking? That they could take your brilliant social commentary and bottle it up into a cheap perfume? (Note to self: Talk to Sandy about cheap perfume idea if the writing thing doesn’t work out.) And rest assured, I’ll always be a ‘regular’ to sandradeden.com even if it turns porno. If fact, in honor of our dear friendship, I hereby commit to visiting your porno site on a daily basis for at least an hour……maybe two……ok, probably three
Comment by George — June 29, 2008 @ 12:17 pm
That’s the crazy underbelly of the web. What seems momentary, spontaneous, little more than a typed exhale into the wind, is a permanent commmitment. I ought to be thrilled about this, as I can now possess something forever that I don’t have to put somewhere in my apartment. But I hate it. The whole web is a permanent marker. There’s the old expression for not saying what you will later regret: you can’t unring a bell. Online, the bell can ring forever. This is my way of saying, who knew your site came with a mortgage, and that you would have squatters. At least it doesn’t have a porch to paint. Yikes, dear.
By the way, Hi George! Recently I told someone a story you may not even remember, about the time you called a certain adult ed. establishment on a weather-cancellation day and swore at me, as a joke, because you thought I knew it was you on the phone. I didn’t know. I responded to your language. You ‘fessed up, giving me the best laugh I ever had in all the years I worked there. OK, everyone, back to La Deden for you…
Comment by Lin — July 5, 2008 @ 11:36 am