The pimply faced twinks who sit in their parents’ basement and write malicious code for computer viruses have motivations that are largely beyond my understanding. I am sure that when they get hoped-up on Mountain Dew and Ritalin that they have animated chat sessions with their friends to brag about the uber-cool coding they just finished. They cost the world economy billions of dollars a year in lost productivity and they think that’s hip – fine. They are not my problem. The demented asshats who design adware viruses, however, reflect a particular kind of stupid.
By their inverted logic, if sufficiently pestered by pop-up ads, a victim will submit and purchase something from one of their bottom dwelling clients.
It started innocently enough – an email forwarded from my Only Slightly Sleazy Lobbyist Friend to a political video I had to see. One accidental click led me down a path to computer hell. Adware viruses burrowed deep into my operating system and bombarded me with advertisements for the next 60 hours. I utilized every technical trick in my not insignificant arsenal to no avail. Uninstall this, delete that, restart. Rinse. Repeat. For. Hours. The affair that began Sunday afternoon finally ended on Tuesday night.
Dear Adware Idiots, and Lowlife Clients, if I ever see you or your clients, first I’m going to kick your ass and then I send you a bill for my time. What makes no sense to me is that even if I wanted the sleazy services you provide, I would rather take a flame thrower to my own cock than buy something from you. Surely there is a special place in hell reserved for your kind.