The pharma hack is a virus that attacks WordPress based blogs. Its symptoms turn up in search engines, giving posts the appearance of spammy pharmaceutical advertisements. It even finds its way into your RSS Feeds.

(Related, you should subscribe to our RSS Feed. It’s painless and now disease free!)

The pharma hack is one of the stupidest things I know about. I am disgusted just typing its name. The good news is that it’s (mostly) gone now. Here’s how we got rid of it:

1. Tim, a gentleman and scholar over at Baby Got Books, pointed out the problem.
2. A few minutes of research led to this extremely helpful post on how to rid yourself of the pharma hack.
3. The wonderful people at Lampe-Farley Communications rolled up their sleeves and got busy combing through our code. (Even with instructions, it’s not an easy fix.)
4. We waited for Google et al to crawl our site to ensure that the pharma hack isn’t turning up anymore. The less popular posts aren’t scanned as often, so some posts still appear hacked.

It’s been a terribly unnecessary and time-consuming experience. In addition to those named above, I would like to thank some very well-timed beers for helping us beat the pharma hack.

The morals of this story: (a) if you have a WordPress blog, make sure that it’s updated; (b) if you have the pharma hack do not seek antibiotics! Instead, seek out this glorious post at Pearsonified.

]]> http://www.wrensnestonline.com/blog/the-wrens-nest-conquers-the-pharma-hack-were-pretty-sure/feed/ 2 http://www.wrensnestonline.com/blog/parks-and-recreation-someone-is-trying-to-alter-a-gazebo/ http://www.wrensnestonline.com/blog/parks-and-recreation-someone-is-trying-to-alter-a-gazebo/#comments Thu, 06 May 2010 20:24:41 +0000 Amelia http://www.wrensnestonline.com/blog/?p=8269 Did y’all see last week’s Parks and Recreation?  First of all, it was pretty darn hilarious, if my cultivated sense of humor and I do say so.

Second of all, did you see how it showcased my worst nightmares?

I don’t understand why they’re framing Amy Poehler/Leslie Knope’s reaction here as over-the-top.  It seems underplayed, if you ask me.  In fact, I think a phone booth quick change and cape would be appropriate in circumstances like these.

This clip below actually made me gasp and hide my face behind a cushion, as I’m wont to do when something is HORRIFYING. (Or when someone is singing and it’s making me embarrassed for them, but that’s neither here nor there.)

This show, and in particular these scenes, do such a great job contrasting how people view history.  For some, it’s our foundation; for others, well, don’t you think it could use some freshening up?  I mean, it’s so old and outdated. Yuck.

You know which camp I’m roasting marshmallows in.

Also, if you’re wondering why Lain and I insist on chaperoning any event that’s using inside space at the Wren’s Nest, you have your answer.

Two animal rights groups have appealed to Mayor Reed to keep the elephants out of the show, and PETA made an unusually tasteful protest last week with a sad pachyderm statue in Woodruff Park.

Now, I’m not here to use this space to argue either way — though it should be noted that, all PETA disparaging aside (and believe me, I had to curb it), I LOVE elephants.  I went through a pachyderm phase circa 1991 that was unparalleled, featuring an evolutionary pictograph (thank you, Kids Discover magazine) and a barf-green sweatshirt with an African elephant standing in purple grass.  Note: I hate purple and should never, ever wear olive green, but the elephant on the front triumphed over good sense.

Nope, I’m here to talk about the elephant tooth we have here at the Wren’s Nest.

Once upon a time Clio the Elephant was the biggest attraction at Atlanta’s Grant Park zoo.  When Clio died, parts of her body were gifted to noteworthy people, including our very own Joel Chandler Harris.  He kept her molar on his desk at the Atlanta Constitution.  We like to have kids guess what it is as part of the tour.

Kind of a horrifying practice, right?  But also a product of the times.  We use this example a lot when people deride Harris for being insensitive or un-PC — also known as “a person who lived 100 years ago.”  As usual, our argument remains: present judgement should be reserved for present situations.

That said, you may believe that circus elephants are a relic of an ignorant time gone by, and I don’t think I disagree.

• Pink-Top

• Red-Top

• Our friend of the ensanguined fore-top

• Molasses-Haired Humorist

• Vermilion-Pate

• Naughty Boy of the Savannah Morning News

Amazing insight into JCH’s life courtesy of Stella Brewer Brookes and her tome of greatness, Joel Chandler Harris: Folklorist.

I’m pretty sure this also serves as a list of sweet nothings the Pecanne Log ladies whisper into Thomas Wheatley’s ears.

Larbalestier wrote a Young Adult novel with an African American protagonist — a compulsive liar who decides to stop, but finds doing so more difficult than she imagined.  Bloomsbury Publishing picked up the novel and chose a cover for the novel featuring a picture of a white girl.

Commence controversy.

Larbalestier, who is white, speaks gracefully about the situation, but is quick to concede the following: authors do not have final say on their covers.  But to say the very least, she is openly displeased.

Now, hold onto your britches: this isn’t a new issue for authors.  In fact, none other than Joel Chandler Harris faced the same problem when it came to illustrations of his black, fictional protagonist, Uncle Remus.

The Uncle Remus that Harris created was a tribute to the slaves he admired and respected during his youth on Turnwold Plantation.  Harris considered the original illustrations of Uncle Remus to be condescending caricatures that didn’t do his character justice.

Doesn’t exactly conjure up thoughts of wisdom and worldliness.  Publishers believed that a minstrelized Uncle Remus would sell better than a more authentic illustration.

Over 100 years later, the same problem persists in a big way.   Novels featuring African Americans on the cover are usually promoted differently, and thus do not sell as well as novels with covers featuring white folks, perpetuating the issue.  Frustrating.

I urge you to read Larbalestier’s blog post — she discusses the situation thoroughly.  And just for the record, the Australian cover has nobody on it at all.

UPDATE, August 8, 2009: Here’s the new North American cover.  (h/t @russmarshalek)

The monsoon season that Atlanta has seen this spring slowed our roll a little.

Like the yellow, the trim color is a little bit different than before –

Some of the color difference is due to weathering, but some of it is also due to our historical paint analysis, completed after the house was last painted.

The paint job has made a tremendous difference.  Here’s what one back corner used to look like –

And here’s the same area now –

If you’re using your eyes, you might notice that we now have copper drain pipes.  If you’re using your brains, you might wonder if this is a risky proposition.

I’m here to tell you — it is!  Depending on the price of copper, theft can be a serious issue.

Before, we’d had a mix of copper and galvanized piping.  We decided to install the copper pipes after much deliberation.

If the copper gets stolen, it’ll be my fault.  We’ll replace ‘em with galvanized metal, and chalk it up to stupidity, idealism, or mismanagement.  All of the above is another option, but it’s one that I’m more comfortable with than not trying at all.

Here are some rather leading questions you may have –

1. Say, isn’t copper historically accurate?
2. I could understand installing copper in a swanky neighborhood like Buckhead, but in West End?
3. Isn’t this proposition a little bit like the moral dilemma Alexander Hamilton faced when dueling with Aaron Burr?

And here are my answers –

1. You betcha.
2. I don’t think that criminals discriminate; we probably shouldn’t either.
3. Maybe a little bit, yes.*  At least at the 1:40 mark.

Anyway, copper?  What copper?  Nothing to see here.  Just new paint.

* The Wren’s Nest does not condone binge drinking, not even for the sake of history or telling a good story.  Well, maybe this one time.

The biggest tip-off was probably the fact that the “news” was reported in a calm, informative manner.  Let’s be serious — if Song of the South really were to be released, our blog post would most likely read something like this:

GACK!  Song of the South — released!  Excitement!  No, for real!  Big things poppin’!  It’s happening!  Who wants to get a beer or twelve?!  Guys!  The movie!  Money?  Maybe!  Oh man oh man oh man.  Gotta answer the phone!  Big news!

Perhaps we should write a post now, with clear heads, to keep on hand just in case. That way we won’t sound like a fleet of monkeys with typewriters hopped up on goofballs when it really does happen.  If it really does happen.  Fingers crossed.

Anyhow, happy April 2nd!

Man, I love old-timey things.  If only I could find a job that supported my interests!  Oh well.

What I especially love about this are the reassurances in the ad.  Electricity was a very new and very foreign thing in the 19th century, after all, and not everyone was ready to drink the Kool-Aid.  Or, since Kool-Aid didn’t exist, toddies.

Believe it or not, Mr. Joel Chandler Harris himself was one of the wary.

Above is the gasolier in the West Parlor.  Our gasoliers – aka gas chandeliers – have gas lamps on top and electric fixtures on the bottom, making them a unique artifact and representing a very specific slice of history.

Now, to be fair, Harris didn’t purchase these (for every room of the house) simply because he thought this electricity business was a fad.  When electricity was first offered, it only came in during certain hours of the day, and no one wanted to be left in the dark after the electric company called it a day.

Logic-based, that’s our guy.

Or… not.  You see, Harris was also “cautious” about riding a streetcar while wearing a wristwatch, convinced as he was that these two would combine to make him explode. Or stop time.  Or create a black hole.  We’re not really sure.

So what does a well-respected man do to hide his crazy?  Why, he buys identical wrist watches and builds a secret drawer in his desk, of course.

That way Harris could slip off his watch before boarding the dreaded streetcar, and surreptitiously replace it once he got to work.

Don’t worry, Mr. Harris.  Your secret is safe with me.

Sure, there are useful things down there, even historic things.  Problem is, it is mighty hard to find and identify these worthwhile items among the mountains and valleys of garbage and treachery.

So we decided to get ‘em out of there.

Our unwanted items will be seeking temporary residence in this POD, the likes of which I am noticing everywhere now that I know they exist.  I love it when that happens.

Anyhow, with our Board Chair Marshall at the helm and several community service workers doing the dirty (well, dusty) work, we have managed to open up gateways to parts of the basement previously unreachable.

Clearing out all the junk revealed a filled-in fireplace.  Neat.

But, if I know anything about our basement–and I think I do–this fireplace probably leads to unseen realms or something terrifying like that.  Nannie doesn’t refuse to go down there for nothing.

Speaking of terrifying, all of this de-cluttering has really shined a light on our DIY foundations.

This legitimately may be holding me up right now.  We’re about to enact a museum-wide No Jumping rule.

Here’s the bottom.  Notice the brick-thingy-as-anchor.   I feel so safe right now.

This is just the tip of the iceberg; the potential for unfathomable depths of garbage is very, very high.

We’ll be sure to keep you up to date on our findings.

(Gallant executive director LAIN SHAKESPEARE prepares to leave the Wren’s Nest when the doorbell rings.  CRAZY WOMAN IN PINK, who had been seen mysteriously rolling a suitcase around in the back yard, appears at the door. LAIN does not know she is crazy.)

LAIN: Hi!  Are you here for a tour?

WOMAN: Yes!  May I come in?

LAIN: Actually, we closed at 2:30.  And normally I’d let you come in but I’m running late.

WOMAN: Aha!  Will you be open tomorrow?  And how much does a tour cost?

LAIN: Yes, and it’s $8 for adults.

WOMAN: Would you charge me if I said this was my house?

(LAIN cannot respond to this question and stares vacantly for nine beats.)

LAIN:  …yes, I think I would.

WOMAN:  But this is my house.  I built it.  So you’re going to charge me to see it!?!

LAIN: (voice cracking) …oh?

WOMAN: Yes, I built this house with my husband and my brother.

LAIN: (pointing to the house) Are we… talking about… the Wren’s Nest?

WOMAN: Yes!  In fact, I have things planted all around the house.

LAIN: Things?  What kind of things?

WOMAN: (ignoring this) When my husband and I divorced, we decided to keep this house as neutral ground.  So we can both come here.

(LAIN squints real hard, as if it will make this woman make sense.)

WOMAN:  At least, that’s the way it is until I can move all my stuff out.

LAIN: What kind of stuff do you have in here?

WOMAN: (smiling wide) My Ouija board.  And Jumanji.  Have you ever heard of Jumanji?  Say, is this house haunted?

LAIN: Ma’am?  I don’t think so.  Do you have somewhere you can stay?

WOMAN: This is my house.

LAIN: Yes, but I mean for toni–

WOMAN: (emphatically, but with a smile) My house.

(LAIN and WOMAN exchange awkward goodbye, ending the most confusing conversation that has occurred on the premises in recent memory.)

–
EDIT, 1:59 PM:  (Editor’s note–In my rush to get everything down on paper, I totally forgot the wackiest part!  Please forgive, and you can insert these lines anywhere above where it makes sense.)

LAIN: So, um, what’s your name?  How long have you been in the neighborhood?

WOMAN: I am the mother of time.