Pardon the brevity. Brevity is the soul of wit. Then there's the other brevity which is the daughter of exhaustion. Here at Casa Maywrite we are exhausted. Winded but not whipped.

On the third of July we were ambushed by a computer virus bundled with a rootkit. The nasty duo wreak havoc while hiding themselves. It's been like a steel cage wrestling match with a masked tag team.

Right now I think we're winning, but every time I say that the villains come up with a new trick. They've got the registry in a choke hold or are climbing up on the start menu.

We knock of them to the mat but he's pulling a rocket launcher out of his trunks while the referee is yelling at a rowdy spectator in the front row.

Maybe it isn't a good analogy. I know as much about wrestling as I do computers. Which is not much. I mean, how do people take wrestling seriously? Isn't it obvious the bad guys bribe the refs to look the other way?