Blog fixed… I think…
After carefully examining what I could of the HTML code in my WordPress installation, I concluded that the best way to get rid of the reported injected spam links was to “nuke the entire site from orbit. It’s the only way to be sure.” – in other words, back up the blog database, delete all WordPress files, re-install WordPress and then import the backed-up database. I had contemplated moving my blog over to somewhere else, like LiveJournal or wordpress.com but I thought I’d give Dreamhost one more chance.
Of course, I’m going to take some better precautions, as recommended by some friends. These include:
- Not installing random themes and plug-ins for the sheer hell of it. If I don’t like it, delete it.
- There are some handy plug-ins that claim to provide better security, to whit:
WordPress plus Dreamhost = hacked WordPress blog
I host my main blog on Dreamhost, using WordPress. This may have been a fatal mistake.
A while ago, someone emailed me to kindly point out that my site had somehow been hacked, and spam links injected into my HTML code. It wouldn’t appear on the site to human eyes, but it’s all there in the HTML code and picked up by Google et. al.
I changed all my passwords (Dreamhost, WordPress, FTP), removed the hacked code and thought the problem was over.
Oh no. It’s just come back. Only this time, I can’t figure out where the code is. And since I changed all the passwords to begin with, it means that either Dreamhost or WordPress has become seriously compromised. Although naturally my Google-fu is failing me and I can’t figure out where the problem’s come from. Although this post gives one indication.
Now I’m debating whether to carry on with this blog or move to yet another blogging platform like LiveJournal or something… bah… Or I could give up. It’s been six years, after all…
Can you hear the people sing?
As I speak, there is the glorious sound of a gospel choir working their way through a bunch of classic hymns and not-so-classic modern pop tunes.
This would be great, if it was not Friday at 4pm, they were on the ground floor of the building I work in and only the bottom two floors (those belonging to BBC Worldwide) are enjoying the party, complete with mince pies, wine, DJ and glitterball. In the meantime, the wage slaves up above have to – in theory – keep working.
It wouldn’t be so bad if I hadn’t arrived back at the BBC just when the Christmas party limit was slashed, so my “departmental” Christmas party last week was at a bar, and consisted of some free drink – and far too late – some very unChristmassy canapes. Although I’m lucky I got to go to one at all, I suppose…
Then again, my first BBC Worldwide Christmas party was quite an eye-opener. I’d only been working for a week, and got shepherded to the party at Heaven, which included girls dancing in cages, and ice sculptures where you could drink vodka from an ice woman’s breast. This was 1997, mind you…
Bloody stupid fuel protestors
Yet again, Britain’s lorry drivers are reacting to the rise in fuel-prices by launching a demonstration across London and disrupting traffic everywhere.
While I applaud and support their right to protest, their Canute-like stance against rising fuel prices (“cut the tax! It’s making us uncompetitive!”) doesn’t exactly address the reasons behind the tax rises. Sure, part of it is about raising money for the evil government – but part of it’s also about trying to encourage people not to drive so much.
What happens when petrol goes above £2 a litre? £5 a litre? That future isn’t that far away – and the more these lorry drivers try to deny the future and think about the present, the worse the problem gets. Find other ways of transporting, cut down on your costs. Or wait till the government nationalise your industry, if it is so important to the logistics of the country (which it undoubtedly is)
For these reasons, all these fuel protestors make THE LIST.
Metrolink and Waterstones, you're on THE LIST
Today, I decided that I really ought to buy a book on accessibility guidelines and web usability. Eschewing the Internet bookshop options, I thought I’d venture into Manchester Central and get the book from Waterstones. I called them, and they had it in stock, so fine. The website said they were open till 7pm, so fine. Unfortunately, the Gods would conspire against me on this.
First of all was the problem of heading into Manchester. I meandered down to the local Metrolink, bought my ticket, and waited. And waited. And waited. Eventually, a tannoy announcement said that the line was closed but there was a railway replacement service instead. Unfortunately, it had just decided to leave when the announcement was made, and thus I had to wait a long time for the long one. Then it started to rain.
The replacement bus eventually arrived, we got on, got off at the station, waited in the rain at the station till the next tram arrived, then I got off that. And walked through the rain at Manchester city centre towards Waterstones.
To find it had been closed early for a stock-take — someone could have told me that. So I had to trudge home again, repeating my journey in the pouring rain. Having not bought anything at all. The whole trip took me three hours, all in all.