Last night I played Civ 5 with my son, put the kids to bed, made myself a little snack, and sat down to enjoy crushing the skulls of ghouls in the radioactive wastelands of New Vegas with my trusty re-bar club. When I turned my screen back on, I was greeted by a plethora of window popups, warning me a sector of my hard drive had failed. I panicked. I have years worth of writing on there, five almost-finished novels, and a short story collection I'm epublishing next month. I pressed the proffered button to attempt to let windows fix the problem... and was told I could only do it by purchasing a program. Yes, I had fallen victim to the new malware craze, the File Recovery virus. (If this ever happens to you, follow these instructions.)
OK, listen up Joe Biden. Stop exaggerating about the evils people downloading movies and go after the psychopaths who make these viruses. The damn thing actually shut down my computer while my protection software was trying to remove it, and almost completely fornicated my hard drive. If that had happened, I would have scoured the earth for the guy who made it. I would have tied him down, lacerated his skin with a thousand paper-cuts, bought a pig with intestinal diseases, and have it shit all over him. That is the rage I feel for people who mess with my writing.
Oh yeah, and the moral of the story is, I need to back up my frigging data more often.