UPDATE: Since this story was originally written, we've seen "Mists of Pandaria," Warlords of Draenor," "Legion," and now, "Battle for Azeroth." The menace remains unabated. 

No secret I play WoW. Love the game. There's only one problem: Spiders.

Typical scenario...  I'm on my gnome warrior, questing because that's what I like to do most.  I'm level-capped, so this is a daily quest. Tol Barad. I approach the quest-giver.

"Delrick," he says, because that's my character's name, "We have a problem. The woods are filled with spiders.  We can't fight the Horde and the spiders at the same time. Do us a favor, and kill a bunch of those spiders for us. Twelve should do it. We're proud we can count on heroes like you to prevent our soldiers from getting spider guts on their shiny, shiny armor.  I'm just making up shit jobs for you to keep you 'amateurs' out of the way of the professional soldiers, mind you, but I'd never say that out loud. Did I just say that out loud?"

We were all told that the original Jon Postel Memorial Edition Internet Protocol Address Space, would be a limited edition run of around four billion, and that the production run of Jon Postel IPv4 addresses would be limited by raw numeric constraints, and that the set would not be extensible. Now that remaining supplies are limited, the price of the original Jon Postel Memorial Edition Internet Protocol Address Space can only go up with time. That's why the Franklin Mint is introducing this limited run of double-struck 14-carat gold-plated copies of 10.0.0.1. Now, you too can own a piece of history. For just four easy payments of $199.95 each month, it comes complete with a certificate of authenticity. This authentic IPv4 address space, although not publicly routable, is nonetheless recognized by the IANA as valid IPv4.

As the world moves on to a more robust, flexible and indeed, LARGER IPv6 address space, your Franklin Mint double-struck 14-carat gold-plated  10.0.0.1 will become a legacy collectible keepsake you can be proud of! Call NOW to reserve your piece of history!

I've known my friend, Andrea Dolan Potter since before high-school. These days, she works over at The Progressive and lives in Wisconsin. We somehow still manage to get together on occasion despite moving in vastly different circles.

I owe Andrea Dolan Potter an apology.

It was 1968. It was summer. I was four, soon to be five, and Casey Clark was my best friend in the entire world. We played with our GI Joes and were going to be astronauts. That year, a fire swept through the hillside west of our home in Lemon Grove. It was enough to convince us that we didn’t want to be firemen like the other four-year-olds did. That year an earthquake, common enough in California, split the house across the street right in two.