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Monday, December 4, 2017

HostGator's infernally Prolonged Online Chats │ Interesting Reports on Acupuncture, and Dogs' Contribution to Human Longevity

Following last evening's usual T.V.-viewing with my younger brother Mark, I do believe that I may have managed to get to bed ahead of 11:00 p.m.

It wasn't a great night's sleep, but it seemed to be sufficient. I was up this morning comfortably ahead of 7:00 a.m.

I had missed out on adding any further content yesterday into the post I am constructing at one of my hosted websites due to a database issue, so it was good to be back at it this morning.

However, I knocked off halfway through the morning's assignment, and began readying for a local grocery shopping expedition to Deepu's No Frills market about four blocks away in the Cedar Hills shopping plaza (96th Avenue & 128th Street) here in Surrey.

I left here at 9:48 a.m. And not only was it not raining, but there was a considerable amount of brilliant sunshine ─ I have grown somewhat unaccustomed to it.

There was only one incident at all meriting mention during the outing, and that was in the store. In one of the aisles I was sharing with a Sikh man, he caught my attention and drew me over to where he was checking out some honey containers.

He was holding a small generic-type container of honey, and pointing out a name brand of a similar size.

He would make some soft sounds, but I couldn't detect that he was uttering any actual words. 

A couple of times he put his fingers to his mouth as he singled out the name brand of honey.

The best I could do was assume that he was unable to tell if the two containers both held honey ─ perhaps the comparatively economically-priced generic-type honey had him doubtful that they were the same substance.

So on that assumption, I talked reassuringly, stressing that both were indeed honey, and that I would buy the one he was holding because it was cheaper.

Whether he certainly understood me or not, I cannot say. But he seemed to become fortified with confidence and with evident conviction; and brandishing the cheaper brand, he nodded to me and headed off. 

My youngest stepson Poté has booked this week off work, so he was still in bed when I got back home.

I eventually finished the morning's assigned work on that website post, and awhile later got involved in a so-called 'chat' session with an agent at HostGator.

I am unable to upgrade a WordPress plugin called Amazon Associates Link Builder. The newest version requires a PHP version 5.4 or higher.

Well, my cPanel claims that I have PHP 5.4. Yet when I downloaded a plugin called Display PHP Version, it declared that I only have PHP version 5.3.29.

So today I found where I needed to go in cPanel to upgrade my PHP version, and I followed instruction to upgrade to 5.6.

Yet when I later checked, the Display PHP Version plugin still read out that I had the 5.3.29 version.

And so I felt that I had no recourse but to get in touch with someone at HostGator. Unfortunately, there did not seem to be a simple E-mail contact option.

I first laid out my issue in their online chat, and then I probably had to wait 15 to 20 minutes before somebody initiated contact.

And what does the guy do? He goes ahead and types out a query as to what my concern was.

He never even bothered to read what I had first typed.

I condensed the issue to a pair of sentences and submitted my response...and then waited several minutes for a reply.

His response? He simply rephrased what I explained, asking if he is correct in understanding that I want to upgrade my account's PHP?

Bloody hell!

I knew what was going to happen, but I replied "Right!"

And then I waited several minutes until he returned and typed out something.

This time he asks what my website's name is.

And on and on it went. Anytime I typed something, he would disappear for several minutes.

It was blatantly clear that he was juggling a number of chat sessions with customers at once. And he was also stalling ─ he would ask the tritest questions just to keep up the illusion that he was hotly invested into my concern.

For example, after I typed out my website dot.com information, and then waited several minutes until he came back, he then asked if the website was...and here he preceded my website's name with an identifier comprised of two or three letters and several numbers, and in brackets after my website's name he supplied what looked to me to be the digits of an ISP address.

What on Earth?! He never explained what any of that meant.

I had to go to my cPanel to locate the website's name servers, and the digits there that appeared to be the relevant ISP address.

But it wasn't exactly what he had indicated.

I replied back about this, but I said that I had no idea what the first batch of letters and digits represented.

By the time I had found that information, he had already returned from where it is that he disappears to, so he was waiting for my reply.

He indicated that the ISP number he had quoted was somehow specific to my account, but he never explained anything more than that.

And then he disappeared again for several more minutes.

This nonsense went on until he had probably used up well over a half-hour.

Ultimately he did claim to have upgraded my website's PHP, but he said that it could take from one to three hours for the change to display.

Well, just over three hours have passed, and I just now logged into the website and checked the details displaying from the Display PHP Version plugin, and nothing is different ─ it still says version 5.3.29.

When my session with the HostGator agent ended, I was asked to complete a short questionnaire or survey on my service experience.

I was all set to strongly indicate that they had an enormous FAIL from me where timeliness was concerned.

But there were only two categories to rank: did the agent appear to be knowledgeable; and was he polite or courteous or something.

Well, obviously I could not claim that he was NOT knowledgeable ─ how could I base any such claim? He didn't need to hardly do anything.

And since he never swore at or belittled me, how on Earth could I say that he was anything but courteous?

So I suppose that I will go down as yet another hugely satisfied customer when they trot out their statistics for such things.

I don't actually know if he did anything. Maybe he finally got around to looking into my cPanel and saw that I had already correctly upgraded the PHP myself, but he never bothered to admit this.

Still...why hasn't the PHP version changed at my WordPress dashboard?

Gosh, that rant took far too long.

There were a couple of health-related topics I wanted to bring up, but I now do not have the time.

Maybe I will just refer to them in passing ─ you can check out the references if they strike your fancy.

I've never experienced acupuncture, but I believe that somehow it seems to work and hold much promise for many people.

The following two reports largely deal with a recently published study lauding the treatment:



One other topic I will squeeze in involves a study which has found that folks who own a dog benefit from that ownership by having an extended lifespan:




I am badly running overtime ─ it is already after 6:00 p.m.

I want to post a scan of a photo ─ the description beneath it is from the Google Plus album where I have the scan saved:

This photo must have been taken when my mother Irene Dorosh and her husband Alex were on one of their many holidays.

The reverse of the photo is date-stamped July 1989, so I am supposing that that was the month that the film was developed.

I do not care to speculate where this scene happens to be.
There were other similar rugged vistas taken that had the same date stamped on the photos, so there can be very little doubt that the location was in common:

And now I must rush this post to a close with this old journal entry of mine from 41 years ago when I was 27 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster.

I was renting in a private home located on Ninth Street, and not more than two houses up from Third Avenue.

It was now a Saturday, and my weekend thus far had been extremely full of events all essentially centred around drinking.

I begin this journal entry reflecting upon the vicious sucker-punch that a tall, husky young friend ─ Gary Iverson, or however his name was spelled ─ of my maternal relatives the Halversons had suffered the night just past at the biker-run Surrey Inn when he tried to intervene in the savage beating that a biker bouncer was delivering to a hapless young fellow who was thereafter to be taken away to the hospital. 
SATURDAY, December 4, 1976

Maybe after all it wasn't Mark who gave the information about Gary going to the hospital, and I may have the facts wrong; I seem to recall a phone call to Bill's last night.

I am leaving about 2:10 p.m. to phone Mark about my toque; if he's home and going to be there awhile, I may walk over.


Well, I received no answer, but decided to walk over anyway.

I met and greeted Reba (?) of S.A.N.E. as we crossed 8th St in front of the Blue Bird.

I was very depressed while at home, but my mind entered an oblivious rut once I got into the walk. 

Mark was home, fortunately, as so was my toque.

He passed me at the top of the bridge while heading into town for some reason.

From him, I learned that I did phone Bill last night about 3:00 a.m., learning about Gary's fate.

Anyhow, Mark was about ready to head to Glenda's or whatever her name is (Chris & Melody will join them later; their mill party begins at 8:00 p.m.), so I phoned the Vargas to see if they were going out tonight; Marie answered, but didn't know, as yet.

I told her I'd be over quite soon.

I came into town with Mark (we left just after 4:00 p.m.), and here I am, sprucing some.

I wonder what Bill will do tonight, being broke?

I didn't want to drink this afternoon, but I sure am in the mood now (I had a beer at Mark's). 

I'm leaving for the Vargas' at 5:00 p.m.
And I have no time to explain the entry ─ it is after 7:00 p.m., and my brother Mark is home. We will be watching T.V. for the evening.

My wife Jack should be showing up in a little while to spend the first of two consecutive nights here at home. 
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