Text Posts

WordPress 6.2.1 changelog:

Block themes parsing shortcodes in user generated data; thanks to Liam Gladdy of WP Engine for reporting this issue

As a reminder, from Semver.org:

Given a version number MAJOR.MINOR.PATCH, increment the:
1. MAJOR version when you make incompatible API changes
2. MINOR version when you add functionality in a backward compatible manner
3. PATCH version when you make backward compatible bug fixes

As it turns out, just because you label it as a "security" patch doesn't make it OK to completely annihilate functionality that numerous themes depend on.

This bit us on a number of legacy sites that depend entirely on shortcode parsing for functionality. Because it's a basic feature. We sanitize ACTUAL user-generated content, but the CMS considers all database content to be "user content."

WordPress is not stable, should not be considered to be an enterprise-caliber CMS, and should only be run on WordPress.com using WordPress.com approved themes. Dictator for life Matt Mullenweg has pretty explicitly stated he considers WordPress' competitors to be SquareSpace and Wix. Listen to him.

Rarely is the question asked, "Is our children tweeting?" This question is likely nonexistent in journalism schools, which currently provide the means for 95+ percent of aspiring journalists to so reach said aspirations. Leaving aside the relative "duh" factor (one imagines someone who walks into J101 without a Twitter handle is the same kind of person who scrunches up his nose and furrows his brow at the thought of a "smart ... phone?"), simple (slightly old) statistics tell us that 15% of Americans on the Internet use Twitter.

(This is probably an important statistic for newsrooms in general to be aware of vis-a-vis how much time they devote to it, but that's another matter.)

For most journalism students, Twitter is very likely already a part of life. Every introduction they're given to Twitter during a class is probably time better spent doing anything else, like learning about reporting. Or actually reporting. Or learning HTML.

I know this idea is not a popular one. The allure and promise of every new CMS or web service that comes out almost always includes a line similar to, "Requires no coding!" or "No design experience necessary!" And they're right, for the most part. If all you're looking to do is make words appear on the internet, or be able to embed whatever the latest Storify/NewHive/GeoFeedia widget they came out with, you probably don't need to know HTML.

Until your embed breaks. Or you get a call from a reader who's looking at your latest Spundge on an iPad app and can't read a word. Or someone goes into edit your story and accidentally kills off a closing </p> tag, or adds an open <div>, and everything disappears.

Suddenly it's "find the three people in the newsroom who know HTML," or even worse, try to track down someone in IT who's willing to listen. Not exactly attractive prospects.

Heck, having knowledge of how the web works would probably even help them use these other technologies. Not just in troubleshooting, but in basic setup and implementation. In the same way we expect a basic competence in journalists to produce their stories in Word (complete with whatever styles or code your antiquated pagination system might prescribe), so too should we expect the same on digital.

Especially in a news climate where reporters are expected as a matter of routine to file their own stories to the web, it's ludicrous that they're not expected to know that an <img> tag self-closes, or even the basic theory behind open and closed tags. No one ever did their job worse because they knew how to use their tools properly.

I'm not saying everyone needs to be able to code his or her own blog, but everyone should have a basic command of their most prominent platform. It's time we shifted the expectations for reporters from "not focused entirely on print" to "actually focused on digital."

Poems for our "bureau" reporter in Santa Fe, whose stories I'm always left waiting for when I'm laying out:

Sitting at my desk
wondering if you're still alive
unmoved either way.

Four stories at noon
two out, two new by midday;
none ever find me.

He's slaving away
Interviewing, contacting;
AP filed at 5.

A blank page, staring
waiting to be filled with news ...
Angry Birds high score!

The downside of biking to work is I have to interact with people. To wit:

Our HEROINE is biking to work, since she lives like six blocks away and gas is well north of $3 in New Mexico. After a minutes-long coast (it's mostly downhill), she arrives at work and begins to lock up his bike.

FRIGHTENING BLOND WOMAN, who was lurking behind the building, comes around the corner talking loudly on her cell phone.

FBW: I don't know, I don't have the money.

Our HEROINE is doing her best not to listen, as it doesn't sound like a fun conversation to be dropping eaves on. Due to the volume the conversation is conducted at, however, she has no choice.

FBW: I don't have the money to file papers! If I have to go see a lawyer, I'm gonna go bankrupt.

At this point, our HEROINE realizes she's overhearing a discussion about divorce. Though the woman is glib, it's difficult to tell if she's joking or not. Her face is strained, even when smiling, giving it an almost movie-like quality - as if, at any moment, you'd expect her to pitch forward with an arrow sticking out of the back of her head.

FBW: Well if you're just going to die, I won't have to worry about it. I'll just be a widow, no problem.

Our HEROINE finally manages to work the lock, clicks it into place, and fairly runs into the building.

See, you can give me the environmental, physical and financial benefits of the bike versus the car all you want, but at least when I'm in my car I don't have to deal with the insanity of others. It's not like I'm deficient in that category myself.

Yesterday was Moving Day; as is tradition, that means today is "Not Moving Day," owing to the soreness from yesterday.

Moving is supposed to bring about an onslaught of different emotions: a twinge of nostalgia at leaving the place you've called home, sadness at altering/losing the different interpersonal relationships you've developed at said location, and excitement or trepidation at thought of what's to come.

I don't know that exhaustion can rightly be counted as an emotion, but the depth to which I feel it now seems to indicate it should at least be in the running.

After the third or fourth major geographical upheaval in 12 months (with a few minor phase shifts as well), moving just doesn't have the same impact anymore. Sleeping for the first time under a new roof felt just as comfortable as sleeping under the old one, which is to say "not very" because I never really "settled in" to the old apartment in the proper sense. Despite living there for eight months, the overly spacious two-bedroom apartment treated me more as a guest in a motel room than a permanent occupant.

Sure, I have some memories. The hideously overweight 40-some-year-old creepster who lived on the ground floor and sat outside his apartment 80 percent of the time, whiling away the days smoking, eating peaches or painting his fingernails a flamboyant hunter orange. That wouldn't have been so bad were it not for his completely obvious leering at women half his age or whenever he'd get in the mood to go shirtless.

Or consider the Albertson's grocery cart in the parking lot that mysteriously disappeared and reappeared on no set schedule, without rhyme or reason. Nothing says class like an Albertson's grocery cart.

Obviously, it wasn't all bad. Friends came over, drinks were drunk (and drunks kept drinking), movies were watched, great books were read and many a sleep was slept. But none of this served to dispel the ever-present air of transiency.

I'm now in Spokane, more specifically Browne's Addition, working at a job that seems pretty damn perfect for me (more on that later). The hope is to keep this apartment for quite some time, to break the moving cycle. At least long enough so that the next time I have to move, it actually means something again.

I realize that former Gonzaga basketball player Josh Heytvelt was trying to give a heartfelt interview and express his remorse over being arrested for possession of 'shrooms, but there's a reason why athletes usually have people talk for them. This quote is why:

Heytvelt was ordered to do 240 hours of community service. He did more than 300, working primarily with terminally ill children at a Ronald McDonald House. "That really made me think that those kids aren't choosing to have cancer. They're given that," Heytvelt said. "I realized I had made some really bad choices and that really made me think about every choice I made from then on out."

Two questions: Did Heytvelt previously think those children had chosen to have cancer, and who did he think gave it to them?