(continued from: Java Wars: Attack of the DBAs)
A short time ago in a corporation pretty near you...
Bobby H, Spazter's boss, walks into the meeting room and completely freaks out when he see that we have launched a full assault against the J-Tards. I really don't understand why he's so surprise. How else are you supposed to deal with J-Tards? It's what Larry would have done. Bobby H demands that we put a stop to this insanity and solve this issue in a civilized manner. Blah blah blah. Friggin retard. He obviously does not understand the J-Tard threat. He needs to understand. Just as I was going to speak up, Spazter and J-Tard Jorge step in to explain everything to him.
They are going to lie.
They tell him that this is a joke they plan to play on Ricky C, Bobby H's boss, for his upcoming birthday. They tell him we were just doing a trial run to see how it will go. Before long Spazter and J-Tard Jorge got Bobby H so buttered up that the three of them were sharing a hearty laugh about this incident. God, management is so gullible. They tell Bobby H to keep it under wraps. Bobby H gives us a big thumbs up and walks out the door.
When the door slams shut, J-Tard Jorge and Max Spazter resume their attack positions. They look like two alpha-male wolves about to do battle. Spazter says, "Fighting won't work" and J-Tard Jorge replies, "Agreed. Let's get back to the reason why you called the meeting."
Damnit! Spazter can be as dumb as management sometimes. We had our chance to completely annihilate the J-Tards and he decides to call off the full assault. I'm upset. I'm so upset that I'll need to make a trip to Redwood Shores, CA. I need to get more of Ellison's beard trimmings from his barber so I can use it for my anger management therapy.
Just as I'm about to lose my temper and go postal on another J-tard, Spazter tells me to present the propaganda, err research, that shows stored-procedures are superior to Hibernate.
Everyone in the room settles into a chair waiting for me to begin. Everyone has varying degrees of injuries. It looks like an emergency waiting room after a huge disaster. I see that Fake RL is unconscious so I help her onto a chair. She is a good soldier and deserves the ultimate honor for beat the living daylights out of the tardest J-Tard of them all, Fake JS. I see Fake JS in the distance. He is unconscious as well. I can barely recognize him because Fake RL and I got in so many good punches. Fake JS is a total wuss - he definitely can't fight like a man much less a woman. I begin to laugh uncontrollably, but Spazter asks me to focus on the task at hand and I do.
I begin to present all the damning evidence against Hibernate and show how stored procedures are able to solve everything from software development to world hunger. Thirty minutes into the discussion, J-Tard Jorge cocks back is head, puts his hand on his head, and releases a scream that echoes across the meeting room.
He realizes the errors of his ways by getting in bed with Hibernate.
It's the Revenge of the DBAs.
The J-Tards are doomed! Their complete destruction is at hand because their leader has faltered. Muhahaha!
J-Tard Jorge speaks up, "This an excellent presentation. I see your point Fake Jeff. What you say makes sense. I see that stored procedures do have a place in this company's technology stack."
Management is so gullible...
J-Tard Jorge continues, "Spazter, Fake Jeff did a good job. I realize now that Hibernate and stored procedures can coexist."
Spazter approves. J-Tard Jorge and Spazter shake hands.
Damnit Spazter, we were suppose to completely annihilate Hibernate! Not coexist with it! Management is so dumb. Oh well, we have marked our territory and the J-Tards now understand that they don't mess with anything with Larry Ellison's stamp of approval. Beside I cannot take up another fight right now because my ribs are really sore and I lost one of my contact lenses.
This is a victory in my book because I beat the hell out of the tardest J-Tard of them all, Fake JS. The J-Tards now have an example of how I will mangle their face if they decide to cross Larry or myself.
Meeting adjourned. I put Fake RL on my shoulder to carry her out. She wakes up and tells me, "Call my sister, she can attend to my injuries." I do so. It's the least I can do for her.
This is a good day. I get back to my office. I close my eyes and imagine myself flying through the clouds with Larry Ellison in his plane. I am at ease. I am happy.
[Editor's note: Due to the fantastical nature of these chronicles, I have decided to make sure readers have access to a different point of view so that they may decide for themselves what is real about this fake blog: Click here to see Fake JS's chronicle of this event]