XML-RPC problems

I mean, how do all these ... cash machines work? Do they rely on this "stable" protocol???

Imagine if you will that external communication to and from Second Life is like a train. Your data waits for the train. Sometimes its on time. Sometimes its late. Sometimes its very late. The train arrives and the whistle blows. Sometimes your data fell asleep waiting for the train and doesn't hear the whistle. If you're lucky your data gets on the train.

On the train with your data is a bunch of other transient data. Data you don't know. Data that looks dangerous but could very well be your next door neighbors data. Your data squishes into the last seat in the back of the last car at the back of the train. Sitting next to it is a much larger piece of data. So large it could have its own parcel. In fact it probably does.

Your data sits back and tries to relax given the circumstances but the smell on the train is overwhelming. Sometimes your data gets sick. Sometimes it gets so sick it pulls the emergancy break and demands to get off the next hop, which is never its destination. If your lucky though and you have strong data it holds its breath and the train makes its first stop at Agniville.

Agniville is a very crowded place overrun by far too many other transients moving about their business all day long. Your data sits tight, grabs nervously at the arm cushion of its chair and waits for the train to start moving again. This is where things go bad.

Sometimes random debris ends up on the tracks. This is a low budget train without any fancy cattle pushers or anything like that so it just chugs along and if it hits even a twig on the tracks it derails & topples over sixty eight times sending all five cars spiraling into seperate directions in a firey blaze full of epic movie like explosions that send the last car of the train into the air before it comes crashing down on a mine killing all the workers inside, a small nest of bats, and the coal mine's manager's daughter who goes into a violent vengance driven rage and grabs his shot gun headed towards the new twisted metal door of the car and starts shooting killing all the remaining living bits of data except yours, which it yanks out of the car by the collar, ties up, stuffs in a barrel, rolls down the hill into the river and lights on fire.

Thats the last you ever hear of your data. But sometimes, on a full moon, after a fresh rainfall with two parallel rainbows, and the birth of a unicorn your data will make it home, safe and sound.