In case you're wondering, I'm in Jackson.
UPDATE: Wow. This place looks like a war zone, but thankfully everyone of my friends and family are ok. I'll post more when I get a chance. I have some things to share, but it'll have to wait.
UPDATE...Latest satellite picture. We're getting lots of wind now. Forecasters are calling for gusts in the 70-80 mph range, which is enough to knock over trees and cause roof damage. My company is closing at noon and then I'm headed home. I have batteries, canned food, candles, two flashlights, water, and a full tank of gas. Oh, and two fifths of Crown Royal and one fifth of Kettle One vodka.
Keep your fingers crossed, this could be ugly. And say a quick prayer for folks on the Gulf Coast and in Louisiana. They're getting hammered.
1. If you have a three-legged cat, what would you name it?
2. I can't paint worth shit. Using my fingers or a brush looks exactly the same.
3. A friend wants to start a blog and asked me for suggestions. Which site(s) would you recommend to a beginner? Not sure if I could host it off of mine here, but if that's possible, someone let me know.
4. Suggestions are being taken on how to keep a dog from crapping in my yard. I've thought of beating the shit out of it's owners, but they're old and beating up old people isn't fun. Non-lethal suggestions are appreciated.
5. Annual fishing trip is scheduled for September 1st and 2nd. Taking both days off, along with Labor Day gives me 5 days off! Wahoo! Plus, I have to take an additional 8 days before Thanksgiving so I don't lose them. After that, I'll only have 4 weeks of vacation time left. HAHAHAHA!
6. Um...I can't think of a number 6. If you do, let me know.
I used to kid people that I was a metrosexual, until I read the definition at Urbandictionary.com. Let me say this emphatically, I am not metro. I, uh, just have this 'thing'...
Can I help it if I, uh, have an innate ability to know that a certain color of paint will clash with my brushed nickel faucets. Or, um, that a certain color will not work with a chocolate-brown fabric headboard. Is it my fault that I can rearrange the furniture in my office and come up with a reading area...that would be perfect with a leather club chair, ottoman, and swing-arm lamp? Hell, can't everybody look at track lighting and know that the lamps should have an amber shade instead of blue? I mean, come on people, it's not rocket science.
You know what? It's a gift and who am I to hide those gifts under a bushel? I would be mocking the gods if I didn't use it. And we all know that I am not a mocker...or a metro.
Can someone tell me why I’m paying $2.36 a gallon for gas? No, really, I have no idea. There're no hurricanes in the Gulf or Atlantic, there’s no oil refinery fires, there’s not actual shortage that I’m aware of so I’m curious, Dear Reader, as to why gas keeps going up.
The reason I think it’s going up is because there’s a possibility of these things happening so the oil companies are raising prices just in case. And if that’s the case, then what the fuck? Why the hell am I paying now for something that may or may not occur in the future? This is not insurance, this is gas. If I’m completely wrong, then please excuse my ignorance. It’s never occurred to me since gas has always been cheap, relatively speaking. Has the Bush Administration decided to do anything to lower prices or are the oil/gas lobbyists doing a fine job of keeping everyone focused on something else like health care or Social Security?
Speaking of which, is anyone doing anything about either of them? Does anyone care that older folks have to decide whether to buy groceries or medicine? And who in the hell ever heard of taking 17 different prescriptions? That’s what the ex-mother-in-law takes. 17. Any idea how freaking expensive that is? Any idea if anyone is going to do anything besides pay lip service to “The American People” about it? And Social Security? C’mon folks, either decide to save it or do something else. It’s why we elected you. We didn’t elect you to give X million to your state for beaver trapping studies or in my state, $200,000 to construct a bicycle path in Petal, Mississippi (thanks, Trent, much appreciated there, buddy). We put you there to solve the problems, not create more.
I think bringing democracy to other nations is great, but hey, how about focusing a bit more on your own backyard. I’ve recently begun reading the paper again and quickly realized why I stopped in the first place. There are some seriously whacked out, fucked up people in this world. Every day I read about kids killing kids, kids killing adults, adults killing kids, adults killing adults, and I just can’t seem to comprehend all of this stuff. How did we end up here? And please, don’t tell me it’s video games…if I ever heard a bigger bunch of crap in my life, it’s that video games cause kids to kill one another. That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard and I don’t care what kind of research you pull out of your ass to show me, I still won’t believe it.
I don’t normally rant about this stuff, but hell, it’s never bothered me before. I guess the closer I get to, gasp, 40, the more the world makes less sense to me. And if you tell me I’m getting like my parents, I’m going to drive to your house and stick a video game up your ass…a non-violent one, of course.
PS – Please don’t tell me the Dems can or will do a better job than the Republicans. I doubt either group really gives a crap about John Q Public because, if they did, this crap would have been resolved a long time ago.
PPS – This is my OPINION…if you don’t like it, that’s fine. Feel free to leave a rebuttal.
This was inspired by true events. The names have been changed to protect my job.
The day started out like every other day. Hot, humid, and full of hackers. I hate hackers. Hackers are the lowest form of life. They’re so low they could crawl under an ant’s belly without bending over.
I was at my desk in the lab, the CAH lab, the heart of all anti-hacking activity in the company, when she walked in. “Joe,” she said, because that’s my name, “we have a situation. The log files are filling up and it’s causing a lot of stuff to stay on the network. This is a bad one, Joe, and we need your help.” She was right; they did need my help. Why? Because I’m Joe Pericardia, Certified Security Expert. If they needed logs looked at, then they came to the right guy. I look at logs, it’s what I do.
The server room oozed efficiency, all cold steel and blinky lights. The air was chilly, as chilly as my wife’s stare when I ask for nookie. The blinky lights of the server farm were like stars in the heaven, and their morse-coded message was clear. “We need you, Joe. You’re our only hope.” Oh how right they were. I was here to do a job. I was here to find the hacking scum who had the audacity to fill up the log files. You don’t hack on my watch, Scum, because I’ll find you. I’ll hunt you down like the vermin you are and make you disappear like my hair from male pattern baldness. Why? Why will I hunt you down? Because I look at logs, it’s what I do.
I logged into the server, fingers flying over the keyboard, typing my super-secret password; L0gWatcH3R. The logs lay bare before me, awaiting my touch like a virgin on her wedding night. I scanned them quickly, getting their vibe, listening to them tell me their deepest, darkest secrets. My fingers caressed the keyboard, the soft clicks of the keys like her high heels walking away, my money safely tucked in her garterbelt and my gargantuan lust sated until payday rolled around again.
I delved deeper into the logs, their secrets revealing themselves to me. There. Wait. No. That’s me. Hmm. Could that? No. It was harder than I expected, the hacker more clever than I imagined. “This guy’s good,” I thought to myself, “but not as good as me.” She stuck her head in the door, “I just wanna wish you good luck, we’re all counting on you”. Her confidence inspired me, as did her tight sweater. “Don’t worry, babe, I’ll find these scum and when I do, they’ll wish they were never born.”
Sweat began to bead on my forehead despite the cool, crisp air of the 4-ton Leibert swirling around me. I began to doubt myself. Had I bitten off more than I could chew? Had I finally met my hacking match, my Moriarty, my Lex Luthor? “Knock it off, Joe,” I said to myself, cause that’s my name, “you’re the only one who can find these hacking scum and wipe them off the face of the earth. You're our only hope.” And I was right. I was the only hope they had. I was going to be the iceberg to his Titanic. Because I look at logs. It’s what I do.
I found it. It tried to hide from me like former girlfriends who couldn’t handle my passion. After hours of searching logs, I found it. It was right before my eyes and I’d missed it. I’d missed it because he is us and we are him. It took me a minute to process. “This can’t be right, Joe,” I said to myself, “he’s one of the good guys. One of the true blue. He is one of us.” Unfortunately, I knew it was true. I looked at the logs and the logs don’t lie. The hacking scum was an employee of the Bureau. I was about to take down one of my own. Harold Baggel…no, wait, Marty, it’s Marty Baggel. Damn those two for looking alike.
I printed the evidence, the printer chattering away like Kendall during a department-wide staff meeting. This was going to be a hard one. I’d never taken down a fellow employee and I didn’t know how to go about it. This had to be handled delicately so as not to spook the scum. And employee or not, he was still scum. Hacking scum. I was pondering what to do when she poked her head in, “I just wanna wish you good luck, we’re all counting on you”.
I put my plan into motion. If executed properly, the hacking scum would be in my grubby little hands by the end of the day. I crafted a carefully worded email so as not to alert him to knowledge lodged deeply in my brain.
Hey,
I am still getting those log messages about Marty's log in failures. Can we try and track down the problem this AM.
They wouldn’t suspect a thing. Hacking scum are stupid.
I waited on pins and needles, feeling like the guy whose condom broke while his girlfriend’s out peeing on a stick. It didn’t take long for them to take the bait.
What do you propose we look at?
David
Damn, not David too. Sweet, innocent, letter-writing David. Damn that hacking scum, Harold…uh, I mean, Marty! He must have used some Vulcan mind trick on David to get him to cooperate. Oh, the pain upon realizing that I’d be taking down two of my fellow co-workers. My gut was tied up in knots like Jack after too many Whataburgers. I had to proceed with caution. One hacking scum is easy to fool…two would be harder. I responded as eloquently as always, asserting my authority and knowledge of all-things hacking related.
I have no idea. But Marty said Harold was doing something yesterday with some proxy stuff maybe look at that, Or maybe a sniffer. It is filling up my log file with bad password or username messages. I get emails for every time it does it.
Take that hacking scum! I waited again, feeling like the guy whose condom broke while his wife is out peeing on a stick. I knew it wouldn’t take them long to respond, but waiting was hard. I thought of all the good times we had together. Me asserting my authority and knowledge of all things computer related and them laughing behind my back. Ahh, those were the days. My email hooted like an owl in the night.
Well, here is the deal, I don't know exactly what is doing it at this point but looking at what we saw yesterday, its hard to imagine its a threat. If we have something specific to look at, or an idea, that's fine, we can look into it, otherwise, my daily duties are going to have to get done this morning. Otherwise Ill gladly let you log onto the machine to look at it if you need to.
Thanks,
David
Nice try, hacking scum, but your pathetic attempt at logic won’t fool me. I invented the “tell me what I should do” move when you were still in diapers. I’ll take this to a higher authority. I’ll take this to the one person that I know can solve my problem. As I was getting up to leave, she stuck her head in the lab, “I just wanna wish you good luck, we’re all counting on you”.
I walked towards Conference Room A like a prize fighter walking into the ring. I wouldn’t be pushed around by hacking scum like them. The world is too good a place for the likes of hacking scum such as David and Harold…dammit!...I mean Marty. I crossed the lab floor, peering at the LAN guys through the glass like fish in a fishbowl. I marched into the room, evidence in hand, noticing the scared looks of the LAN guys around me. You better be scared, Gentlemen, hacking scum have invaded the office.
Handing the evidence to McDowell, I make my case. “Someone is hacking the network using Marty’s userid. It’s sending me emails. This has got to stop.”
“Um, Joe,” someone asks timidly, “what’s the problem?”
“The problem, Mister,” I say forcefully, “is that the hacking scum is attempting to infiltrate the network and it’s sending unnecessary stuff onto the network And it’s emailing me. A lot. Make it stop.”
“Well,” says McDowell, “how do you know this, Joe? How do you know that we’re being invaded by hacking scum who are sending unnecessary stuff on the network and emailing you too often? How, by god, do you know?”
“It’s my job, McDowell. It’s my job. I look at logs. It’s what I do”.
This may be gross...read at your own risk.
Dear Sir,
In the future, please refrain from hanging your nasty-assed, bacon-stripped, tighty whities within viewing distance of the gym showers. There is nothing more disgusting than walking out of the shower only to be confronted by the fact that you have yet to learn how to properly wipe your ass. If necessary, I can get you a tutoring session with my 5 yr old nephew who already does a better job wiping his ass than do you.
My god, man, have you no shame? Have you no dignity? Have you no Cottonelle Fresh Rollwipes? Clean. Your. Ass.
Respectfully,
Your Fellow Gym Patrons
I was completely finished moving before 12:30 pm on Saturday. I was completely unpacked (except for my 'office') by 10 that same night. When you don't have a lot of stuff, it's easy.
So far, I've spent about $230 between Home Depot and Lowe's. For the record, I don't like Loew's. Don't ask me to explain why cause I can't. I just like Home Depot better. And considering the money I've spent with them over the years, they like me too.
Saturday evening found me in the local Wal-Mart, which I will NEVER do again. I've never seen so many people in one freakin' Wal-Mart. I swear, the whole freakin' town was in there at once.
And can I ask a favor of you, Dear Reader? If you don't know how to use the self-checkout registers, then get the hell out of the way. How hard is it to scan an item, shove it in the sack, then swipe your card? Apparently it's much more difficult than I ever imagined.