Wednesday, 16 November 2011


Toby is this Thai wannabe-ladyboy dude, whose chief passion in life is cracking passwords.  He's young, immature, and a sad example for Thai manhood.

Toby sat around and got smart on computers, and eventually wanted to show the world that he had talent and "power".  So Toby got around to screwing with people....grandmas from London, bartenders from Brisbane, young teenage girls from Winslow, and lumbermen from Oregon.

Toby's chief reason of existence?  Just screwing with folks and utilizing the fundamental weaknesses of Blogger.Com and Yahoo email.  Yahoo....for those who aren't aware, has kinda drifted around for the past five years and done most of nothing in the arena of email security.  They have folks who actually engineer and draft up code, but frankly....they've become the General Motors of Internet productivity.  Toby knows that.

The Blogger folks built various levels of security into their system....but just never advertised what you really needed to set things for.  After running into a kind of figure out what levels of security in Blogger ought to be set-up.

Today, Toby is sitting around the hut that he calls a home in Thailand.....kinda peeved because he lost someone to play with.  He'll sit there for a while....and eventually go over to probably bartender at the beach resort where he earns enough to pay for the apartment and his scooter....not much else.  Toby is destined for something....where at age forty, the best that he can admit that he stole 8k passwords over his life.

A mighty accomplishment for a little Thai have to admit.  He'll stand around at age forty, and talk up his great accomplishments.....which most folks around Thailand won't really care much for or find interesting.  The sad thing is that Thai guys who grew up in the 1970s....actually worked for a living, and have a thousand other things that they can claim proudly.  Toby?  Well....there's not much that he can claim in that level.

So as night falls in can wonder about Toby and his losses for the day.  He's still saving cash for his fancy operation to become a half-woman, half-man, half-dimwit.....and he's thinking that things will eventually improve, but just doesn't know when.  It's a sad life, but he really can't expect much better.

A Similar Feeling

About every resident in southeast DC goes to sleep at night....worrying that some stray bullet is going to hit their house or residence.  Grandmas worry about kids.  Kids worry about their parents being accidentally shot by a stray bullet at night.  All it takes is one round to penetrate the house....and anything could happen.

Well....from what I reported a couple a days ago with the White House being fired at by some guy with a AK-47....the Secret Service finally confirmed this morning that one round did hit the White House.  Didn't enter the residence....but it definitely did hit.

So the President will return from his trip....get a ten-minute report on the episode, and start to get a bit irate. The President of the United States ought not to have to worry about some gang violence hitting the White House, or having one of his kids hit.  There's going to be a week or two of consideration, and my guess is that the Mayor of DC is going to be invited over to the White House.

It'll be a short thirty minute meeting.  The President will ask him what he needs to protect the city.  If I were the Mayor.....I'd ask for $2 billion.  Course, it'd be a nice round number and I wouldn't have the slightest idea of how to spend the money.  The Mayor would likely sit and consider how he could milk this for corruption amongst the city council and flip twenty million toward their pockets in some fashion.

A week later, there will be this big announcement of how DC police are going to be reinforced, and lots of technology being added.

And the guy who shot at the White House?  They still haven't found the guy.....they have a great picture of him and know his name.....but he's completely disappeared.  The gun?  Found in the car, on the bridge leading out of the city.  It's almost like a scripted sequence.  That's the sad thing about this whole episode.


It's been most of a full day in New York City, where they finally decreed that while protesting is a right....camping out as a Occupy guy, is not a right.

For a guy from Bama, it a bit of pondering here.  About ninety-nine percent of the time.....when you camp out....there's usually grass beneath you....a bunch of trees....some ants....a snake or two....and no noise from traffic or such (thunderstorms would be acceptable).  So in this case, it's hard to classify the Occupy camping as real camping.

You can imagine this scene.  A judge says camping is ok on the streets of New York.  So a bunch of guys from Bama show up and start camping.  They start up some sterno fires.  There's hot dogs roasting.  Some guys are discussing their NCAA fantasy bowl games.  One guy brought a satellite radio to listen to Rush Limbaugh at night.  Karl is discussing his septic tank issues.  Sid shows off his $189 sleeping bag that he bought via a Army surplus sale that is supposed to be Arctic-proof.  At the end, the guys break out a case of Pabst Blue-Ribbon, smoke some weed, and fall asleep.

The Occupy guys in New York?  The sterno fire is the only fire that they've ever messed with.  They camped out three times in their backyard as a kid, and that was mostly in the summer.  They brought along their I-Pad but it got broke the first day when their buddy dropped it on the concrete.  No one knows much about NCAA football, but every wants to chat about Marxism and this concept of taking money away from everybody else.  The beer?  Well....they buy mostly cheap Mexican whiskey and mix with Diet Coke.  The weed?  Well....there's weed but some of the new guys have been bringing these fancy drugs that no one has tried before, and some guys have freaked out....thinking they were Republicans or Beverley Hills real estate agents.

Camping and Occupy camping just aren't the same thing.  The mayor is right about this issue.  Either you camp out like a true American, or you don't camp out.  When some idiot camps out on concrete and showers at the YMCA eight blocks away....there's something wrong.  When the topic of discussion is politics....for weeks in a row while camping....there's something wrong.  When the highlight of the day is the fresh coffee from Starbucks....there's something wrong.  When the chief thrill of the day is to screw around with the cops that confront you....there's something wrong.

My fantasy end to Occupy?  Tell the Occupy guys they won an all-camping-expenses paid trip to a Montana National Forest.  Dump them off at the end of some dirt road forty miles from civilization.  No coffee.  Just some freeze-dried snacks.  Toss in a snake-bite kit, because they really might need it, and some pepper-spray for bears.  No cheap Mexican booze...and no Starbucks.  After four hours....I'm pretty sure most of the guys would be asking for a chance to leave.  They just aren't real campers.

Only in America.