No need to panic -- the cable's back on. The astute may have noticed beevomit.org instead of afraid.org in the location bar, and then the transition back. If not, no matter. One domain, many hosts. This is how the elite do it. Because my cable has returned, I can continue to host my domain, thanks to the good folks at comcast.net who for some reason don't block port 80.
By the way, I'm especially elite because I use gandi.net, a geek-approved registrar, so-approved because 1) the interface is hard to use, technical-looking, unadorned with design and unbesmirched by advertisements, 2) the registrant is the true owner of his or her domain, 2) gandi doesn't do anything besides register domains, and 3) they're rude french asses. Check out this line from a confirmation email:
With your password, you can change online any of these parameters (thus it is useless to ask Gandi support to do changes for you).
Isn't that great? I'm so happy I use them. I'm serious!
Don't know if anyone saw it, but there was a temporary blog about my cutting the cable (doh), posted on my server backup (beevomit.org). It told the sad tale. But anyway, that's about the size of it: I snipped the modem/television cable in half. It was getting dark, I was cutting foliage, I thought to myself "hmm, I'd better be careful I don't cut the cable, because I know it's around here somewhere," looked down, and saw a cut cable.
This turned out to be sort of a good thing, actually. First of all, it gave me a 3-day break from the internet (90% of computer use -- it's hard just to sit on a computer and vegetate when it's not connected) and the television, during which I got a huge amount of work done on the backyard; it looks spiffy now, with mulch and civilized-looking plants, and depleted of invasive bamboo.
Second of all, it gave me a chance to properly thread the cable through the fence, as it's supposed to be, instead of waving lazily among the underbrush, which was where it was. The comcast installers have a pretty good excuse for installing it wrongly, though: it was literally impossible to get back there, at least not without a lot of bloody scrapes and scratches. But, scapegoat regardless, because of where the cable was, I cut it; it looked a lot like a stem at 7:30pm (twilight, at this time of year). Comcast came over today and spliced the ends together for free, after kidding around with my mom a bit on the phone. When my mom called it in, the woman answering said "there's nothing that can be done" (my mom believed her).
This sounds very much like something I would have said, were I an operator at comcast. The woman assured my mom that she was only joking, but my mom was I think pretty freaked out, and I'm not sure she found it funny, exactly. But, she did appreciate the wit, after the fact.
My principal enemies in the backyard were threefold: 1) bamboo. 2) oak seedlings. 3) thorns.
The bamboo is what started it all, actually. I went after it with a hacksaw one afternoon, no goal in mind, and in a few minutes had cut a large chunk of it down with pretty minimal effort. Getting the shoots out of the air was relatively easy, even though cutting through the bottom of an old bamboo stalk is more or less like sawing through a nail. But, this is why I had a hacksaw. I'm lucky we happened to have one, actually, or else I'm not sure I'd have continued without that early boost of inspiration I got from watching towering stalks of invasive bamboo come sagging down to earth, twenty-five feet below.
Then I got insidious, with a brilliant plan that I think just might work. Supposedly, bamboo is this nightmare plant that's nearly impossible to kill, wrecks the foundation of your house, eats your daugter's barbie dolls, etc. But I noticed that when I cut the stalks down, I was left with a rock-hard tube poking out of the ground. It seemed to me that the hole in the tube was a good way to access the root-system directly. Bamboo is hollow so water and stuff can come up through the roots and feed the leaves sprouting from the stalk. So, if one were to pour stuff into that feeder-system, it might very well get distrubuted to the whole plant...
I poured about a half-gallon of grass-killer (bamboo is a grass) down the bamboo's throat, hoping to poison it from the inside out. I also splashed a liberal amount on the ground. So, we'll see what happens next spring. That'd be cool if I'd discovered a new technique of bamboo-destroying. Certainly it didn't help the beast along, which would otherwise have to slowly be killed off, over a span of about five years, by ruthelessly snipping the stalks as they sprout from the root system each spring, until eventually the plant-network doesn't have enough energy to send up more shoots (since it's not getting any replenishing sun). It's a slow expiration, sort of like the ultimate fate of the universe.
But I'm hoping my attempted murder will hasten things along. I don't want to toxify all of the soil, though; somewhat nearby there is some ivy that looks nice against the shed. Boy, I never thought I'd experiment with being one of those gardening-losers. Who would have thought?
Enemy #2: there's a huge oak tree (maybe 70 feet tall) close to the house, and it's been dropping seed-pods into my backyard for about 10 years, unchecked. The result is not only a few green oak saplings, but a few genuine oak young adults -- just as hard (or very nearly so), but being only about three inches thick. They were slow and difficult to cut down with an electric chainsaw. The chainsaw, by the way, wasn't able to cut through the fatter bamboo shoots, whereas the hacksaw had trouble with the oak seedlings. The right tool for the right job, as they say.
Enemy #3: the thorns were only in one place, as opposed to the oak and bamboo (which were everywhere), but were pretty monstrous nonetheless. They had tangled themselves over some other trees (i don't know what kind), and had killed a lot of lower branches by blocking out their sun with its own leaves. The bases of these thorny beasts (there were only three or so) were scary. Three quarters of an inch thick, with spikes just as long sticking out every few inches along. The stalks and spikes got narrower as the plant crept out, choking itself around branches of desirable plant-life, and the entire structure was pretty massive. It was hard to dig out, too, because thorns are incredibly sticky; I'm sure the woods-strolling reader is familiar with this behavior. But once the thorns were was out, the stalks and stems of course all stuck together, so it was relatively easy to cart a big, green, spiny tumbleweed off into the woods.
I periodically dragged into some nearby woodlands all of the other bits of vegetation I'd harvest over the next four days. I guess I made about seven trips (?) in all. The existence of this woods-like land is extremely convenient; along with the available hacksaw, it probably did more to facilitate and inspire this whole process than anything else. I might have followed the prescribed course, and bundled everything up, tied it with twine, and waited till the first Thursday of the month (i think), when someone (rodney) comes through and takes all of your unwanted crap to the dump for you. Actually, I believe it's the county government.
Waiting two weeks would have been hard -- I would literaly have had no place to store all of the detritus until pickup day. So, I was grateful for the nearby woods. It's not actually "the woods" -- this is the genius of it. What "it" is, is a strip of untended, overgrown, woods-y land (tall trees, thick underbrush), about thirty feet wide at the most, that falls between my townhouse development and the residential street immediately to the west.
But it's still thick enough and wild enough (it's never been touched, I don't think) to hide absolutely massive amounts of lawn-refuse. No-one could possibly object -- I made sure my deposits were far enough in so as to be invisible, and the woods aren't accessable (thorns, tangled thickets, poison ivy, etc). If the wooded land ever does get developed (i don't think the parties on either side would allow it), the developers will clear out my crap along with the rest of the crap.
If about 2,000 people had the same idea, then I guess the tangle of dead foliage would get so high that it would be impossible to stack more on top of it. But I'm still not sure if it would be noticable at that point -- this little strip is totally chocked with woodsy-plant-matter. Living plant-matter, that is. Although I have to mention that I think some other residents had the same idea I had. I can't imagine otherwise, and I thought I might have seen some evidence.
I'd photo-document, but that'd just be gay. Plus, I'd get all sorts of comments about the damned american and his wasteful garden/property/water-squandering/etc. I've been thinking those thoughts to myself for the past few days, especially when I was blasting the moss from the brick patio with a hose for about twenty minutes. Plus, my digital camera's batteries have run out, as I just discovered. So, maybe another day.
I feel that by gardening, weeding, watering, mulching, sawing, etc, I've reached some point-of-no-return past the gateway to civilization.
Here's a BART safety poster:
I'm going to talk about operating systems. I apologize. Here they are, equated with cars.
Mac OS 09: Pinto. Seems like a pretty good car, but sometimes when you put it in reverse and put the pedal down it catches on fire and burns down your garage and dog.
*NIX: 70s Datsun. Tiny, efficient, and still running smooth -- is gong to go forever at this point. Its beauty is in its functionality. Its maintenance record is very good; there are a few people driving around old Datsuns from the Stone Age. Some think it to be overtly ugly, though, and girls laugh at it. It can be expensive to fix because its so old -- especially body-work.
Mac OS X: Secret Imaginary Car X. Impeccable maintenance record, any model on the road now will still be running in 2145, fast, agile, beautifully designed, fuel-efficient, high re-ssale-value, it flies, radar-proof, built in laser cannon, teleportation, time-travel, subspace radio, extra-wide cup holders. Not free, however.
Windows 95/98/ME: 1987 Chrysler LeBaron. Rust-spots, tacky plastic rims, huge, heavy doors. It tends to breaks down in the middle of the highway, and its driver-seat tends to unexpectedly collapse flat against the rear-seat. I've owned both said car and said operating system.
Windows NT/2000/XP: BMW. Looks nice and runs well, for the most part, but if you look under the hood it's a nightmare/mess. Getting parts is hellish, and expensive -- when it does break down, watch out.
VMS: An ASPLUNDH endloader. Not really good for anything except lifting extremely heavy stuff, but never, ever, ever, ever breaks down. If it ever does, by some dimensional spacetime anomaly, death ensues.
AmigaOS: yellow Austin MiniCooper. Not very fast, can't do much, no parts, sort of a novelty, but performs suprisingley well, and is very cute.
I definitely prefer Mac OS (either 9.x or X, but more so X) to Windows (including XP/2000/NT, but more so ME/95/98), even if OS 9 can't multitask very well, and tends to freeze if you leave it alone for a while. At least my copy does; not "my copy" as in the version number (9.2.3), but my particular system and program files with all of the associated subtle system changes that went along with them.
Or maybe Mac doesn't really do this (subtle changes) -- it's not supposed to keep anything from the user (even though it has loads of hidden files, many more than Windows), and things are less "scattered." For instance, Mac software (there are pretty strict interface and development standards) doesn't scatter bits of a program about (.DAT files, .dll files, etc); if there's a file called "Photoshop," then that icon IS an abstraction for all (all you need worry about?) bits of the installed softare. This is why Macs don't have uninstallers.
However, some programs add "extensions," which are OS plug-ins that load on boot. And some programs add files to the system folder (equivalent to C;\WINDOWS and it's numerous subdirectories, of which the Mac system folder has non or very few), which I don't believe they're supposed to do. As an example of poorly-written Mac software that fucks up the OS, take the "drivers" for the Astra scanner. They don't know how to handle the USB connection properly, and so the Mac can't go into hibernation -- it flashes back into alertness immediately after you press the "sleep" button. There are a few crappy programs (most often share/freeware, I'd imagine) like this, and I may have a few of them, thus the frequent freezing.
XP has been crashing explorer.exe a bit more, and I don't like that it has so many facets and tangles of wires under the hood, so to speak. But I guess ultimately the question is third-pary software -- productivity. Unless the OS hinders this, then it's not really an issue. Sure, fine line, blah blah. But OS is a hell of a lot less important than people often consider it to be; it ends up being an aesthetic issue, along with just about everything else in life.
In related news, I made some changes to my Windows registry, WITHOUT MAKING A BACKUP (idiot, yet again), which have broken XP a bit (certain downloaded programs wont't install). If absolutely necessary, I'll re-install Winders, but that'd be a huge, huge pain in the ass. But what else have I got to do? Unfortunately, this box0r's E: drive is broken, so I'd first have to purchase a new one in order to preserve files before re-installation. If worse comes to absolute worst, I'll buy a new version of XP, a ~*~*~LEGAL~*~*~ version. Perhaps that'd be just desserts for pirating XP to begin with. Doh doh doh doh. Or, I could just get another pirate version. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH.
It's not a big deal though, at least yet, I don't think. Everything still works ok, and everything is backed up (files and other pirated sotware installers, haha. Tweaking Windows is very involved and time-consuming (not to mention dangerous); it can really keep one busy. Actually, I'm sort of getting to like the rush of adrenaline and cold sweat that goes along with making an irreversible change that fucks everything up. Also, it's good for my brain to sit there and figure out how to fix it. Heehee.
Probably not a good practice -- basically, I'm just too lazy and overconfident to make any backups, even though time and time again it's been demonstrated to be a very good idea to do so. I shouldn't be allowed near computers. At "The Art Store," simply by using the cash register software, I managed to crash it and/or freeze it a few times, and hack into some manager function (I have no idea how I got in).
There's just something about the way I use computers (reckless fiddling, probably) that either destroys them or does odd things that wind up being beneficial (to someone). Still, I need to stay away from the things, or at least the OS; this includes installing weird software, through which I've come down with at least one virus. I'm pretty sure it's gone, though; Avast is a good virus program, or so I hear. A bunch of Czechs run Alwill, who put out Avast.
I'm just waiting for my monitor to explode. Only a matter of time. I hope my mom doesn't read this. If she does, then don't worry -- if there's a problem, I WILL eventually fix it, as always. There has NEVER been a computer problem that I haven't solved, eventually, through some means (this includes buying a new computer). But really, don't worry -- I swear it'll be fine. Really. Please don't freak out. You probably don't read this anyway, but I never know.
Several people have told me they read me blahg, or mentioned things they could have only iknown by reading. In most cases, I have no clue they were reading. I have NEVER distributed a link to my blog, which might actually have the effect of causing more people to read it. People have an adversarial tendency not to look at things if you shove them in their faces. However, if they "discover" a thing themselves, especially if it contains what they think is private information, then they'll flock. Predicatable behavior -- maybe I engineered it all, and maybe I didn't. Bear in mind that I'm not all that smart.
Deleting registry keys without backing it up was dumber than the dumbest computer-act -- it's on par with shoving a ham sandwich into the CDR drive. Maybe that's how mine broke.
Oh dear god, I'm going to hell. When logged on to OkCupid.com as InsipidKitten, I got three instant messages, and carried on a conversation with three male hopefuls. It's provided me with some insight into the nature of the mating game.
For one thing, it gives me some insight on just how INCREDIBLY EASY it is, socially, to be a pretty girl. You don't have to put ANY effort into it at all -- you don't have to be funny, smart, engaging, etc. Guys will continue with the barrage of words regardless, grinning like little hoping monkeys (I'd imagine). And, it's also annoying, because you know they're talking to you because you're pretty -- it's not conversation initiated for the purpose of information interchange, but rather conversation intended to get sex. I just can't stand the leers -- that's what gets me. I've seen the leers guys put on their faces when they woo women, and it's disgusting. I can imagine these three I talked to on OkCupid with the same expressions.
In a way, it's very, very difficult to be a pretty girl, because everyone who initiates contact with you is suspect, and you have to settle for a shallow level of interaction, and come to expect it. Eventually, you get so jaded that you become unbable to interact with people normally. And people are so eager to give you what you want, that you lose any traits that would have helped you in the past; you become vapid, jaded, and incredibly lonely. In a way, it's really hard for pretty girls. And they don't deserve it -- they were born with sexually pleasing facial configurations. And, as a result, they get treated differently by society. So many men woo them that seperating the wheat from the chaff becomes incredibly burdensome, and, as I said, they might just settle for a shallow relationship with everyone, because it's so much effort to sort through them all. Many shallow relationships, and very few or no deep ones. That's the lot of the pretty girl.
I don't think I'm going to exchange anymore instant messages on okcupid -- it creeps me out. Another thing I noticed about men who woo is that they all try to impress with their sense of humor. They shoot one quip after another after another to the point where interaction just isn't possible. There's no way to respond to "Clever comment," except "haha." And "haha" gets old pretty quickly. Advice to guys: actual, interactive, intelligent conversation. The occasional witty remark intertwined with subject matter is good, charmning, etc, but this flood of one-liners just makes the recipient uncomfortable, because she has no idea how to respond.
Once again, I'm a girl named Chrissy. It was only a matter of time...
In a few days, I'll be able to give the definitive advice for wooing a pretty girl. Stay tuned!
I'm the wickedest man alive. I was on this dating service site, just for fun, because it's sort of interesting and doesn't necessarily involve mate-hunting (but instead pestering people in a friendly way and taking quizes). But, I got bored with it, and decided to revive chrissy parker for the occasion.
I've gotten two emails in the past hour. It's really shameful what base and ape-like creatures humans are. I can 100% guarantee that if chrissy were ugy, she would get NO letters whatsoever. I think I'll try that, actually -- I'll keep chrissy's profile, but change out her photos. If there are any ugly girls in my audience who would like to volunteer their pictures for the experiment, feel free to contact me. HAHA.
The experiment isn't really an experiment, per se, because it's like doing an experiment to see if the sun will rise the next morning. Obvioously looks are the ONLY deciding factor in mate-selection for men. People say that for women, attraction is subtle and intricate, but it's really not. Basically, women look for overt power-indicators (fit, friendly, dominant, rich, etc), which are of course disparate. This disparatity fools many into thinking women's mate-selection algorithms are complex. Not so -- they're still after one thing, just like men. Furthermore, men being obsessed with looks can be broken down (face, smile, boobs, hips, ass, slenderness, etc), just like a woman's obsession with power can be broken down (exemplified above).
And, of course, looks in a woman and power in a man equate with (you guessed it) REPRODUCTIVE FITNESS. Ie, is this mate fertile and capable of caring for offspring, thereby generating more viable humans to teem all over and poison the planet.
Remember (I can't stress this enough): we reproduce. It's WHAT we do. It's ALL we do.
Anyway, here's my actual profile. It used to be actually serious, sort of, but it got progressively snider and more cynical as I realized more and more that okcupid is dumb, and finally degenerated into this ultimate form of snide-ness you see before you.
I realized, as I was driving one mile to the grocery store, which was open late even though no one was in it, with my lights on and my radio on loud, to get a pint of ice cream, kept frozen in a powered freezer...i realized what a collosal waste of energy it all was. Fossil fuels and body energy-storage, mostly...I dunno, maybe Giant Food is powered with its own nuclear reactor. I sort of doubt it, though.
Anyway, the main thing is that overeating is a huge waste of energy, air-conditioning and driving .002 miles notwithstanding. We eat thousands, millions of calories a day that are all in excess of what's needed to power our bodies. So, we need fields of sugarcane and feedlots full of cows. And, to feed these cows, we need huge amounts of grain. Blah blah. I'm not real sure what I'm talking about when I get into resource allocation and the economic effects of wasting resources, imports, exports, etc.
But I do know that we (people of the world) waste a lot of energy overeating. It's strange to me when people are hesitant to waste food by throwing away a quarter cup of rice, but don't hesitate to pack on a pound of fat. Both are gratuitous wastes of energy.
Obesity is an economic issue! I'm not 100% sure how resource-consumption fits into the world economy and uneven wealth-distribution, but it does. I'll figure it out later.
The ice cream was good. Now I'm rather hot, because those extra carbohydrates are burning up and frying me. See? Wasted energy. Now, I'm going to crank on the air conditioner to cool me down. Shameful, shameful. And there are children in africa, etc etc.
WHO CARES.
Don't you hate those people who are incapable of listening? Who, when they aren't talking about themselves, are lecturing you? Who, if you say anything about yourself, meet you with silence or a shrug, then turn it into a discussion of themselves again? They just assume you're fascinated with them, that their asinine little stories and problems are all-important and fascinating?Yeah, I hate bloggers too. Haha, bet you didn't think I saw the irony there, did you? However (key difference here): there isn't any pretense of interaction with a blog -- it's just someone writing stuff down. If you wanna read it, then cool; I'm flattered. I don't quite know WHY anyone would want to read it, but apparently they do, so more power to them.
But, this isn't an interactive forum. This is me whining, as is the default with any blog. It's an altar to me. Totally stupid and depressing, which is why so many people think blogs are inane and retarded. Well, one of the reasons. Another is that they clog up the web with information-poor text, increasing the signal/noise ratio.
Yeah, that sucks. But who cares? My point (some sentences back) is that interacting with "ME ME ME" types is shitty and painful, and that one might be inclined to say "but the nature of a blog is ME ME ME", and while I'm in turn inclined to agree with that person, I maintain that there's a fundamental difference between a blog and maintaining an interactive dialog.
I've heard that men are more inclined to be totally self-absorbed in a conversation, and I've also heard that women are more this way. It's funny, because the people I've talked to have been quick to assign this behavior to a particular gender, and not to "some people." of course, im my experience, all of the offenders have been women.
It's possible that men do it to me too, but for some reason I don't find that as offensive and/or notable. I dunno.
I'm going to have to start more closely analyzing the speech of others. Actually, I'm pretty sure that I have this tendency (self-centeredness, talking about myself, etc).
BLAH BLAH BLAH holy crap I'm not even going to go over this once this entry is going to be really awful from now on I'm not going to use any punctuation and it's going to be really difficult to read I know several people who actually write like this it's sort of funny I'm not sure if they're aware of it or what maybe they just don't have an ear for writing the sounds in their heads don't correspond to those implied by sentences on a paper or something like that geez I dunno I'm not a linguist leave me alone
I have an idea: I'll start doing a SECRET BLOG, one in which I can write any way I want to. For some reason, I still have this need to put it on the web, even if no-one has the URL, and Google has no idea that it's there.
That reminds me: people have mistakenly babbled at me before that Google can find any page, linked or not, and it really irked me, so I'm afraid I'm going to have to out with it here: THERE ISN'T A WAY FOR Google TO FIND A PAGE IF IT'S JUST SITTING IN A DIRECTORY, UNLINKED. I've talked to a few people who gave me some nonsense about why this wasn't the case. I really, really don't understand what their thinking might have been.
Here is the i-ching: it's impossible to see the content of a directory on a web server if there is an "index.html" (or .htm) in that directory. This impossibilty, of course, extends to Google's crawler-bots, which are not magical/omniscient.
I'm not sure I can explain any better, because it's so painfully obvious. Google puts pages into its index with its bots, or spiders, or crawlers, which are autonomous electronic beasties that jump around the web from URL to URL, adding HTML pages to Google's index. If a page is just stuck on the server, let's say 21043wiejt.html, AND THERE AREN'T ANY LINKS TO IT, either on the site in question or elsewhere on the web, then the bot won't find it, because it has no access to it. There's no way to list the files in a directory as long as there's an index.html sitting in it (unless, of course, the files are listed ON THE INDEX ITSELF). The only file Google-bots look for by default is robots.txt. YOU'RE AN IDIOT. If a file isn't linked, there's no way for ANYONE to find it (aside from filename-guessing), including Google bots.
That said, there are a couple of possible ways Google could grab a page via means other than its crawler bots. One is through its own email service, although I don't know if Google does this or not. Probably not -- it would be pretty weird and slightly shady. If, for instance, a page is linked in an email that ends up in a Gmail account inbox, Google could conceivably know about it (since its bots crawl email in Gmail inboxes so as to display "appropriate" ads to the account-holder). Another way is Google's "Submit URL" page. If someone submitted a page there (of course they'd have to know it was there to begin with, duh), it'll eventually, after about 200 years, appear in Google's index, whether its linked to or not. Another possibility is through Google's toolbar, or through Google ads on the page. Or Google crawling someone's local browser cache via Google desktop search. But I'm not sure about these -- it would again be pretty shady. Google chat? Same deal -- possible, but maybe not likely.
But if Google's peering software (Gmail, g-toolbar, adwords, url-submit, Google chat indexing your logs, Google desktop search indexing your cache) is kept totally out of the picture, there's no way for Google's crawler to find a page. And, it's not certain (even extremely unlikeley) that Google indexes these things even when it has the ability to do so (grabbing a link to a secret page from an email sent to or from a Gmail account). But most people don't use these bits of Google software and Google services, so its reduced from a itty bitty caveat to a non-caveat.
Let's do a hypothetical example: Joe creates a page named "u569.html" in his /html directory on some server. Joe has an "index.html" in that directory, which amounts to a page that says "Hello" in purple on a yellow background (maybe in Verdana, maybe 126px tall). Joe tells a friend about the page via an email sent from his university account to the friend's workplace account, and the friend visits the page with his browser. The friend doesn't have Google Desktop Search installed. Neither of them go to and use the "Submit your URL to Google" page.
THERE...IS...NO...WAY...JOE'S...PAGE...IS...GOING...TO...BE...IN...GOOGLE'S (or any other search engine's)...INDEX.
Google crawlers don't sit there trying out infinite combinations and lengths of letter strings until they find every page in your directory, linked or not. If a page isn't linked to, it doesn't exist to the outside world.
When one vists that page with a browser (like IE), it's preserved in the browser cache, which Google bots (obviously) have no way of crawling -- it doesn't attack your hard drive (unless you have "Google desktop!" All fear Google -- it's their goal to know EVERYTHING; they're the "Doktor Faustus" of the internet).
Sorry I'm being so obvious here, but I simply can't believe that some people think Google is magically able to find things its not told about. It makes me want to bang my head against a wall. What was especially annoying was that one of these people, when I told them that this was impossible, launched into a condescending lecture on How The Web Works.
But thinking about Google's other software (chat, toolbar, email, etc) that all involves a search index makes me a little bit hesitant to use Google's products. Of course, maybe Yahoo sends its crawlers across yahoo mail accounts, and MSN sends its crawlers across MSN mail accounts. But this is totally theoretical, and probably doesn't happen. But, for the sake of argument, it has to be considered.
The example I have above with the university account and the work account is still a good one. If that scenario were played out, the page in discussion is going to stay private. Ok, I'm done. I'm sure all of that could be condensed.
I hate it when people are wrong and are insistent about their assertion, because it makes me question my own sanity. It's sort of like this fiasco on SDF, where "people" accused me of being the person lurking behind the username "logo." I kept on denying it (rightfully), over and over, but no-one was convinced; people still, to this day, think I was/am "logo." Ok, fine. I'm logo. Everyone is so convinced of it that it must be true! I started to believe, in some odd way, that I really was logo. It's sort of like these innocent suspects who are made to believe they commited a crime by police interrogation techniques.
From now on, I am Logo. I must be. It's obvious.
Oh, by the way: in an experiment, I got my Mac upstairs hooked up to this cable modem (the one connected to this computer right here right now), and running on the internet. I think my old G3, 350mHz, "Bondi" (how gay) iMac, with a 6-gig hard drive, was one of the first computers with an ethernet port. It even has USB! It even has a CRD drive, now, because I had to buy it seperately, since they were only first coming out when I got the computer, and I said "nah, I don't need a CDR." Idiot. Cardinal Rule: always buy the most features you can on your computer, because it will go obsolete less horrifyingly quickly.
I can't think what else my iMac doesn't have, except for a stable OS; OS 9 has terrible problems with freezing up and crashing. OS 9.x (I have the very last upgrade before 9 was discontinued: 9.2.3) really susceptible to software conflicts, and the more crap one has installed, the more likely it is to do something awful. I got in the habit of saving literally every 30 seconds back when I was in the biz. That little iMac carried me through two years of a computer-art major. Shit, I even bought sofware for it! I BOUGHT software. That means that I OWN Photoshop, and Dreamweaver, and Flash. OWN THEM. I know almost no-one who owns programs anymore -- they're all pirated.
Everything on this computer, the PC, is, including the operating system. Well, except for the free software, of course.
The problem is, they don't make anymore Mac OS 9 software; it's been totally phased out by Apple, understandably so, since OS 9 sort of sucks. OS X will run OS 9 software with a built-in emulator, so it makes me consider installing OS X on my upstairs machine.
I think I might be able to run OS X, actually, even though that Mac is so small (specs-wise, even though it DOES have .5 gigs of RAM, as much as any decent machine now-a-days). And I have some ancient OS X install CDs, too. I could then upgrade to "Tiger". Problem is, why? Why God, Why? All of the programs I need and use are on OS 9. I'm not sure why I'd "upgrade," except to make the system a little more stable. And that hasn't been a problem in ages.
Maybe there are some cool free things I can download for OS X that would make installing it worth it. Let me look it up. I can't find any. I guess I'd get i-Chat and Safari, which would be nice-ish, but oh well. I don't need to talk to the three or so people who are on chat networks other than AIM 100% of the time. No offense.
Shit, Google has added a new feature to Gmail -- the ability to forge email addresses in the To: field of the header. Is this supposed to be a good, desirable thing? I think it's only a matter of time before Google gets sued. If employee1@company.com sends an email to employee2@company.com under the forged address of boss@company.com, telling the first employee to do some odd thing (let's say the employees are investment bankers, and the fake order is to buy some stock on a tip, when in fact the tip indicated "sell", and then $1M is lost) then some real trouble could ensue. This is serious business, this forging of emails. I have no idea why Google allows it. Stupid, stupid. Risk management, wake up. What were your lawyers doing when you came up with this BS? Jerking off in the mens' room?
At this point, I have no choice but to check the full header of every email I receive, especially those from Gmail accounts, of which I don't get any. So really, who cares? I don't have to worry. But, maybe it's only a matter of time before Yahoo, Hotmail and God-knows-who-else start implementing the practice, monkeying Gmail, as they're wont to do. What then? It's header-checking time for you!
Just take a look at the Return-Path: field and see if it (more or less) matches the To: field. I have no idea why Google decided to make forging To: fields possible -- it was an incredibly stupid move. I seriously bet it's only a matter of time before they get sued.
Google has been slipping down the tubes, I think; it's releasing a whole ton of weird products that don't have much to do with search. Right there in its credo, Google says that they want to "do one thing really well" (i guess this is "search"). I dunno. You could probably argue that things like their instant messenging client (!) can search its own logs, or whatever it can do. I downloaded it once before realizing it was totally stupid and useless. And, of course, as I mentioned a few paragraphs above, the indexing of every document under creation isn't necessarily a good thing for the end-user.
Also pretty stupid and useless is their desktop search tool, and even their maps tool. I prefer Mapquest to that, if only for the fact that it gives mileages. And, the fields you enter text into inspire more confidence than a haphazzard line full of garbaget that you have to enter to get an address with Google Maps. And, mapquest has some map details (cities, streets) that Google maps leaves out.
So, it seems Google is branching out over-zealously, a la Microsoft, and it doesn't really have the resources to pull this off, as Microsoft does. Another thing is Google strives not to "be evil" (supposedly -- I think so, still at this point, maybe). There's really no way to take over many different markets in which you don't really belong, technologically and development-wise, without being a real capitalistic bastard, immitating innovators and then buying them out, etc. I'm not sure Google can/will do this.
Whatever. Stupid stupid. Oh, by the way: I was taken off the IBM project -- I no longer work there. Let's see how many people admit to reading my blog, as they tend not to do, or at least do with some visible hesitation/discomfort, and say something like "I hear you're not working at IBM anymore." Really? Where did you hear this? Cretins.
Anyway, yeah. No more IBM. I was replaced. Wut-eva; ah do wut ah want (South Park). I have to give some serious thought (why?) about what I'm going to do next. But really, why do I care? I don't have any babies to raise, or anything like that -- just some debt to Sallie Mae.
I'm in one of those "everyone can go fuck his or herself" moods. I have to keep reminding myself that I don't owe anybody anything (in a deep sense).
Hmm. Back to the days of saying "fuck you" to my readers, constantly? Maybe. Because I really do hate you all JUST KIDDING!
I realize that I really might be a genuine asshole.
FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL FUCK YOU ALL
You see what happens when I dont blog for a while? It gets ugly.