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Pa1n No 07
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P A 1 N M A G A Z I N E V O L U M E N U M B E R S E V E N
____________------------------------------------------___________
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.$$$$ the world. Only our perception
.$$$$$. of it's boundaries." --aB
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.------------[ PA1N Magazine Staff ]--------------.
[-! !-]
[-| Editor in Cheif alienbinary |-]
- -- --- [---| Co-Editor Turnspike |---] --- -- -
- -- --- [---! Editor Nemisis !---] --- -- -
[---| Editor angel ice |---]
- -- -- [----| Editor Manuel O'Kelly |----] -- -- -
[--| American Asshole Rumbling Sky |--]
! Follow The... White Rabbit !
- -- ------- | Loki Editor Danger Girl | ------- -- -
| |
-+-----. .-----+-
| |
.------------------[ POKER TABLE OF DISCONTENT ]-------------------.
-- PA1Nv7x01 --- Letter from the Editor alienbinary ---
-- PA1Nv7x02 --- Letter from the Co-Editor Turnspike ---
-- PA1Nv7x03 --- Like Sardines alienbinary ---
-- PA1Nv7x04 --- Technological Slavery angel ice ---
-- PA1Nv7x05 --- Project Loki Archives Pt. Four alienbinary ---
---------------- Danger Girl ---
-- PA1Nv7x06 --- Ivory Towers Manuel O'Kelly ---
-- PA1Nv7x07 --- Cold Steel on a Hot Day
-- PA1Nv7x08 --- The Other Side of The PalmOS alienbinary ---
-- PA1Nv7x09 --- Why Hallmark Can Just Die alienbinary ---
-- PA1Nv7x10 --- The Academy Award DVD Bootleg scandal alienbinary ---
-- PA1Nv7x11 --- RantRadio IRC, January 2004 various ---
-- PA1Nv7x12 --- My Take on Tax Reforms alienbinary ---
-- PA1Nv7x13 --- What's the forecast for Neptune? alienbinary ---
-- PA1Nv7x14 --- Outro alienbinary ---
"PC Load Letter? What the fuck does that mean?"
-- Office Space
-----> Have PA1N of your own to share? By all means, contact us.
<-----
alienbinary Turnspike
Editor In Chief Co-Editor
pain@e-lite.org
Turnspike@spfd2600.org
- ----- ----> addicted to PA1N? Need a fix? <---- ----- -
The PA1N forums on SPFD2600.org
...and now, the seventh issue of a magazine that's more
fun than being sued by the RIAA for everything you own,
your favorite subversive propaghanda,
PA1N Magazine, Volume Seven...
-?------------?-----??----------??????????????????????-------------------?????-
PA1Nv7x01 ----------------------------------------------------------------[ 1 ]
[ Letter From the Editor ]
[ alienbinary ]
[ 1 ]-----------------------------------------------------------------PA1Nv7x01
-?------------?---????????????-----------????????--------??????????????????----
I always feel a little silly writing letters from the editor; I feel like
I'm talking to myself. Generally I write these when I have a little bit of time
off, and I can focus on something I'd like to do, instead of something I'm
forced to do. It's a cross between a preface and an introduction, mixed with a
blog site. I almost feel obligated to give everyone a run down of what I've
been doing with myself in the last month, or however much time has passed since
I put out the last issue. I don't feel like doing that this time, so I'm not
going to.
Several very disturbing things have happened in the last few weeks, and for
the first time in a long time, I have other things on my mind. I cannot
possibly undertake the task of fixing the world's problems that bother me most,
so I might as well just kick back and cool out, right? To be completely
truthful, I'm not so much as kicking back and relaxing as I am learning what my
priorities are. Did you know that there's a whole world out there? There are
things we can do alone that can affect positive change in our immediate spheres
of influence.
I think the best thing that people can do, and probably the hardest part in
the development of an activism-based mindset, is the research. You have to know
the world you're living in. As much as I can relay what I've learned, I'm just
one person, as each author in this magazine is one person. It's our personal
defeats and victories and our understanding of the world around us that can
allow us to be more than single, lone people. We can work together, but there
are a lot of things you need to consider first. The first thing to consider is
one of the most obvious, but nevertheless, it's important. Where do you come
from? I mean, where do you come from in the sense of your frame of reference.
Did you grow up in a poor neighborhood or a rich one? Some people have neither
answer, because they live abroad, or live nomadically. Where you come from
directly effects how you view the world.
When the television or the newspaper prints something about low income
housing, do you care? Are you affected by these rulings directly? Economics can
be one of the bigger gaps in any movement in history. When we recognize these
gaps, we can plug them, and start on a cleaner template. If you come from a
wealthy family, low income housing probably doesn't matter to you; whereas, if
you came from the slums, you would be very interested in the outcome of a
ruling regarding the structure and maintenence of the projects.
Things like these affect change in our attitudes. We can't control these
changes until we know they are there. The way to purge a single frame of
reference from your mind in favor of a multifaceted view of the world is to
observe the opposite of what you're used to. If you're reading this on a
computer in anywhere other than a public library, you probably aren't homeless.
That being said, you haven't a clue what it's like to live like that. I don't
claim to have an idea of what it's like to be homeless, but I continue to make
a sincere effort to learn. You learn by spending time with the disenfranchized.
Take one of them to lunch, do something genuinely kind, and then if you're
lucky, you can spend some time living with them. I spend hours every week with
a guy I know, just watching as he sells "Spare Change," the newspaper by and
for the homeless. He buys a stack of papers, and for every dollar he gets, it
only costs him a quarter. This means that he can work for a living, and can
earn some dignity. That's if people treated homeless people with dignity.
Watching the world through someone else's point of view is scary as hell.
It's nothing like what you're used to, and it's often upsetting. Things you
beleived about humanity may not be as true as you hoped, but sometimes you can
see something positive that can give you hope. I was with my friend, the man I
was writing about in the paragraph above, and he asked a guy on the bike if he
could spare a donation. The guy pulled out his billfold, and was surprised to
find that he only had twenty-dollar-bills; quite a few, also. Instead of saying
"sorry, can't help you buddy," he shrugged, laughed, and gave my friend one of
those crisp new twenties and said
"hey, today's your lucky day, I guess. Doesn't matter, you
need it more than I do. Have a good one."
With that, the man on the bike replaced his wallet in his pocket, minus
twenty bucks, and resumed his commute. I can't express how amazing it was to
see someone do something like that for a change. This person looked only a few
years older than me, and he was riding as a courier. I've seen fully decked,
tuxedo wearing guys who suddenly can't hear when a homeless person asks for a
nickel.
What I'm trying to communicate, is that we have the opportunity and the
ability to stretch beyond our known limits and to really make something happen.
All you need to do, is first open your eyes, and second, have the desire to
fight the good fight.
-- alienbinary, 2004
- --- ------ ----------------------------------------------------- ------ --- -
"And if you think that your peace of mind isn't worth that much, think about
how it would look if a piece of your mind ended up on the floor because some
agitated individual took a bat to you."
- Sunspot, Cult of the Dead Cow
- --- ------ ----------------------------------------------------- ------ --- -
-?------------?-----??----------??????????????????????-------------------?????-
PA1Nv7x02 ----------------------------------------------------------------[ 2 ]
[ Letter From the Co-Editor ]
[ Turnspike ]
[ 2 ]-----------------------------------------------------------------PA1Nv7x02
-?------------?---????????????-----------????????--------??????????????????----
THE VIEWS OF THE EDITOR-IN-CHIEF, ALIENBINARY, DO NOT NESSISARILY REFLECT THOSE
OF THE CO-EDITOR OR OTHER CONTRIBUTORS OF PA1N.
The preceeding statement holds true because I disagree with a number of
statements that Alienbinary has put forth during the run of this zine. He, in
turn, has the same disagreements with some of the statements that I and some of
the other contributors have written. Then why would the editor of this zine
allow writers with opposing viewpoints to be published in his zine? Well, it's
true that Alienbinary honors freedom of speech, but it isn't as though there is
a shortage of places on the net to express ideas, and it would be his right to
keep those ideas off the zine. The true answer lies in the concept of
tolerance.
Tolerance is a healthy respect for the expressions of others, even if they
differ from your own. Now, this concept may be something new to a few of you.
After all, we live in the time of partisan politics, agressive religious
fanatics, and other intense social stresses. However, if you are brave enough
to drop your own shield of bias that most people use to defend against invading
ideas, and open your mind to those ideas instead, you can expect one of these
two results:
1. You find those ideas more logical and acceptable then your own, and adopt
these stronger positions.
2. You find your own ideas more logical and acceptable than those new ideas,
and therefore your position is strengthened as a result.
Either way there is nothing harmful from an expression of new ideas, and
furthermore, this traffic of new ideas is paramount to solving all the little
problems of this world. And it is TOLERANCE that keeps the traffic from
becoming a train wreck, because without a little respect, a debate on ideas
becomes two people calling each other poo-poo heads, and all enlightenment
comes to an end.
It's obvious that AlienBinary gets this, and he makes it easy for me to
grasp
the concept of tolerance too. Although we don't see eye to eye, it's not a
matter of right and wrong, it's a matter of upbringing, perspective,
geographical differences, and life experience. And although his views are
different than mine, I know he is an intelligent guy who has valid reasons for
his beliefs, and he extends the same tolerance to myself and the other
contributors of PA1N. This has allowed for a broad spectrum of ideas in this
zine.
So in closing, I ask that if we can practice tolerance, why can't the
politicians amist their power struggles learn to practice it? Why can't the
religious fanatics quit beating you over the head with religion and practice
it? Why isn't tolerance taught early so that in this time of social stress we
can have that tool at our ready? Political Correctness has been shoved down our
throat to the point where we are GAGGING on it, but this overcompensation is
because too few practice tolerance in their daily lives. We need to spend less
time listening for what might offend us, and more time listening for what might
enrich us.
[ editor's note: no, there was no fight that precipitated
this piece. All is well, rest assured. We call this use of
language a parable. - alienbinary ]
-?------------?-----??----------??????????????????????-------------------?????-
PA1Nv7x03 ----------------------------------------------------------------[ 1 ]
[ Like Sardines ]
[ alienbinary ]
[ 1 ]-----------------------------------------------------------------PA1Nv7x03
-?------------?---????????????-----------????????--------??????????????????----
I'm writing this on a cramped up train car. Only one asscheek is on the
seat. I'm folded over Danger Girl, watching person after person prove that
although evolution is real-- we'd be flying all over the place if it weren't
for opposable thumbs-- it works too fucking slowly. This dumb motherfucker gets
on the running board of the train, you know, where the door opens and closes?
He had to know that there was no way to fit on the train comfortably. So what
does he do? He sizes up the passengers he'd have to press into, groin first. He
lets his dumb overly male brain take over temporarily, and for a split second
he's transparent. I realize then what he plans.
It should be noted the superior discipline required of me not to purge the
planet of people like him; you must understand that my hand was resting on the
hilt of the lone throwing spike I carry. Regardless, the son of a bitch grinds
his abdomin and thrusts back and forth into Danger Girl's backside. I gave him
a series of looks that would crush a less obtuse person into peices,
communicating the phrase "hey guy, that's my friend you're touching.."
Eventually, the train grinds to a halt in the middle of the coal and basalt
subway shaft. The engine stalled out.
I think the guy I was staring harshly at can read eye-transmitted warnings
of impending doom, because the train starts up again, and next stop, the guy
moves away, wriggling like a snake to the other side of the train, to an even
less comfortable one were his blood pressure can be cut off as he holds onto
something like a pipe for dear life.
After the incident with the non-alpha male, something occurs to me about
cellular phones: they're the most obnoxious devices when designed for yuppies.
I'm sure you're aware of the type of phone I'm describing. Now, some people
would disagree with me, but there's no reason you can convince me of that
requires an animated gif for a background on a mobile phone. Not only that, but
although everyone gets about 150 ringtones now, you ever noticed how only about
one or two are used universally, and in total, only 5 are actually used at all?
Now, I understand that it's not easy to make a choice of such amazingly high
importance, but it wasn't necessary for phone companies to then market
specifically to the people who couldn't handle the standard five, and put
entire concertos on the cell, just butchered up.
Some bright penny on the left side of me doesn't know how to use her yuppy
phone with too many features. Darwin, once again, has failed to take into
account the marvelous inventions that came about post-mortem. In a superior
form of evolution, people who pay too much money for a device because it has
extra features-- ones they don't actually understand how to use or even know
what they do-- these people would not survive. As evolution dictates, these
people would not make it past the first stages of life, therefore eliminating
the chance of procreation. Desperately unfortunate, then, I think it is, that
most people with really nifty phones have already spawned several hatchlings
that will haunt the earth's crust long after their well-earned demise. The
thing is, devices such as the ones described above can only be properly used by
deckers like myself, and possibly you, the readers of PA1N. I, however, don't
have the possible cash flow to even remotely afford something that eccentric.
As it is, I connected the audio out to the microphone input on my stereo,
because I couldn't afford computer speakers for my tower.
Regardless, this woman doesn't comprehend an even simpler concept of
physics regarding trains and RF Waves/Cellular waves. You know the structure of
the average urban subway car? You know how it's remarkably like sitting in a
tin can on it's side, only with seats? Well it is. The whole fucking thing is a
scrap head of metal, so it's NOT going to conduct RF waves very well, in any
way that will hold reception on something as specific as, say, a cellular
phone.
"Heh-l'hoh" she says into the receiver, with a thick polynesian sounding
accent, as it would sound coming from a fat german lady. Her phone is ringing
in one of those horrendous midi versions of Mozart's symphonies. I think this
one was Mozart, because Bach never wrote anything that annoying, and Beethoven
was good even when he was deaf.
It rings for three canons, my patience is almost gone. I have heard most of
this deplorable concertina for the third time when she starts up with the
throat-clearing sound that passes in her language as a greeting. My patience is
gone. My eyes shoot up and I can only wonder: am I going to start a riot in
this train, packed up like a bunch of sardines? If you're reading this in PA1N
Volume 7, then whatever happened, I survived.
-?------------?-----??----------??????????????????????-------------------?????-
PA1Nv7x04 ----------------------------------------------------------------[ 4 ]
[ Technological Slavery ]
[ angel ice ]
[ 4 ]-----------------------------------------------------------------PA1Nv7x04
-?------------?---????????????-----------????????--------??????????????????----
Why is it that people never seem to learn? We keep making the same mistakes
over and over again. We run back to the same people who break our hearts every
time. What's so scary about being alone that makes us end up with the worst
people? Maybe it's just me, but I always pray to, well whoever that part's not
important, anyway, I always pray for a nice guy, a guy who will treat me right
and never hurt me. Then when I actually get that guy, which I have on more than
one occasion, I ditch him to go back to the same person who seems to love
ripping my heart out and messing with my head. Is it that the nice guys are all
too "safe", or is it just because I've gotten too comfortable? It's hard to be
on your own when you know how easily you can just walk back into his, or her,
arms. It's also hard to be alone when society has drilled it into our heads
that alone is bad, and if you're alone once you just might be alone forever.
ææ æI'm sure that long ago there was a time when privacy was golden. A time
where you could get away from all the people you lived with, just a moment to
breath and collect your thoughts. It's different now though; now when you're
left alone anxiety wells up and you start thinking about how you might be alone
forever. If you are one of the few people in the world who treasures their
alone time and to whom this doesn't apply, count your blessings. In this world
of cell phones, instant messenger, and cell phones with instant messenger,
there are a million ways to never have to be completely alone. This is what has
given us our "can't ever be alone complex". Think about it. When was the last
time you were alone? Not alone in a dorm room, surrounded by people in their
rooms, not alone with the TV on, or the radio, or your computer. I mean alone,
alone, just you and your thoughts. If you really think I'll bet it was when you
were trying to go to sleep one night. You know what I mean, when you're lying
there and all of a sudden you start thinking about everything you have to do
tomorrow, or everything you left undone that day. Sometimes it's random things
like,
"I like ham, it's good... good thing I don't live on a farm, if I
lived on a farm, I might get too attached to the pigs I might not
like ham so much. I bet I'd be horrible on a farm. I'd be good in
the city, not the big city, maybe a city in California, oh but
then I'd need suntan lotion all the time. Hmm suntan lotion, I
wonder what happens to the beach when it's not summer... does
anyone visit it? Does it get lonely too? Oh what if I'm alone
forever?"
See even when you're trying to sleep your mind can lead you right back to
being lonely. But I'll bet that when your mind races like this, when you're
trying to fall asleep, you get so frustrated. All you want to do is sleep and
your mind is contemplating the meaning of life. Perfect timing right? Well what
other time do you give your mind? How can you trust your judgments, and your
decision-making skills if you never actually take the alone time to think about
them? This I'm sure is what leads us to running back to the same tired people
who just aren't right for us but are right there. Maybe if we stopped to think
about it, we'd realize that being alone isn't that scary, and that with all the
people in the world how could there possibly be only one person for everyone.
With those odds, it's just not plausible that we would be alone forever. For
just one day try getting to know yourself again. Shut off your cell phone, put
away your computer, read a book instead of watching TV. Just get back to the
basics; you'll be surprised at how clearly everything will seem to you after
this. It's amazing how difficult people make things, when sometimes the answer
is right in front of you.
See just a little time, some thought, and now we're back to rational
thinking. So now maybe you can step back from the asshole that breaks your
heart or the girl who messes with your head. Maybe you will have the piece of
mind to wait for the right person, and maybe you, unlike me, will hold on to
that person. It really doesn't have to do with luck; it has to do with
patience. If you convince yourself that you're just going to be with this
person till the right one comes along, I promise you it won't work. The right
person will walk into your life and you'll realize that you're too attached to
the jerk to leave. This is the story of my life, hopefully it won't be yours.
[ ed. note: ironically, I had been considering throwing my
cellphone on the third rail of a subway car when I got this
in my inbox. It was just an overwhelming urge to see myself
do it, to smash the chains I pay monthly to bind my hands and
feet. Angel Ice hit it on the head why it is that I've always
had a love-hate relationship with my phones, pagers, computers,
and PDAs. As much as I like being connected, it's hard to hear
yourself think with all the extra noise. -- alienb ]
-?------------?-----??----------??????????????????????-------------------?????-
PA1Nv7x05 ----------------------------------------------------------------[ 5 ]
[ Project Loki Archives Pt. 4 ]
[ alienbinary and Danger Girl ]
[ 5 ]-----------------------------------------------------------------PA1Nv7x05
-?------------?---????????????-----------????????--------??????????????????----
"You said I tasted famous, so I drew you a heart,
but I'm not an artist, I'm a fucking work of art."
-- Marilyn Manson
Welcome to the Special Edition of the Project Loki Archives. This
particular edition is dedicated to impromptu art installations, preferably the
ones that appear in the middle of the night, so everyone wakes up and wonders
if it was always there.
As a loyal listener of Rantradio and a hardcore fan of industrial music, it
would be almost criminal not to mention Aidian Hughes, best known as the cover
artist for the legendary KMFDM. The night of April sixth of 2003, Aidian
Hughes, better known as "BRUTE," let himself into the construction site of a
future car-park in Barga, Italy. Over the course of a single night, he painted
the newly constructed retaining wall over with a seventy-five meter mural, and
tagged the peice in his world famous "BRUTE!" tag, done in a post rosenquist
pop art style. The morning of that day, people awoke to find a beautiful
masterpeice superimposed on an otherwise unremarkable peice of construction.
For five days the peice stayed on the wall, before finally the authorities
covered it up. To this day, I haven't found any record of him getting arrested
for these actions, even though he has done so in England, France and Scottland,
according to the Official Brute Propaghanda Website. For more information on
this, here's a link I got off the website to a news article about the whole
debacle:
http://www.barganews.com/whats_on/2003/brute/index.html
Although there are only a few major peices of installation art, and quite
few of these rogue artists, they do seem to be growing in number and in
fearlessness. I've found quite a few peices locally lately, and the emergence
of such installations seem to be increasing in frequency.
Around Mass. Ave, which is perpendicular to both Newbury and Boylston
Street, some rogue artist has been stealing street signs in the middle of the
night. This guy or group of guys or girls, then sand off the porcelein of the
sign, all that reflective surface with something like steel wool or maybe a
belt sander.
That's not the wierd part, and it's not the artistic part, either. No, the
best part is what they're replacing the signs with. Somewhere, there's a studio
full of sandpaper, enamel, spray paint, and some really twisted performance
artists. I say this, because when the signs are put back on the corrugated
steel poles, there are very well done landscapes of brains painted on top of
the signs. In the back, the original nuts and bolts have been replaced, but the
threads have been knocked with something heavy, so that they bend at a 45
degree angle, making it impossible to remove the artwork without taking the
corrugated iron pole, the sign, and the cement foundation with it. This, as far
as I'm concerned, is pure genius. Have a look for yourself:
http://thorn.e-lite.org/loki/art/brain1.jpg
http://thorn.e-lite.org/loki/art/brain2.jpg
http://thorn.e-lite.org/loki/art/brain3.jpg
Incidentally, around the same time as these peices started to show up, I
was walking around a familiar haunt in a suburb of Boston, when I saw an old
style phone, post-rotary but pre-cordless, crucified on a tree trunk, painted,
with it's insides exposed. I actually don't know what the hell to make of this,
because it's a really wierd-ass peice, but it's fun all the same. If it tripped
me up, and it sure as hell did, I can only imagine what it did to random
passers-by.
http://thorn.e-lite.org/loki/art/phone1.jpg
http://thorn.e-lite.org/loki/art/phone2.jpg
http://thorn.e-lite.org/loki/art/phone3.jpg
If there's one industry I hate more than most, and have a continually
violent reaction to, it's got to be the modeling industry. I had a friend who
was 12, she USED to be a model. I guess when she exceeded 90 pounds, they had
to let her go. That being said, I really, really enjoyed seeing on New Years
Eve of 2004, supermodels for H+M Stores with their faces turned to skulls:
http://thorn.e-lite.org/loki/art/skullmodel.jpg
http://thorn.e-lite.org/loki/art/upcloseskull.jpg
A lot of art is simply aesthetic. It's not something that communicates a
concrete or solid idea, but it does develope into something that's interesting
to look at. A lot of people, myself included, are very critical of so-called
"modern art." It's not that I dismiss it all as junk, although a great deal of
it is, it's just that I don't find a desire to look at it past a few passing
nanoseconds. However, some peices, like the following which was on Mass. Ave in
Boston near the roxbury border, are combinations of symbols that are basic
enough to exist without explanation. When combined and distorted, they almost
create a puzzle for the viewer to solve. This peice is done with a stencil and
spraypaint, and everytime I look at it, I have to wonder what it means. Is it
this person's signature? Their tag? Or is it just some design? Either way, it
gets you thinking, if only for a little bit.
http://thorn.e-lite.org/loki/art/hands.jpg
As I draw this installment to a close, it's important to explain why art
installations or imprompu paintings like these are special. Every day, people
get up from their beds, dreaming of what's most likely a better life than they
lead now, and when they awaken, they have to trudge through the city to an
office building. The scenery they see is the same every single moment of their
lives, and it lulls them into a waking coma where they can't see beyond their
immediate surroundings to the possible world that exists in the mind's eye.
When a peice of art, a picture or a sculpture changes the scenery, alters the
landscape, it wakes people up a little bit. Little by little, artists and
pranksters can wake the world up, and maybe give it a sense of humor too.
-?------------?-----??----------??????????????????????-------------------?????-
PA1Nv7x06 ----------------------------------------------------------------[ 6 ]
[ Ivory Towers ]
[ Manuel O'Kelly ]
[ 6 ]-----------------------------------------------------------------PA1Nv7x06
-?------------?---????????????-----------????????--------??????????????????----
Let me tell you about an experience of mine. It is still fresh in my mind,
yet settled enough to come to text. It happened when I went to my local 2600
meeting which had apparently been canceled. Walking back to my dorm room
through a number of campus buildings I decided to visit the bathroom and I
walked into the cafeteria hall. After washing I noticed another person had
entered the bathroom and as I walked still further out I noticed his backpack,
or rather backpacks. A mixed mash of pockets and strung together gear was bound
by various climbing binders and rope. Opening a small zip lock bag he was
preparing to brush his teeth. I almost walked out the door. I looked at him for
a second, saw what he was about to do. He was homeless.
He obviously needed a shower. I have enjoyed one if not two showers a day
for most of my life and this made me think for a moment, what if I shared the
showers with him. Few things in cyber culture are enforced better then the idea
of sharing. When I found I could help I was switched on. What better to help a
homeless person then to keep him clean cut. Our society judges the integrity of
a person from the way they look. Many would rather give a homeless person a few
bucks. In the end though this does not do anything for those that want to
change their situation. It does not boost morale. It does not improve their
image. It does not treat them with the care that someone who is in the shit
deserves. Although money in our society is a symbol of credit for work, the act
of giving that away to the homeless does not allow them to utilize that work
the way one might think. The reason I mention this is because money is not a
magical force that will reconcile the problems of the fringe. For instance, one
might argue that with the money given to a homeless person they could buy food,
shelter, and an easier living. They might clean up using the money. Although
many stories of this exact scenario exist, and money given to a poor person
should certainly be considered a contribution, what I wish to talk about is the
principle of the shower.
A shower means more in the public view. It is a sign of a commitment to
health and well being (meaning both sanity and mental attitude). When a
homeless person enters a building he is immediately targeted as if he has
committed a wrongful act. This double standard is created by stereotypes, and
fortunately it can also be destroyed using stereotypes. The shower gives a
chance of interacting with the world, e.g. when they go to exchange money for
goods or even better if they wish to interview for a job, the shower allows
them to look presentable and therefore worthy.
The homeless man paid no attention to me as I began to walk out. I made a
snap decision, "would you like a shower?" He looked ready for confrontation. I
spoke up again, "I don't mean to embarrass you or anything, but do you need a
shower? I think I could hook you up with one." At this point the awkwardness of
the situation was uncomfortable, the last thing he needed was pity. Yet, here I
was offering a comfort not readily available on the street. "Yeah I would like
that," he said, "But I don't know if you'll still be here in ten minutes." I
didn't know what to think, but I said I would wait for him. Outside the
bathroom I took up a chair across the hall in a large dining area, now empty
for the night.
The security team walked by paying me no attention. I caught pieces of
their conversations, *Kurrck* "Check downstairs in the bathrooms and the
kitchens for anyone that's not allowed to be there." *Kurrck * They walked
right by the bathroom however where the man was brushing his teeth. Once out he
saw me again and came over to the table. The two security guards circled back
and looked us over but passed by without a word. In the study of sociology this
would be considered using a dis-identifier. I being a clean cut student
standing so close to the man raised his status just a touch above riff raff.
"My name is Ben," he said with a half-smile. I told him my name and I shook
his hand, he immediately perked up further. He wanted to play pool. The reason
for this was not readily apparent until later when I realized that he was
checking me out. Being careful about those he could trust, and those that might
be some deceptive trouble. I suppose that he may also have trouble getting into
the bar even as a paying customer. I didn't care, I had nothing to do and I had
not played nearly four years so it would be fun to shoot some stick again.
In the bar he racked the balls. I looked at his technique and immediately
studied it planning to try it out later, as it seemed a different but good way
of setting up. I took the first shot, the break split in every direction but
the pockets. Four years really takes a lot out of someone. He made his first
two balls expertly, advancing from one to the next calmly. He positioned for
the third, an easy shot to the side pocket almost straight down the center. He
missed. I took another shot, wreaking havoc across the table, but nothing was
pocketed. Ben on the other hand made another two then tried for a shot off the
far wall. The cue sailed down the felt, bouncing back just nicking the target
sending it gliding to a point on the side wall three inches from the pocket.
I steadily took back my aim from the years of disuse. Now, into the second
game, I was hitting at least two balls a turn. Ben however kept matching me,
saying things like "Oh I guess your getting the feel back," and so on. I was
getting the feel for the shot, but not like Ben. He wanted a nice relaxing slow
game. So he would pick hard shots off the rail, lining them up slowly like an
expert riflemen. I adopted his style of play realizing how much I was enjoying
the game.
Game four rolled around about forty minutes later. By this time we were
talking about different styles of music. I found out that Ben hated rap music,
which I took to mean the 'gangsta' style that one always hears on MTV or Clear
Channel's radio stations. I told him that I agreed with him. However I pointed
out that many of the best rap artists are underground. His favorite music was
of course seventy's era rock bands.
We decided to leave, it was time to head to my dorm for the shower. We
pounded down the sidewalk. It was a cold night being January, and the stop was
a moderate walk away. Ben's pack swung back and forth. We started to talk about
politics and various regulations. We talked also about the economy. "Tobacco
and alcohol are the most powerful industries in our country," he said touching
on their addictiveness. Ben apparently had learned a few lessons about alcohol.
To tell you the truth I do not know whether he was telling the truth about
having not touched alcohol for five years. He seemed smart and aware of the
world around him. Seemed healthy mentally as well as physically I couldn't
really tell why Ben was on the street.
Since we were on the topic of addictions I told him about my life on the
net. How I loved personal computers and all that they represented. He seemed
mildly interested. Ben looked at me and said, "You see that's one thing that
keeps me from getting a good job that I can live off of. I'm an obsolete
person." I asked him what he meant. He said that he of course didn't have
access to electronics on the street, yet almost all prospective employers
expect some computer experience. I thought back to my last job interview, where
a small supermarket store manager specifically asked if I was familiar with
Microsoft Excel. I told him that after his shower I could show him the basics
of using a computer plus search and print anything he wanted to learn that was
on the net.
The campus bus arrived to take us to the dorm. In the dark bus we talked
about the university. I asked if there were any programs that would allow him
to learn what he needed. He said he hadn't heard of anything. Apparently when
Ben was my age he was studying drafting at a trade school. He loved to learn
the math often taking huge algebraic equations and reducing them to their
simplest form. His mistake was in getting bored and not paying attention. When
finally more interested in partying and women then his work, he failed. His
parents in his words were 'losers' who had their own problems, and so he
started hopping rails.
We arrived at the dorm bus stop soon after. The huge towers, easily the
tallest in the city stretched above us as we walked. I keyed into the dorm, and
we took the elevators to the eleventh floor. There were others in the elevator
with us, they stared at Ben and his floppy bag, and dirty outer layers of
clothing. I began to talk to him, searching for a random subject off the top of
my head. It was easy to just act natural on the street. Even in the cafeteria
with the security it was easy to act normal so long as I kept in mind Ben's
humanity. I was determined to not let the lie of the American class structure
creep into my head. Here my peer's were all around me. The elevator people
quickly accepted Ben as we talked, my words of normalcy raising his status that
touch above riff raff once more.
The elevator dinged and we exited and headed to my room. I knew my roommate
was out partying so I didn't expect trouble as I turned the key to my room. All
of the sudden my neighbor from across the hall yelled, "Oh my God there is a
homeless guy on the floor!" I looked at him, and quickly directed Ben into my
room telling him he could change in the room's walk in closet. I turned to Mr.
Rogers and told him to relax because Ben was my guest. Instead of taking my
advice he ran past me stopping in every open room he could find. "There's a bum
in the hallway." I looked at Ben he didn't know whether to dress or undress. I
told him to go ahead and get ready, and to just leave his pack on the floor.
Once Ben was done I grabbed one of my towels and a new bar of castile soap
for him to use and keep later as shaving soap. I walked him down to the dorm
showers just down the hall. Moments after he started the shower. Mr. Rogers
showed up and he brought the troops. "You can't have him in the shower dude."
Shit he was right. I probably shouldn't have have let Ben use the shower
without the permission of every man on the floor. Then again I'm sure if it
were a younger, or perhaps just nicer looking guy that I had met just fifteen
minutes ago they would not mind.
Confrontation started strangely enough with the rules. "If he's your guest
did you sign him in," Mr. Rogers asked. "Do you sign your guests in," I
retorted. No, didn't think so, no one did. The problem went deeper then just
the front desk. Mike cut to the heart of it, "You can't let him use the shower.
If he's a transient he could have some sort of disease that we might catch."
Every culture has its undesirables, mainly the lowest caste are the homeless
with incurable diseases.
I understand the fear of getting some foreign disease, but the truth is
even when leprosy was rampant the majority of shunned lepers had as harmless
and common a skin condition as Psoriasis. The point being that the dirt or
reputation that seems to surround a homeless person can not necessarily be an
indicator of contagious disease. Although I could not guarantee his health, I
couldn't see how running hot water over his body and down a drain would somehow
spread enough dangerous microbes in the stall to infect someone. If such a
disease could be spread in such a fashion wouldn't everyone have it by just
rinsing down after using a public swimming pool? No, the only disease that Ben
had that might be spreadable was homelessness. They still pressed the argument
forward, "Bullshit," I exclaimed.
I wanted to prevent them from doing something stupid to Ben. I assumed that
someone was at least thinking of calling the front office if security wasn't on
the way. If Ben was hauled out of the shower naked, it would be my fault and
the 'Rational' in my personal philosophy of 'Rational Anarchy' wouldn't let me
forget it. My conscience was already starting to tear at the back of my mind
for shattering the peace. I begged Mike and the others to please let Ben shower
this once, then I would promise to never do this again (technically true
considering even the initial response of Mr. Rogers). I also promised to wash
the showers with a powerful laundry detergent, and anything else they thought
might help.
They were finally cool with it. Despite this seeming acceptance, I went
into the bathroom and shouted to Ben through the curtains to try and hurry up.
He finished ten minutes later a total of maybe fifteen minutes in the shower
and I got him to change quickly in the walk in closet. Shutting the door I took
a deep breath. My eyes tearing a bit, I should have predicted the reaction, but
I hadn't. Ben asked whether I was in trouble. "No, I doubt it." I said trying
to calm down, "I haven't known them for long, but they have been very cool
until now. I should have thought this out a little more." Ben looked at me,
looks of shame, last few layers of jackets and sweat pants on, "I shouldn't
have accepted your offer. When you said you lived in a dorm I thought it was
just a small hall." I explained that it was my fault for offering something
that wasn't truly mine. After several moments of silence I turned a view of the
city in front of me. Ben spoke up, "You have a really beautiful view don't you?
I don't think I've been this high up for a long time." Yeah I do have a awesome
view from here, each light is a pin prick on the horizon a shiny example of my
status. "Yeah, its a real Ivory tower.", I said. I thought of all the wizards
towers in fantasy novels. A keep of which to climb uninvited was punishable by
a magical death.
I walked Ben out of the building. We moved down the stairs quickly. At the
side door I paused and sat on a concrete barrier. "You know Ben that wasn't
your fault some people just don't understand, and I should have been more
careful." He stopped too and set his pack down on the barrier, "Well I hope you
don't get in any trouble. If a college kid asks me again I'm going to say no.
Are you going to go up there and ask them not to squeal on you?" Yeah, I did.
Most people were cool with it. Still some, like Mr. Rogers, to this day look at
me with some form of disgust. Several days afterward, I left my door unlocked
for a brief period while taking a nap and woke up to find that some bastard
poured piss into my roommates clothes bag. I assume that the guy thought it was
mine, the message was clear, that if I spread disease on his property he would
do the same to mine. Sometimes it still fucks with me knowing that I was
responsible for that. I gave my roommate, who was previously cool with the
situation, five dollars to do laundry. Although overall it may have been a bad
experience, I would have done it again. Someday when I do not have to respect
the will of others, say in my own home, I will certainly do it more often. That
is how much I have learned of the value of a shower.
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PA1Nv7x07 ----------------------------------------------------------------[ 7 ]
[ Cold Steel On a Hot Day ]
[ alienbinary ]
[ 7 ]---------------------------------------------------------------- PA1Nv7x07
-?------------?---????????????-----------????????--------??????????????????----
. ... ........... ................................... ......... ...... .... . .
Editor's Note:
I'd like to make a note that this is based on actual events that took
place. I don't think I've ever written about this before, it's an experience I
tend to keep to myself. For obvious reasons, this story is a little bit
enmeshed with other stories and events from my life, and I've never told this
one because it's a rather incredible story. Ironically, when I was at summer
camp, I managed to complete the National Rifle Association's hardest test with
a perfect 50 using a .22 caliber rifle. I think it was an Armalite. Regardless,
I never did send the test in, or rather, the target that I took the test on,
because I hate the NRA. Ever since this incident, I haven't been a big fan of
guns, either. Everything's just fine until you realize you're not bulletproof.
. ... ........... ................................... ......... ...... .... . .
"Hmmmmm, what you talkin' bout punk?
Gimmie room as I light up the boom
Cock the hammer, wave the white banner
Ever hear a Glock go 'click' like a camera?"
-- Cypress Hill, 'Cock the Hammer'
- -- --------- -- -
Not a whole lot of experiences have the impact of staring down the barrel
of a Glock Nine. Blood and sweat pumping in competition, I tried to understand
what I was looking at, but all I could think about was the gun. I wanted to
know if smoke had ever come out of that barrel, if a slug had been marked and
autographed by all the spiraling nicks and grooves on its way towards the
annihilation of someone else. The safety was off. He wasnt messing around, and
I wasn't going to call his bluff.
This piece of steel and oil had come right the hell out of nowhere. One
second my opponent was trying to get me to take a hit of his mixture, the next
his hand was grasping a 9 mm, and somewhere in between, he had managed to pull
out the gun and aim directly at the spot between my eyes.
There was an almost inaudible sound that I remember to this day. Whether it
was a branch or the firearms safety switching off, Ill never know. But there
was a click. You know that song by Cypress Hill where B-Real is saying cock
the hammer... its time for action? If I had been watching this on video tape,
I think that would have been playing in the background. But at the time, it was
right in the here and now. How we got to be in this stalemate still confuses me
today, although Ive replayed the scenario over and over in my head looking for
new angles that I could have missed. If youre lucky, youll never understand
why I do this to myself, relive this encounter, but if you ever find yourself
in these shoes, youll understand. What Ive come to remember is pretty rough,
but it more or less all begins with the guy with the gun.
This guy we hung around with was always on edge. Ill never understand what
exactly his problem was, but It wasnt simple. Nothing about this was simple.
This guy was about twenty three years old, living in his parents place when
they didnt notice, and otherwise making his career as an amateur dealer of
contraband goods. Still, we needed his connections because we were all stupid
and didnt realize how much reality could leak into our worlds if we didnt
look out. Regardless, it happened like a really bad DARE advertisement on
television that used to show up every other commercial break in the late
1980s. He was the tough, evil drug dealer trying to get me to use drugs, and I
was the innocent victim of McGruff's bite out of crime. Except, I wasnt
innocent at all. The person with the dope was me, he just so happened to
have the gun.
Underneath the reviving spring foliage near the ruins of an ominous looking
smokestack, a deadly chess match was being played out. I felt like a knight on
some demented board; I wanted to turn around and run straight out there, but I
couldnt. Once I got my bearings back, I began to move in a very uncomfortable
fashion, talking to my aggressor the entire time.
I was walking with my back turned to where I was moving, taking sidesteps
and moving really slowly in the direction we had come from only an hour before.
Where this wisdom came from, Ill never know, but something inside me warned me
against flight. I was told later by a veteran undercover cop that if I had
tried to run, he would have panicked, and the coroner would have been digging
slugs out of my spinal column.
He wanted me to take a hit of some god awful looking concoction that I
learned was made mostly of jack Daniel's, coca-cola, robitussun, and NyQuil.
The only explanation for him pulling the gun that he could produce was an
allegation that I had insulted him. He had taken it personally that I didnt
want to drink his recipe, and somehow this made it a perfectly acceptable time
to him to shoot me on the spot. The world was moving real slowly on account of
the toxins in my brain, but when he stopped walking and began to push the
barrel
in my face, I sobered up so fast I could feel my blood shirking off the
effects.
Now or never, thats all I knew. You dont get a chance to replay a scene where
you die, you get one shot at it, and if you screw it up, you can watch the
other actors get theirs from your seat under the earth.
There are generally two reactions to the sight of a gun, panic or calm.
Even after the buzz from the pot had gone away, I was still serene. After all,
if he was going to shoot me, I probably wouldnt have been able to do anything
about it. My friends looked over at me, horrified yet still with narcotic
glazes in their eyes. I asked my friend to do something, and he tripped over
his words so fast he almost tumbled to the dirt. Looking down the barrel of a
glock will make you think fast, and once you have any idea of what to do, you
have to just run with it. Like I said, theres no second chance.
I walked backwards for what seemed to have been an eternity. I knew the
landscape really well, we used to trespass all the time. It was a great spot to
be a suburban drugstore cowboy; at least until then. An officer who wanted to
clean up the area had made it his business to park in a specific area over a
bridge, able to intercept anyone caught coming out of the woods stoned. For the
first time I could remember, I was banking on him being there.
I almost walked right into the cruiser once we reached the clearing. His
gun was back in the bag, but the hammer was cocked for delivery, and he still
wouldnt stand down. The blood rushed to my face as I found the words, and the
sweat pooled and streamed off my body as I spoke to him.
I told him that I didnt know what I had done to offend him, but that the
cops wouldnt care. I said neither of us wanted to be involved in anything
bigger than it had already become, so I was giving him the chance to put his
weapon away before the policemen came back for their car. I outlined just how
screwed he would be if he didnt cut it out, right there, right then. Frothy
saliva and threats of unfinished business pouring out of his mouth, he told me
to watch my back; but he said so a lot less politely. He realized that I had
worked us into a stalemate. He put the gun back in his bag and booked it the
hell out of there. I cant remember what happened after that. I remember
thinking about it that night, and I remember what it felt like when I realized
that I had just come inches away from being a statistic. Like I said, not a lot
of things can compare to staring down the barrel of an unfriendly gun.
PAIN Issue #7 CONTINUED
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PA1Nv7x08 ----------------------------------------------------------------[ 8 ]
[ The other Side of the PalmOS ]
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[ preface ]
One of the greatest tools at our disposal in the cyberculture is the
Personal Digital Assistant. You see them everywhere. I see so many PDAs in one
day that I start to wonder when we'll get those smart cloth scarves like in
'Holy Fire' by Bruce Sterling. Think about this: hacking is taking an everyday
machine, and using the entire thing. I mean every single diode and resistor,
every capacitor and superconductor. That's hacking. So back to the PDA again.
Why are they so underexplored in the decker culture? I think this is probably
because almost no one ever writes about it. That being the case, I figured I'd
be the one to bring it to you here.
[ the NEW history of hacking ]
Note: See Glossary if you don't recognize any of the technical
terms in the history below.
It's pretty much a fact that one of the definitive stages in the
hack/phreak culture was the invention of the wardialer. The ability to discover
new dial-up locations, PBX's, etc., this changed everything. Since this article
isn't about phone phreaking, I'm gonna skip why that was so important to get to
the point.
If one of the most powerful and defining tools in all of hacker history was
the invention of the wardialer, then I think it's safe to say that when L0pht
Heavy Industries, now known as atstake, released TBA, the Palm was accepted
into the mainstream of hacker subculture. Sort of.
The next real accomplishment in hacking history was the defeat of the
rediculously overrated DES. DES was supposed to be unbreakable, according the
NSA. They were incredibly proud of themselves, until, that is, someone realized
that you didn't need to break DES to crack it, you could simply encrypt every
word in a wordlist using the salt value. By comparing the ciphertext result
with the encrypted password string of the target machine, you could determine
the password. The rest, as they say, is history.
Take Novell Netware's case. Netware became so insecure over the years, that
companies started to divert all their networks to NT 4 servers. This, of
course, was because of the security advantages advertised by Microsoft to the
general public over and over. Of course, this wasn't backed up by the fact that
the L0pht released L0phtcrack for NT 4.0, which de-obfuscated and cut through
NT password hashes like so much butter.
It went farther than that, too. At around the time that the senate security
committee was holding conferences on just how vulnerable the internet was,
about three seperate password cracking applications for the Cisco Router were
published for the PalmOS alone. This should pose a problem to anyone who has a
clue as to how the backbone of the internet is composed; namely, a lot of Cisco
Routers are THE backbones to the internic name servers.
So it should come as even greater climax that The L0pht also released
PalmCrack, which cracks UNIX, NT, and Cisco Router passwords all in one. But
I'll go over that later.
Now, WiFi networking has spawned a whole new area of hacking that reminds
me more of phone phreaking than cracking computer systems. Wardriving was born
almost immediately after the release of 802.11b and it only took about two
months for warWALKING to take over. Suddenly, people all over the country
realized that their wireless devices could be set to scan for WAP's, then throw
'em into their backpacks and walk around the financial district until they had
several dozen free internet connections. That pretty much brings us to today.
Before I begin going into the various peices of existing software for
hacking on the go, here's a glossary of terms in case you run into a term
you're unfamiliar with.
DES - Data Encryption Standard, standard UNIX Password encryption
scheme, declared by the National Security Agency as 'more than
adequate' security.
Salt Value - the first two characters in an encrypted string, used in DES
WiFi - Wireless Fidelity, or 802.11a and 802.11b networks. This is a slang
term for wireless local area networks.
ASCII Move - Weak encryption schemes are used by big companies with too
much money and not enough brain power to figure out that we're
smarter than they are. Regardless, an ascii move is when you
reduce a character [a-z0-9A-Z] to it's ascii value, you get a
number from 1-255. The move is accomplished by adding or
subtracting a predesignated number from the ascii value. The
result is the ciphertext. I'll give an example later on when I
explain PalmCrack.
Wordlist - A wordlist is exactly what it sounds like. You take a dictionary
or a compilation of words each on a seperate line. A cracking
program then tries each word seperately as a potential password,
encrypting it the same way the target machine's administrative
account was encrypted, attempting to find a match. Wordlists are
limited however. If you recall PA1Nv1, there's an explanation as
to how many possibilities exist in just a 5 character password
consisting of upper case, lower case and digits.
Brute Force - When a wordlist is inadequate, as in the case of a password
like "iH4t3you," it's damn near impossible to crack the
password without trying every potential combination. A brute
force attack is when cracking program plows through each
combination possible, systematically.
System Auditing Software - System Auditors are peices of software that try
various exploits until a weakness is found in a
network or website. In order to make sure that a
computer is secure, it's important to use an
auditor, to check your work.
IrDA - Infrared protocol. This is the port used in the palm pilot for
"beaming" applications and data from one device to another.
DragonBall - the original Palm Pilot processor was developed by Motorola
for 3Com. For reasons I don't remember, and don't really think
matter, they decided to code name the processor dragonball.
[ tools of the trade ]
Essentially, you want to think of your PDA as a helper tool that you carry
around. When you're building a network, you don't want to have to stop and call
your buddy to figure out how the hell to terminate the ends of a cat 5 cable,
the crimping alone is a pain in the ass. That's why I think it's essential that
any IT person have RJ45 running on their palm. This is an illustrated diagram
of the three possible terminations, namely: Computer to Hub, Patch Cable and
Rollover cable. For this particular program, you need a palm with a color
screen.
Software: RJ45
prc filehandle: RJ45.prc
Website: http://www.palmary.com.hk
Of course, while you're at it, you can always just hook that company owned
cellphone to your Palm's modem and wardial in the meantime. All you need is the
L0pht's TBA, written by Kingpin. I should be honest, however, TBA is a little
moody, and can give fatal resets on higher end devices. Nevertheless, here it
is:
Software: TBA
prc filehandle: tba.prc
Purpose: PalmOS Wardialer Program
Website: http://www.atstake.com/research/tools/info_gathering/
Now, if you are setting up a network, you're going to want to audit this
network very tightly, to make sure it's not full of holes, of course. This
requires you to audit the passwd file or password hashes, depending on the
system. Luckily, while you're on the subway, you can still do that, making your
office mobile. It'
s best I start with PalmCrack first.
Software: PalmCrack
Purpose: Password Auditor
Capabilities: UNIX, NT Hashes, Cisco, brute force, wordlists.
PalmCrack is one of the first utilities to take advantage of the entire
Palm processor. Although originally developed for Motorola's dragonball
processor, I've tried it on my Zire71, and it's capable of working just fine
with the new Intel designed processors in Palm's new devices. There are three
password schemes that are tackled by PalmCrack, namely: UNIX DES, NT 4.0
Hashes, and Cisco Router Passwords. L0phtCisco uses an ascii move to decrypt
Cisco 7 passwords. There are two fields. Encrypted string, and Decrypted
String. Here are a couple of auditors to get you started.
Software: L0phtCisco
Purpose: Password Auditor
Capabilities: Cisco 7 Router Passwords
Software: NotSync
Purpose: Password Retreival
Capabilities: PalmOS owner passwords
Website: http://www.atstake.com/research/advisories/2000/index_q3.html
Note: notsync works on an amazing concept. I recommend reading the AtStake
Advisory on the website above. The way it works is by sending an IrDA packet to
the target palm pilot, and convincing the machine that it's hotsyncing. For
some reason, this makes the target palm vulnerable to attack and notsync is
able to retreive and crack the PalmOS encryption scheme used for Palm
passwords.
Software: iPivot
Purpose: iPivot and Intel Netstructure Password Generator
Website: http://www.atstake.com/research/tools/password_auditing/
It would be completely irresponsible of me not to mention some security
software as well, since, after all, you don't want someone peeking at your
address book. You can take the freeware route, which is really all that's
necessary, and use something like Cipher, or Vignere Cipher.
Software: Cipher
Purpose: Crypto
Website: http://pda.tucows.com/palm/preview/33510.html
Software: Vignere Cipher
Purpose: Crypto
Website: http://pda.tucows.com/palm/preview/77265.html
There are a few more applications worth mentioning for the purpose of
showing how versatile a tool the Palm can be. I can't vouch for the rest of
you, but I think it's a complete bitch to try and remember chmod numbers. I
can't set privelidges worth a damn without a reference. For that, chModConv is
something anyone who manages unix workstations should look into.
Software: chmod Converter
Purpose: Utility
Website: http://www.ivorygate.com/fd
[ more to come ]
I honestly couldn't offer much insight into how the newer apps work for the
palm, particularly the wardriving apps. Unfortunately, the Zire71 isn't WiFi
capable. There are a couple of interesting apps I would recommend looking into
for anyone with a Tungsten or other wireless device. For one, the L0pht has
just recently come out with a program called AUSTIN which appears to be nmap
for wifi-- on speed. Also, there are a phenomenal number of ports from basic
unix apps like nmap, such as NetCat, which is a tcp scanner for the PalmOS. If
anyone has experience with these applications, feel free to write to me and
tell me how they work. I'm living a little bit too, well, bohemian for that. If
I had the money, I'd probably have a wireless palm. Oh well.
Regardless, rather than going on, as you can see just how many applications
have been developed for the palm and what you can do with the environment, it's
obvious I can't list all the possibilities in one article. It's possible this
could be the first installment in a series. Until then, enjoy the rest of the
issue.
-- alienbinary, 2004
-?------------?-----??----------??????????????????????-------------------?????-
PA1Nv7x09 ----------------------------------------------------------------[ 9 ]
[ Why Hallmark Can Just Die ]
[ alienbinary ]
[ 9 ]-----------------------------------------------------------------PA1Nv7x09
-?------------?---????????????-----------????????--------??????????????????----
February is one of the most disgusting and decadent months of the year for
America. Every February 14th, americans all over the country cock the hammer
back and paint the walls with their grey matter, or take a bath with the
toaster. It's always the same crap, too. The media shrugs and claims ignorance
of what would drive a person to such desperate measures. Then, after the news
anchor has shown enough decorum, they cut to commercial and the answer is right
there.
Have you ordered your flowers yet?
and...
Diamonds are what she wants this Valentines Day.
Fucking valentines day. Only in a country like America could a special
interest group like the greeting card industry hold so much sway, that they can
establish a national holiday that follows you into your own bedroom.
When I was a little kid, Valentines Day was the day I was most afraid of.
Good god did I fear that day. It doesn't help that my birthday is on
Valentine's Day, either. I remember the night before, how I would hope against
hope that this would be the year where I wasn't left out. Yet every year, the
bell would ring, we would load up on sugar, and tiny index cards with cartoon
characters would profess a prefabricated love for the first person to see the
card once the envelope was removed. In those days, what you had in your
valentine box, that was status. But when all the cool kids had to empty out
theirs two, three times I day, I still would be lucky it I got someone else's
lollipop wrapper. Same thing every year. I would go in and pray for a reprieve
and every year I'd be shot down and made to feel smaller by society. This, I
remember thinking, is a really peculiar outcome for a holiday about love and
friendship.
Back then I didn't know what love was, and I didn't know what friendship
was either. When you're a little kid, friends and aquaintences are almost one
in the same, the only politics involved had to do with who got picked for whose
dodgeball game and so forth. That was true, at least, for every day except the
fourteenth of February.
When I reached the age of, well I don't know, whenever the hell you're in
sixth grade, I came to the conclusion that it wasn't fun to be embarrassed on
your birthday and that I should do something about it. The student council was
selling carnations and other valentines day paraphanelia at the time, and you
could order them for a person you deemed special enough to receive a freshly
butchered flower. Seeing as I was on the student council, I put my name in the
books and put the right amount of money in as well... or maybe just put my name
down... and I sent myself flowers from two different people. I let some people
in on this, so they wouldn't destroy the ruse. It went without a flaw, and I
was the recipient of some dead flowers. Looking back, I wonder how the hell I
managed to get to the point where I would be so drastic in my subterfuge as to
stealthily deliver a bouquet from myself just so I could walk around and act
annoyed at the extra weight.
I cared because I was supposed to care. They say that a guy looks better to
other women when he's with a beautiful woman, and vice-verse. I suppose that I
was hoping that I could use this phantom stalker to attract the attention of
the opposite sex. It didn't work, because they all knew who sent flowers to
whom, it was a big fucking conspiracy. Regardless, it did attract the attention
of the guys. The boys weren't in the know about the covert floral operations,
so they flocked on me like vultures, trying to pry the information away from me
as to "who the chick was." It's ironic, I don't think any of us had a fully
developed sex drive at that point, but we had seen enough television to beleive
that we had to be "banging the cheerleader" by high school.
This, I don't need to go on any further about, as I've already shamed
myself enough by telling you, the reader, possibly someone who was once fooled
by my plans. That's unlikely though, because I don't think anyone I was trying
to fool remembers those years. The only people who can remember their hall of
shame, all time worst valentines days, are those who are condemned to similar
indignities.
Now, everyone is a doomed person on that day. Even if you're seeing
someone, there's so much pressure. First I'll start with the primal urges that
are affected. I can only speak from a male point of view, as I've never had the
experience of being anything else, but the one thing that's always most
troubling for guys about intimacy on this particular funereal day is that the
sex must be better than any other day of the year. This entails a couple of
things. One, the sex must be spontaneous, which is fucking impossible since you
have to plan the whole night out about a month in advance. Two, it's got to be
the best sex of the year, but so do these holidays (some only apply to the less
religious, and more depraved of us all, of which I am a member.) The sex has to
be "the best" on the anniversary, both partners' birthdays, christmas if you're
twisted like me, the day after final exams, and for most of the goth culture,
halloween. Fantastic. That's a lot of days that have to be superior to
eachother. Seeing as one can't be better than the other without having failed
on one occasion, we're already doomed.
Next, there's the economics of the whole thing. As I lay into this part of
the problems with february 14th, I'd like to give a special fuck you to the
following groups, industries, companies and social structures:
The whole greeting card industry, especially you motherfuckers who managed
to dress up little kids in adult clothing, get em to kiss and take black and
white photos WITHOUT GETTING ARRESTED, fuck you. Same for the flower industry.
I know a lot of botanists, and I think it's great that you like plants so much,
but I think you have your priorities fucked. If you wanted to celebrate beauty
by giving someone flowers, or in your case, selling them to someone for that
purpose, I SUGGEST NOT AMPUTATING THE ROOT STRUCTURE.
The candy industry can eat a big fat dick around now, too. If I want to buy
some skittles at the store, I don't want them to be covered with hearts. I
don't. I have zero interest in a romantic relationship with my junk food, so
keep your stupid holidy the FUCK out of my pantry.
The tobacco industry and the wine industry are gonna go together on this
one. It's not a romance thing that everyone buys more wine on valentines day.
It's because they have to, because that's the ritual. And the ritual probably
exists so both parties can get innebriated enough to withstand the trauma of
having their love affairs commercialized. The tobacco industry cashes in big
time, what with all the people who only smoke when they drink and with the
people who sit in their appartments feeling extra lonely on this cold winter
night, smoking cigarette after cigarette and sloshing around a bottle of gin.
Now that I've gotten those out of the way, I can really lay into the
greeting card industry again. Did you know that the infidelity rate among
married couples in america is something like seventy percent? No question why,
in my opinion. Every little kid learns early on that it has something to do
with mickey mouse or the power rangers thinking that you're either "too cute"
or "extra special." I'm no marriage counselor, but that's not a good basis for
a marriage. Unfortunately, since that's all kids get to see at the most crucial
developemental stages of their childhoods in regards to love, that is at the
root of many relationships. Simple, superficial, two-fold high-gloss index card
philosophies and catch phrases. That's just weak.
Since the flimsiest industry is in charge this season, everything is at
it's weakest, including people's self control. Rape goes up, murder goes up,
and most of all, suicide goes up. What a great birthday I have. There's not
really anything I can impart on you, my fellow reader in arms, that will make
this any less painful a time of year for you, but I hope that you come away
from this peice knowing that someone isn't going to judge you for being single
this fourteenth. In fact, I'd like to dedicate this psychotic rant to all the
single people out there, think of this as your valentine, and don't settle for
anything less.
"...I love hate songs, 'bout mass destruction,
other people's pain takes my mind off you..."
- GWAR, 'I Hate Love Songs'
-?------------?-----??----------??????????????????????-------------------?????-
PA1Nv7x10 ---------------------------------------------------------------[ 10 ]
[ The Academy Award Bootleg Scandal ]
[ alienbinary ]
[ 10 ]--------------------------------------------------------------- PA1Nv7x10
-?------------?---????????????-----------????????--------??????????????????----
"I found out that you have to work twice as hard when it's honest."
-- 'Sway' Gone in 60 seconds
There's a great bumper sticker that I keep seeing everywhere I go, that is
when I'm looking for bumper stickers, which reads "Punk's not dead. You are."
I kind of like that. It has the sort of Sex Pistols versus Minor Threat
versus the Pist feel to it. In my mind, I get this picture of some guy being
powerdrilled into the ground for messing with Chuck Dukowski or, and this would
really be great, Sid Vicious. I'm not going to talk about music much right now,
but I figured I would set the tone for this particular article from yours
truly.
I think they should sell more stickers like that. One that says "metal's
not dead, but no one cares," one that says "Goth is dead. That's the whole
fucking point," and the one that's relevent to this peice,
"cyberpunk's not dead. the corporate media is."
I was just browsing the forums of spfd2600 when I noticed that my partner
in thought-crime Turnspike had posted a story about some moron who's been
busted by the FBI for leaking private screening versions of several new movies,
these leaks having then been stripped of the markings that make them different
from any regular version of the film, and how they've appeared on the net.
I actually learned this today, before I read that article, ironically,
right before I read that article and I was wondering how I had seen what I
definitely had seen. Laid out on a carpet on a dingy red line platform in
Harvard Square (one of Cambridge, Boston's most notorious locales,) were in
hindsight estimation approximately twenty four to thirty six of the most
expertly bootlegged DVDs that I'd ever seen, but what caught my attention was
that "Paycheck" was in it, the Philip K. Dick movie, and I'm a huge fan of his
writing. I've been wondering if the movie would live up to it's author's
undying passion for the genre he helped create, and the lifestyle we now live:
cyberpunk. I had no interest in buying the bootlegs, for several reasons I'll
go into later, but regardless, I was fascinated with just how professional
these were.
Think to the DeCSS case of a few years ago. Johansen cracked CSS with the
Reverse Engineering group "Masters of Reverse Engineering" or MoRE, and put out
DeCSS, the decryption program for unlocking Digital Video or Digital Versatile
Discs. He and his dad were then promptly arrested and his life sucked for a
long time. During the trial, the Motion Picture Industry Association of America
and the Attornies who do their dirty work, had a field day painting a picture
of internet piracy running amok thanks to rogue hackers like Johansen. They
painted him as a supervillain, which I think would be kind of neat, and they
sued one of my favorite magazines, namely 2600; the lawsuits weren't so neat.
They sucked actually. Thank god for the EFF.
A little into that year, 2600 the Hacker Quarterly came out with an issue
that had an awesome rendering of a theater with familiar cartoon sillhouettes,
and on the screen was a mock of the MPAA's rating system, stating that 'this
magazine has been deemed illegal by the Motion Picture Association of America'
or something to that effect. I actually own two of those issues, I might frame
one of them because it makes be laugh so much. If anyone missed that issue
though, and can foot shipping and handling, I'll give it to you. That's not a
promise. Besides, obviously you have to know me first, because I'm not giving
out my address. Anyway, that issue was full of hardcore industry bashing, and
it was superb. There's really nothing better than watching big industry get
lambasted by intelligent, free thinking people who don't give a fuck about what
anyone else thinks. It was a brilliant counter-defamation campaign, and it
worked. Almost everyone with a clue hates the MPAA.
So now we get back to the train station. Some dude with his blanket and
pile of DVDs was offering movies that weren't even out of theaters yet. I was
wondering how that happened, after all, it's a peculiar thing, especially since
I had "Paycheck" marked down as a DVD to buy when it came out. Looks like it
already came out before the studios had a chance to smear their propaghanda all
over it. I didn't buy anything from this guy, as far as I know, he wasn't a
pirate, but he wasn't really making an honest living either. Regardless, my
throat hurt and I hated the music some idiot was yowling into a mic he had set
up on the platform, so I took the first available seat on the first available
subway car and squeezed in to recoup my belongings. When I got home and saw
this article:
http://www.spfd2600.org/topic.asp?TOPIC_ID=908&FORUM_ID=5&CAT_ID=4&Forum_Title=
News&Topic_Title=FBI+probes+pirated+Oscar+films
on Spfd2600, I was releived to see that the future was kind of coming along as
I hoped it would be. I know that this is a really peculiar statement, because
it feels peculiar as I type it, but I can explain, and I happily will.
I'm a firm beleiver in the concept of karma, at least to a point. I think
that both recording industries, namely the MPAA and the RIAA went way too far
in their full scale assault on the internet. Think of what we have lost since
the industries have started to use the DMCA as a profit margin keeper.
Peer to peer software is almost illegal in the United States. Distribution
of almost any media is thoroughly tagged and marked so that misuse can be
prosecuted to the fullest extent of the, well you know the rest. Verizon, a
company I don't have much love-lost for, but I respect for the following
reason: when the RIAA demanded that Verizon DSL subscribers they accused of
violating the Digital Millenium Copyright Act had their transcripts turned over
to the authorities, Verizon said NO. Think about it. This is a big sign. All of
a sudden the conglomerate that ate up Ma Bell and all her little companies has
at least the presence of mind to lose a little cash playing hardball in court
with the RIAA, because they know any other way would be economic suicide. What
does that mean? It means that our voices are being heard.
As far as the bootlegs go, I think we can all sit back and have a damn good
laugh at the MPAA, the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences, the
Academy Awards (a seperate panel devised by the AMPAS) and the movie industries
that have potentially screwed themselves over by trying to assert too much
control. The oldest rule in law enforcement is that whenever something is made
contraband, a market is immediately erected around it, to make sure that
someone reaps the profits of whatever was made illegal.
The reason these bootlegs could signal the demise of the MPAA as it is, has
to do with history, something people just don't seem to look at long enough.
The industry wanted money and they wanted control. They put regional encoding
in the legitimate DVDs, they made them unplayable on all but two operating
systems, they threw so many fucking advertisements on the disc that they had to
develope a whole new set of code to disallow fastforwarding through these ads.
They've made it a poor investment in case you don't like a movie, because of
the standards imposed on selling used DVDs by the MPAA. And now, of course, it
really is safer and more economic for the average person to buy a bootleg,
stripped of ads and copyright protection. Face it, they created the need for
someone to leak these films, and someone they didn't expect actually did.
According to the Federal Bureau of Investigation, the Academy Award
editions of those movies contained two markings that would identify them as
confidential, and not for public viewing: one, they had a message saying that
the film was complimentary of so and so, and then for the first time, a digital
signature was assigned as well.
I've seen these signatures before, working at a radio station. When a music
director is sent an advance copy of an upcoming album for review or rotation,
the manufacturer puts a laser signature on the disc, part of which is visible
on the disc's surface. I was allowed to preview the upcoming "Damage Plan"
album, which is the new Pantera (cowboys from hell, too bad they broke up. new
stuff sounds good though.) and on the bottom of the Compact Disc was a digital
watermark, bearing a number that a letter wrapped around the CD was contained
in. On it, it stated that this number was registered to one XXXXXXX
XXXXXXXXXXX, where XXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX is my friend, the music Director, and
that any duplication of the disc would be traced, and the person whose name was
tagged on the device would be prosecuted.
Obviously, I didn't even take it out of the jewel case. I respect her, and
she does a good job, so I let her play it for me, in the capacity of a reviewer
one in the station at the time who was: a. employed
by them and b. knowledgeable in the area of hard rock and metal. She played it,
I jammed, it was great fun. We still haven't put it in rotation though,
probably because of the dubious markings on it. If I were her, I would have
destroyed the CD. If someone jacks it, she'd be in trouble, until we found the
bastard who took it. So here's a new generation of discs, DVDs and CDs that
contain watermarks that brand the owner to the disc, with a brand that is
electronically transferred to any subsequent duplicates or rips. Someone who
was previously on the MPAA's list of people who get christmas cards didn't
know that those watermarks existed when they sold over the discs to whoever it
was that put them on the net and stripped them of the visual traces.
The person who was registered to these films is one Carmine Caridi of the
Academy of Motion Picure Arts and Sciences, and he's in a world of shit right
now. The leak will likely cost Caridi his job on the board, his acting career
(except in court, let's hope he played a lot of shocked innocent and wrongfully
accused defendents in his career,) and most likely, will be sentenced to fines
that could pay for my college tuition a thousand times over and jailtime longer
than it would take me to go to medical school with that afforementioned
scholarship.
Now, I suppose this concluding peice is where I say how I feel about the
whole issue, and where I either defend or condemn the guy for his actions.
Here's the thing: I don't care. On the one hand, he made the MPAA who more or
less worked with this guy look like a bunch of incompetent fools, and on the
other, he committed a crime and got caught. The thing is, I don't know how I
feel about piracy, but I have a tough time giving a shit about major
blockbusters. The amount of revenue raked in by these clowns for their bad
acting is disgusting, and instead of putting the cash back in circulation, they
make donations to cancer research as PR moves and get the money back come tax
returns, costing the Federal Government a lot of money it could have used to
pave the roads, fix our schools and clean our ghettos. So, I guess, the only
person who should have a say in this matter is the great grandfather of
cyberpunk himself, the man who made it obvious that the world would one day be
like it is now, Philip K. Dick. It's PKD's art, I think he should be the judge
of what happens for leaking "Paycheck." As for the rest of them, It's not my
place to judge.
But I can still laugh at the scandal. That's what they're for, anyway. It's
a lot more upbeat than being upset about the homeless people freezing outside
of blockbuster this very minute.
-?------------?-----??----------??????????????????????-------------------?????-
PA1Nv7x11 ---------------------------------------------------------------[ 11 ]
[ RantRadio IRC, January 2004 ]
[ alienbinary ]
[ 11 ]--------------------------------------------------------------- PA1Nv7x11
-?------------?---????????????-----------????????--------??????????????????----
--------------------- #rantradio on "COPS" (you know, bad boys, bad boys...) --
<Turnspike> watching Cops have given me a new respect for criminals
<panther> cabbiterizer
<alienbinary> HAHAHA
<Manuel_OKelly> because the white guy is always beating down the poor
black
guy?
<Turnspike> this is the best chase i have seen so far and the guy is out
runnung them on a freaking moped
<Manuel_OKelly> heh
<alienbinary> what are the cops on?
<cabbit> rock the fuck on
<alienbinary> cruisers?
<alienbinary> or foot?
<Turnspike> Cops on FX channel...chasing the moped in Cruisers
<cabbit> we will kill if we need to
<Manuel_OKelly> well if its in the city the moped might kick ass being
smaller
<Turnspike> the moped just wiped out and took out a Gas Station
<cabbit> wtf
<Manuel_OKelly> it exploded?
<panther> !
<cabbit> 'took out a gas station'?
<alienbinary> that's rad.
<alienbinary> I want an animated gif of that
<Turnspike> no they guy just wiped out and buried his face in the grass
<panther> 'took out a gas station'?
<alienbinary> damn, imagine that? a fucking moped crashing into a gas
station,
blowing it sky high?
<Gryphin> there'd be some funny shit to see
<Perdin> Their watching you...
<cabbit> that's fucking k-rad.
<cabbit> hahaha
<cabbit> aw
<cabbit> thats not as cool
<cabbit> thatd be awesome ab
<alienbinary> next thing you know, we'd be declaring war on gas stations
and
looking for weapons of mass destruction
<Turnspike> the guy crashed in a yard in the projects where he lived, and
his
family came out and started in on the cops
<Perdin> lol. War for oil.
<Gryphin> how's that for a john woo scene? some dude on a moped, doing
15mph,
slamming into a gas pump, and blowing up
<Turnspike> That's why we are going to Mars...there's oil there. And Mars
is
the God of war.... War for Oil. It makes sense.
<Gryphin> all while turned around backwards firing a 9mm glock
------------------------------------------ everyone needs to watch less TV. ---
<don> today i made two jokes. a bad one and an "intelligent" one. ppl
laughed
at the bad one, and kept quiet on the "intelligent" one. what does that
mean?
<alienbinary> it means everyon's an idiot.
------------------------------------- ever tried to solve a rubiks cube? ------
*CimmWork/#rantradio gives maliciouskitten a rubiks cube.
<maliciouskitten> i hate those fucking things
*CimmWork/#rantradio takes the rubiks cube away.
<maliciouskitten> i would always peel off the stickers and put them in
the
right places
<CimmWork> My sister used to do that too. Made me insane.
<maliciouskitten> i think you can tell a lot about someone from how they
react
to a rubiks cube
<maliciouskitten> i would either rip off the stickers, throw it into the
fishtank or try and burn it
<alienbinary> I used to have a cracker for a PPC that would let you line
up one
side of the cube, as it was in your hands, and the program would
solve the cube for you, step by step.
<alienbinary> it was amazing.
<maliciouskitten> i would have payed good money for that more than once
*maliciouskitten/#rantradio nods
<alienbinary> seriously. dude never charged a dime for it either. funny
thing
is, like you said about the stickers, macman, who distr. that
program on his site put the caption "I could have used this,
instead of cutting up all my fingers peeling the metal
stickers off..."
<alienbinary> I've been known to either solve them within minutes, or
just
break them with my bare hands out of frustration.
<alienbinary> people stopped letting me near them, eventually.
<maliciouskitten> i used to throw out the ones i couldn't figure out, buy
a new
perfect one and pretend it was the same one.
<alienbinary> now THAT's genius.
<maliciouskitten> i've probably spent about 200 dollars on rubiks cubes
<alienbinary> how many is that, approx., you think?
<alienbinary> prolly like 40
<maliciouskitten> yeah
--------------------------------------------------------- one hit wonders. ----
<Asylumboy> sweet! my mom came back with cold meds!
<EvilSp0rk> my granny killed and cooked a chicken one thanksgiving
------------------------------------------------ eating people. 'nuff said. ---
<kimeve> was reading an interesting book on the subject of canabillism
the
other day.
<kimeve> and it was perfectly moral in the societies which practiced it.
<cabbit> i declare war on the moral majority
<panther> Yea, maybe they have WMD!
-?------------?-----??----------??????????????????????-------------------?????-
PA1Nv7x12 ---------------------------------------------------------------[ 12 ]
[ My Take on Tax Reforms ]
[ alienbinary ]
[ 12 ]----------------------------------------------------------------PA1Nv7x12
-?------------?---????????????-----------????????--------??????????????????----
On the front page of the newspaper I was reading this morning as I tried to
keep down my lunch, there was an announcement that President Bush is going to
ask for an increase in Domestic Security spending, because that's "something
that affects all americans." No kidding, this wasn't in quotes in the column,
the writer actually stated that it was a fact that domestic security is
important to me. I fuckin' hate when journalists tell me what my values are; I
hate it even more when they get it wrong. To be honest, it's not money that
makes national security, it's patriotism. Thing is, if everyone in office and
in lobbyist positions keeps on acting like a criminal, how the fuck are we
supposed to feel patriotic? Don't get me wrong. I love my country. I do. I love
the people, and the culture that once came from here. But I am not proud of
what my tax dollars are financing right now.
I'd like to talk about homeland security for a bit, as the first on the
chopping block for my tax reform. I don't care for the way we do things in
America. Federal Agents are one thing. For the ones that I've met, they do
their job, and they do it well because they love their country and they like
what they do. A friend of mine went into the coast guard to be a crewman on a
USCG Cutter, off the coast of Miami, to intercept narcotics that are being
smuggled into the country. I asked him why he was doing it, what stake it had
for him. He pulled out his wallet, and showed me a picture of his newborn
neice. He said that he didn't plan to have kids himself, but he planned to help
his sister raise her little girl as his own, and that it ripped him apart when
he thought about her getting her hands on something as destructive as cocaine
or ecstacy. Sometimes, just sometimes, cops become cops for the right reasons.
In the meantime, he's on the Police force around here, and he's been
reprimanded for going above and beyond the call of duty to attain justice. He's
one of the cops you hear about who respond to domestic disputes with full
concentration. All he cares about is making sure the real victims are okay, and
that there is enough evidence to make sure the son of a bitch who caused it
goes down for the count. There aren't enough people like that; people who would
walk into a gun to save the life of a little girl.
With all this, you'd think I'd be a fan of increasing National Security
spending, right? Not in the least. My friends in L.E. make a poor salary, but
they're the best of the best. They don't need a pay raise to put their lives or
even entire careers on the line for the safety of a civilian. And what's more
important, they understand the difference between a mistake and a crime.
Everyone deserves a second chance, well, almost everyone. You know what would
happen if we received an increase in Homeland and Domestic Security spending?
We'd invest more in the Amber alert system, as well as put more money into
DARPA's IDent card projects. They would put more cameras in the streets, and
they would build more jails.
Superior security always comes from superior training. Just as you don't
imporove a school system by ignoring the teachers and buying new pencils, you
don't invest in machinery and firepower while ignoring the people who have to
operate these devices. We're heading into a phase where the cops don't matter,
just the APCs that they arrive in, or the glorification of the bust. Fuck that.
I have friends overseas, and I don't give a damn if the pentagon needs a new
carpet. I care that there are better trained medics aboard the ships and in the
camps where my friends are stationed, should something go wrong. But do you
think a cent of this increase in spending would go to training? Not at all. If
it would, then Mr. President would also ask for a dramatic increase in
education spending, because it's education that makes people able to perform
tasks like field surgery. So far, Bush has cut the financial aid budgets to
shit, making me suspicious that he doesn't give a damn about books, just guns.
Enough about the mythological beast known as National Security.
As to how this peice started, it so happens that as I write this, I'm
trying to focus through the din of several stereo systems going all at once. I
could probably decrease the chaos level by turning down or indeed off, my
music, but I wouldn't dare do that. There's still hope for these people, at
least I'd like to beleive so. Right now, someone is playing a remix of a remix
of a korn song I never actually liked. Such a shame. Over the roar of
perforating subs, I asked one of the least intelligent of my fellow inmates
here at college what they spent on their sound equipment. If you know anything
about third-world economics, what they spent could feed an entire city for a
week. No kidding.
Recently, someone bought me a wrist rocket while in Nicaragua, one of those
seriously lethal suckers that can take out an impala or a gazelle (or whatever
the fuck they hunt down there.) The whole deal cost them the equivalent of a
single American dollar. Let's do some basic math here, so you can understand
the absurdity of that. The average metal and latex wrist rocket costs about
twelve dollars USD in new hampshire. Add a package of ball bearings that are
the only reliable ammunition for the american brands, and you have about twenty
to twenty five dollars worth of hardware. Sort of. Bare in mind that my peice
is the real deal, it's meant for survival in the bush. That means that I have a
better peice of equipment that cost a twenty fifth of the cheaper american
versions. Now let's expand on this. The people down the hall, who are playing
something that suspiciously and aggravatingly sounds like Creed, paid about
five grand total for their systems. I shit you not. It gets better. Their
speakers blow out all the time, I can hear it from my cement bunker of a room
in here, and it's hysterical. Meanwhile, I've got some acrylic H and K's that
can shake heavy objects off of shelves without perforating, which ran me about
a buck ninety.
Why am I discussing this, you might be asking? Because it makes me think of
what I could do if I went from hall to hall with a solid chlorophorm solution
and releived these assholes of their sound systems, sold them on the fence,
then sent the money to an organization that did foreign releif. Sometimes it's
hard not to think about these things. It makes me understand why many nations
hate america so much. Perhaps this wasn't the best example of economics gone
way out of proportion, but seeing as my ears were ringing, it was hard to think
of anything else. Besides, it's on the line-up of things that are severely
pissing me off.
First of all, why the fuck do we have to spend tax dollars on financing the
fucking elections? I don't like any of the assholes who are running. I was
looking through a newspaper today at a four page spread about the elections,
presidential, I think, and I couldn't find a candidate who wasn't a criminal.
Last time I checked, in a bi-partisan system, the government can't be partial
to a single party, yet Boston is spending a stupid amount of money on the
Democratic National Convention that's coming up soon. I find this incredibly
distressing for a different reason than the fact that I'd rather live next to a
psychopath with a fetish for medeival axes and blunt objects than I would live
next to a senator. What's distressing me most, is that I know a guy, well
several actually, but one in particular, who can hardly afford to keep himself
alive, while he takes care of a kid that's not his own, but who he has accepted
as his. This man is a better man than I, yet I'll sleep here tonight, in a cozy
single dorm room, covered by my own artwork, with the heat on. He might have to
sleep in below zero weather in a park bench.
And everyone I know has a hard time understanding why I can't sleep at
nights. I'm tempted to sublet this room to him for free, if I didn't know I'd
get kicked out of school for it. Once again, though, what does this have to do
with DNC funding? It's because I keep seeing the health and human services
budget go down, and I see times get harder for my friends. I've been to
political conventions, I know political figures. (note to anyone out there in
politics, I hope that doesn't unnerve you too much. I promise, I don't bite.)
The most spending during these highbrow galas comes from the fucking champagne
orders. There are towers of high-quality water crystal glasses filled with
expensive champaigne at these events, and the money for that shit comes out of
the federal funds designated for election spending. Fuck that. I don't want my
leaders drunk, I want them sober, and I want the money used to be used on
things like social services, and cleaning up the ghettos the right way. In case
you're wondering, the right way has nothing to do with setting a record for
arrests. It's about getting people back on their feet and helping them get the
needle out of their arm.
Or we can just do what we always do, and let another generation fall into
the hands of crack addiction and Immune Defficienies. It's your choice.
-?------------?-----??----------??????????????????????-------------------?????-
PA1Nv7x13 ---------------------------------------------------------------[ 13 ]
[ What's the forecast for Neptune? ]
[ alienbinary ]
[ 13 ]----------------------------------------------------------------PA1Nv7x13
-?------------?---????????????-----------????????--------??????????????????----
[ Introduction. ]
A lot of people talk about the internet, and their first experiences on the
internet as giving them a sense of power. With this powerful tool, we have
access to books, music, movies, magazines, newsgroups, webcams, games and
realtime news and sports coverage. Browsing the internet these days gives some
people the ability to know some of the wierdest things, and act as an observer
to the entire world, as it unfolds around them in real-time. You know that seen
in Chasing Amy where they're having the penultimate meeting in which one
character proposes an orgy to solve all of his problems? Did you ever look in
the background and notices that the TV had suddenly become a fish tank?
Ironically, this wasn't just some eccentricity on the director's part. When
some public tv stations were broadcasting late at night, there was less
programming available. As an experiment, some engineer came up with the idea of
turning a camera on the aquarium in his office, and feed that into the
transmitter. When the company finally found something to fill that time slot, a
deluge of complaints poured in, and it was found out that people all over the
community had been leaving the TV on, with the fish swimming around. Some of
them even named the fish, and developed a twisted "Mercerism-Style"
relationship like something straight out of the book "Do Androids Dream of
Electric Sheep?" otherwise known as Blade Runner, by Phillip K. Dick.
These days, computer peripherals and the applets and software to make them
do some rather extroardinary, or even peculiar, things, has made for an
entirely new genre of the same sort of phenomena. When UCLA Berkely realized
that it didn't have the capacity needed to crunch all the data gleaned by their
satellites for the Search For Extraterrestrial Intelligence (SETI) project,
they turned to distributed computing, and found that people were willing to
donate CPU time and power to the project, making it feasible. It's not uncommon
now to see someone's screensaver crunching numbers now for nasa, or folding
proteins to cure diseases. We have reached an age where knowledge, information,
and entertainment have merged to form what's been lovingly referred to by WIRED
magazine as "infoporn." In the following portions of this article, I'll cover
the practical to the bizarre. I'll outline how you can adopt and watch an
iguana on a Java Applet using your webbrowser, all the way to checking the
weather on Mars.
-----------------------------------
Pt. 1: Advanced Regional Traffic Interactive Management Information System
It's a fact now that pretty much anything you ever wanted to watch, you can
watch on your web browser. The internet has become almost the third eye, where
you can roam through the collective eyesight of the whole world, watching
anything from a fishtank to realtime traffic accidents. In fact, it was
proposed by one company last year that they put webcams up around critical
infrastructure points, and allow subscribers to earn money by watching the
webcams and act as digital security guards from the comfort of their own homes.
So far, the Department of Defense has found no use for this endeavor, at all.
You know that instant contempt you get when you're in your car, and you're
cruising at a healthy thirty miles above the speed limit down the highway and
you see that the lane in the opposite direction is backed up? You know that
feeling of being smarter and better that you can sometimes get? It's okay, we
all have those feelings sometimes, it's human nature. We endure so much crap in
our lives, that it's almost impossible not to feel like sitting back and
watching it happen to someone else for a change, so you can thank your good
fortune.
In Ohio and Kentucky, Artemis.org has set up a network of webcams so that
you can watch the traffic. The practical application for this sort of thing is
obvious, if you live in this region, you can find out ahead of time what the
traffic is like, regardless of what they say on TV. If you follow this link:
http://www.artimis.org/camaccess.html
you'll find a map of Kentucky and Ohio, with video camera icons peppering
the landscape. Each camera represents an actual traffic camera on the
intersection where it's placed on the map. Using this utility, you can decide
the best route if you're a commuter in this area, by actually seeing the
traffic real-time, without leaving the house. Unfortunately, this is only for
the regions mentioned, because I'd like to be able to watch the traffic along
the street my school is on. Sometimes I'll head out for a quick trip to grab
something to eat, and I won't make it back until late at night because the
traffic was so heavy.
How this system works:
ARTEMIS is a network of highway cameras that feed into a central computer.
The camera then takes a still every five minutes. When a user is connected
using the applet on their web browser to a specific node, the central computer
sends a new image and timestamp to the browser every time one is available.
Although the refresh rate is one minute, the images may have a latency of up to
five minutes, depending on bandwidth constraints and settings.
-----------------------------------
Pt. 2 Get Yourself a New Pet
a) Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife Live Camera Feeds
In an effort to educate the public on the ecosystem of some of the
indiginous species in the area, the Washington Dept. of Fish and Wildlife set
up web cams on Eagles, Owls, Bats, Salmon, Seals and Herons. Using feeds from
Puget Sound and Kent, any remote user is able to watch nature do it's thing
from their web browser. This is probably one of the coolest sites, because of
the well designed interface. The refresh rate is 10 seconds, unfortunately, the
sessions for which a user can watch the feed is limited to fifteen minutes.
http://www.wdfw.wa.gov/wildwatch/
b) The Stanford University FroggieCam
For some reason that escapes me at the moment, the staff at the Stanford
University Ferrel Lab have set up a webcam and java applet that allows you to
watch their pet frog. Like I said, I don't know why, but it's there. What's
even more astounding, is that it's actually kind of entertaining to watch. At
the time I'm writing this particular bit, the frog is making a mad dash for the
surface. Perhaps he or she got sick of being watched. After all, according the
hit counter CGI, 19,113 people have already visited the FroggieCam. How would
you like it if you have a camera in your bedroom?
http://www.stanford.edu/group/ferrelllab/frogtank.html
c) Agocam.com: watch anything.
The last pet/animal oriented webcam I'll mention is the Agocam network,
which has to have the most ecclectic combination of potential feeds of any
webcam site I've ever seen. You can choose from the following: a litter Box, a
chicken Coup, several Aquariums, "Nibbles" the Hamster, an iguana, and a
rabbit. It should be noted that a lot of this page is in french, so use the
thumbnails to navigate. Otherwise, I'll give you a hint: lapine = rabbit.
http://www.agocam.com/english/cat/48/index.php3?tri=date
-----------------------------------
Pt. 3 The Weather Channel Doppler Radar System
Now, for the most part, I've always thought it was pretty stupid to have an
entire channel devoted to telling you what the weather is right now. It scares
me to think that some people would not actually know what the weather was
outside if they couldn't check on their television sets. Unlike these people, I
usually use the window. However, let's just say... I want my very own doppler
radar so that I can watch the snow storm that I was told would happen tonight
reach the city I'm in, so I can finally go to bed knowing that classes will be
cancelled tomorrow.
I don't have a tv, and even if I did, TV isn't interactive. For some
reason, they keep skipping to the weather all over the place. For anyone with
an actual goal in mind, that's not all that useful. So, right now, I'm watching
the live feed from the weather channel's Doppler Radar system in realtime, and
I'm watching the storm fronts move over springfield heading my way. Right now,
some places in MA are getting slammed by huge snowstorms, and I'm watching it
from the sky. Take a look:
http://www.weather.com/weather/map/USMA0046?from=LAPmaps&name=
index_large_animated&day=1
How it works:
This is a really basic applet. The way it works, as far as I can tell, is
it takes a series of doppler readings over a few seconds, then compiles an
animation for you. The downside of this, is that it won't update in realtime.
You have to click "refresh" to get an update. Still, it's eye candy, and I
really am this bored.
-----------------------------------
Pt. 4 Air Traffic Control -- Live!
You remember when SETI@home first came out, and you thought it was the
neatest thing in the whole goddamn world that you could watch spikes of data
from the cosmos being interpreted on your computer? Did you ever watch in hopes
that you would be the one to catch the first glimpse of an extraterrestrial
waveform or radio transmission. I'll admit it. I did. My lust for that sort of
power hasn't decreased in the least, although I have stopped running the
screensaver because the build for this particular machine is unstable.
Regardless, I used to think that was one of the coolest things to watch, and I
was pretty sure that nothing could surpass it. Now think about this: what if
you could know the exact location of every single peice of aircraft traveling
over US soil at any given time, and watch a graphical representation render
itself in real-time using java applets, PHP, perl and all that other good
stuff? Open up your web browser and go to the following location:
http://www.flightview.com/TravelTools/ProcessFTQuery.asp?qt=at
You'll see a 2-D representation of the united states, with all the
markings, and you'll notice a couple of plane icons are hovering over major
cities, most of which are marked by a star. What you're looking at, if you
haven't figured it out already, is the current air traffic of the united
states. Pretty neat, huh? Now, select "view all traffic".
You'll see the same map, but superimposed on it are thousands of little
dots. Each one of those is an aircraft. In fact, right now, there are 1,714
flights currently listed as being in the air, and I can click on any one of
them to find out the flight information. This is interesting, in a sort of
abstract way, but not a lot of eye candy. Select a city. Since I'm partial to
this city, as it's the best in the world *ahem*, click on "Boston."
http://www.flightview.com/TravelTools/ProcessFTQuery.asp?qt=at&arrap=bos
Bam. There are three flights headed towards boston (Logan International
airport) right now. Pretty neat. I want to see MORE. How's this:
http://www.flytecomm.com/cgi-bin/trackflight?action=select_random
Realize that you're looking at a graphical representation of about 150
people who are 20,000 feet up in the air. Not only that, but this will even
tell you the airline, the flight number, the point of departure, the
destination, the altitude, current groundspeed, status, and even what kind of
plane it is. I think you're getting the idea, it's all about information. I
don't know why it's fascinating, but it is. Let's try another type of
monitoring.
-----------------------------------
Pt. 5 Space Weather
If you'll recall the introduction to this article, you might remember that
I promised to show you how to cheack the weather on Mars. Fortunately, the good
folks at NASA have devoted a stupid amount of CPU space and bandwidth to make
sure I can see the weather in space, which is more or less where my brain is
drifting off to right now. The NOAA, which is a division of NASA that I
honestly don't know the full acronym of, has created the website
SpaceWeather.com, specifically for people like me, who really care how fast the
wind is around the Sun. As for the time I'm writing this, I can tell you that
the Solar Wind speed is 513.7 kilometers per second, the density is 6.7 protons
per centimeter cubed, and a bunch of other stuff I could explain if I'd paid
attention in physics. However, I am interested in eye candy, after all, that's
the purpose of this article. I want to see what the sun looks like right now in
all the different filters, and I want to see it from a satellite telescope. See
your tax dollars at work:
1. UMBRA Project - http://umbra.nascom.nasa.gov/images/latest.html
The UMBRA project allows you to see the sun from all different electronic
points of view. We all know that if you stare directly at the sun for long
enough, you're going to be hurting in a little bit. Still, every culture in the
world has looked to the skies with awe, and apparently, the United States is no
different.
2. The NASA Planetary Data System - http://pds.jpl.nasa.gov/
Think of the Planetary Data System as your CIA Factbook for space, or maybe
the census bureau if you're planning a trip to Neptune. The PDS provides links
to data charts, video feeds, image archives, and live weather reports from the
various stations, satellites and spacecraft in orbit throughout the galaxy. I
think a lot of people, myself included, will agree that space is pretty
fascinating. After all, the way the world is going now (remember the traffic
cam?!,) it might make sense to start looking up real estate listings on a
different part of the galaxy. For more information on what PDS is, and how the
PDS works, visit: http://pds.jpl.nasa.gov/about-pds.html
Now, what about mars? I did say we could check up on mars. Fortunately, the
people at stanford University have come through again with more infoporn, and
this time, it's all about the god of war. For the
3. Martian Weater Report - http://www-star.stanford.edu/projects/mgs/dmwr.html
This is a project run by a group of students and faculty in the Radio
Science department. Using data provided by the Jet Propulsion Laboratory, the
Planetary Data System and the mars exploration projects NASA is involved in
right now, they provide an actual weather report for Mars right here:
http://www-star.stanford.edu/projects/mgs/late.html#latest
-----------------------------------
[ Conclusion. ]
The majority of this article was for entertainment purposes, although I
found the research for this to be some of the most fun I've had working on any
PA1N article so far. In a lot of ways, after viewing all of this information
and realizing the tremendous power you have to look up basically anything you
ever wanted to know, it reminds me of what The Mentor said in "The Hacker
Manifesto" about his first experiences online where he compared the absorbtion
of tremendous amounts of information to feed his hungry mind to the junkie
getting his or her fix, and shooting it through their veins. He said he could
feel the information flowing in his blood.
There are a lot more webcams, real-time monitoring systems, and data
bureaus available online; in fact, there are so many, it's hard to find a topic
that doesn't have it's own devoted website. Regardless, I hope this article
gave you an insight into some of the practical applications of technology being
used right now, and just how far we're taking them. If not, I hope you enjoyed
the quick witticism.
alienb. 2004
-?------------?-----??----------??????????????????????-------------------?????-
PA1Nv7x14 ---------------------------------------------------------------[ 14 ]
[ Outro ]
[ alienbinary ]
[ 14 ]----------------------------------------------------------------PA1Nv7x14
-?------------?---????????????-----------????????--------??????????????????----
There's a lot to say about this issue. First of all, I'd like to thank
Manuel O'Kelly for writing what is in my opinion, one of the best peices of
writing to ever be archived in PA1N Magazine. It should be noted, that the
story he wrote is true. I had a conversation with M_O'K about the topic of
homelessness one evening in the RantRadio IRC, and he started to tell me this
story. Obviously, it was too long to tell in the chat in any detail, so he said
"that gives me an idea," and thus was born "Ivory Towers."
There are a lot of things that can be said about this issue in particular.
One, it's slightly more eclectic than any issue to date. By that, I mean that
the articles and peices gathered here are ALMOST on a theme, but then you run
into something like "Why hallmark can just die" and it's all downhill... sort
of. The truth is, I don't like reading things that are all depressing. I like
humor, dark and sardonic, but still, I think it's essential. While the things
covered in this magazine are informational, and also entertaining, sometimes,
we're just messing around. After all, on the internet, there really are no
boundaries (yet,) and there never should be.
I often thank whoever it is up there that likes this magazine for making it
so successful. I measure success by feedback and community participation. It's
still amazing to me that we have writers from so many different online
communities, yet we all share a common goal; to make something worth reading,
and maybe, if we get lucky in the process, we can make a difference in the
world too. It amazes me that you can do a google search for "PA1N," and the
query will come up with a significant amount of legitimate PA1N Magazine hits,
along with all the other "pa1n" strings that seem to be all over the internet.
It's safe to say that at least someone, somewhere, is enjoying this, and that
makes me happy as hell. Even so, if this zine became just another text file on
your computer, I guess I'd be okay with that too. After all, I can't convince
any one of you, nor will I try (too hard), to beleive in what's being done
here.
I would however, like to urge you all to take a good look at what some of
the PA1N editors have to say. There's a massive misconception among people that
you have to be a good writer, which, according to this same misconception,
means that you have to already be an established writer. That's not true.
Actually, it's so far from the truth, I'm not sure why it persists. First of
all, there's no such thing as a first-time established writer. It's not
possible, because the first time you put your work out, is by very definition
obscure, because no one can have possibly seen it yet. A lot of people ask me
"what do I do," and I sort of shake my head, and always tell them pretty much
the same thing. Get a notebook and a nice pen. Write for at least an hour a
night, and you'll be amazed at what you can come up with. It's the beleif of
society that we can't do anything, not as "regular" people. But we're not
regular, we'rte not part of the flock, and we don't go by their rules.
I'm encouraging all of you who have read this far to vist the spfd2600.org
forum, so that you can catch up on all the previous issues of PA1N, if you've
missed any. For those of you wondering, this project has already yielded enough
quality content to fill a good sized hardcover book. Not bad at all for an
underground magazine. Until next time, keep checking for more updates, and
remember what I said in the beginning of this issue, something that I said off
the cuff to angel ice, who stopped me midsentence to write it down (I don't
know where it came from, as far as I know, it was just something that occurred
to me. No kidding, I really talk this way sometimes): it's not that we have to
try to change the world, only that we must change our perception of it's
boundaries.
So, thanks again for reading PA1N magazine, and look forward to
issue/volume number eight, which is already looking good. I'll leave you with a
thought from Henry Rollins:
"from the wreckage of humiliation, I got my self respect.
I pulled myself together, what the hell did you expect?"
- Rollins Band, 'Just Like You'
alienbinary, January 2004
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