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2002.10.13 : 2002.10.19
Saturday, October 19, 2002
Blab. Readers send yet more information on that
spam Windows pop-up thingie.
It appears that spammers
did RTFM. This article
points out that they've used a documented feature called messenger
service. Hmppf. I though Micro$oft didn't want anyone to document security
bugs. Perhaps now you'll move to linux. Prolly not, though.
Dorian
Prolly not. Similarly:
Popup spam: i'n't it great?
See this,
for instance.
Who knew geeks had their own news service? We imagine odd-looking guys
in dilapidated suits, biting the heads off of chickens while they write
the news.
Blab. A reader gets all slathered up about ...
> 5kOS
[Version 5.1.2.0]
Ooh! A little command-line interface within your very own Web browser.
(Type help
for a list of commands, of course.) You can even send yourself popup spam.
What fun.
Blab. And now, more complex attempts to explain our
recent odd search requests.
In reference to "Mouse with
a goatee"...
As I'm sure you know, there was an
episode of Star Trek where they visited a parallel alternate reality where
everyone was evil and had goatees. (for the uncultured, it was revisited
in South Park)
There was a comment on Mousie's website
wondering if that strange girl was really Mouse with a goatee.
So that's probably where that came
from.
Ah! We missed that, buried as it was in blogspot
comment thingies. Or:
[I]t may yet just be the
Mouse from the goatee universe.
All is explained. To the extent that such things can be explained, that
is.
Plurp. It was a Pawling Pumpkin Day today, as we traveled what
seemed like thousands of miles into the rainy and dreary Northern Hinterlands
to join Ian and the ever-mysterious C. (and Ian's sister Helen, just to
confuse things) in what seems to be a local tradition: pumpkin picking.
 It
turns out to be somewhat misnamed, as the pumpkins have already been removed
from their vines and are just lying in the field at the end of a ride on
a tractor-pulled wagon with hay bales on it, the field having been slyly
located a short but nontrivial distance from the parking lot so as to necessitate
the hay ride as part of the overall experience. So it's really more of
a "pumpkin pick up" than a "pumpkin pick," but whatever, we picked up some
very orange vegetables, hayed them back to the muddy parking lot and paid
exorbitant amounts for them.
Helen picked a huge one, as she was forbidden from having large
pumpkins when she was a kid, and now she revels in breaking this kind of
long-ago law. We picked a very orange, elongated one, hoping to think of
something clever to do with it before it rots. We'll see.
 Plurp.
By the way, those Enigmatic Images from the other week were all from an
even larger collection of stuff just like that at the ever-popular
CatholicShopper.com,
"Presenting more than 6,500 Catholic products."
We are not making this up.
And for those of you dissatisfied with merely sitting on the sidelines
while such Enigmatic Images pass before your eyes, we offer more interactive
involvement with Biblical
Action FiguresTM. Imagine the possibilities.
Oh - and do send us pictures, won't you?
 Plurp.
The blue dog
was just a pumpkin
action figure
Friday, October 18, 2002
Blab. That reader who admired the plaid goodie that's
always been in our masthead suggests an explanation for not having noticed
it until recently.
Maybe it was that amber screen
on my Leading Edge.
Or the drugs, eh?
 Blab.
A reader celebrates the intellectual giant that is Jerry Falwell and his
cerebral family.
God bless Jerry Falwell and
God
bless the USA!
And, on the linked site, we find "Diamond" Jack Holgroth, a Game Theoretician
formerly with the Department of Defense and a certified Vexillologist,
holding forth on the following issue.
The current Flag of the United
States of America (for the benefit of non-Americans and poorly educated
Public School graduates). While beautiful, an ignorant foreigner might
mistakenly suspect we were Astrologists or some sort of Stripe Fetishists
instead of proper Christians.
Have you already guessed that "Diamond" Jack has a proposed alternative?
Our proposed new version
of the U.S. Flag. This design makes it visually clear that we are a Godly
nation.
Naturally, we like this a lot. We do have a suggestion for a slight
improvement, though.
Now, what was that bit about poorly educated Public School graduates?
(And while you're pondering that, don't miss Bibleman,
as advertised on "Diamond" Jack's site. Yowsa. Really.)
Blab. A reader clears up the mystery of mouse
with a goatee.
Clearly an evil anti-mouse
that got into our universe from the anti-universe through some wacky transporter
accident. The real question, however, is: Is the mouse anti-Jewish, anti-Muslim,
or anti-Hindu?
We'll leave that determination to "Diamond" Jack.
Blab. Our Treasured Readers, always more knowledgeable than we
about technical stuff, clear up the mystery of spam
Windows pop-ups. The first one notes that it was from a psychic.
Psychics have the ability
to cause Windows pop-ups at a distance. What's so unusual about that?
Oh! Well, nothing, we guess.
A more minimalist reader writes:
Your popup ad: see
here.
[inw]
But, of course, we're too lazy to click on stuff. Another reader writes,
somewhat more voluminously:
Regarding your Windows Messenger
Service spam, you should probably read these articles:
Wired: Spam
Masquerades as Admin Alerts
TechTV: Spam
Takes New Form
I assume you got the spam from home,
in which case you need to buy a firewall and block 135/tcp, 137/tcp, 138/tcp,
139/tcp, and UDP ports below 1024. Of course, you should really already
have a firewall and close all ports by defaul, only opening the ones explicitly
required. Although I'm sure the "I'll just close the dangerous ones" whack-a-mole
approach to security is a lot more fun! :)
Yes, but that requires actual knowledge and work and stuff. Instead, we
whack just that one mole with this:
It's Windows messenging.
It's a network feature normally used by the network admin. It seems there's
this company that has developed software that allows spammers to use it
too. Wired had an
article on it a couple of days ago.
The feature is turned on by default
in Windows Xp & 2000. James Madison University has instructions for
turning
it off.
Or you can set your firewall to block
the things. Finally, here's the url of the
good folks who make the software that allows all this goodness to happen.
How very interesting! And how kind of our reader to give us instructions
on turning it off that even we can follow.
The good folks at DirectAdvertiser (aka Those Responsible) can be contacted
at support@directadvertiser.com.
We encourage our Treasured Readers to make sure that these folks are informed
of the many valuable opportunities offered by Internet advertisers by submitting
their email address to as many of them as possible.
Similarly, you can let them know about DirectAdvertiser's toll-free
numbers:
1-800-323-2146
1-866-691-7978
And their toll-free FAX number:
1-800-323-2145
'Cause we're sure the folks at DirectAdvertiser want to know.
Blab. A reader sends us a heartwarming story.
A friend of mine got a plush
Cthulhu for my 2-year-old daughter. At first, she identified it as a monkey.
At which point, I got the joy of hearing my lovely wife explain "No, sweetie.
It's not a monkey. It's Cthulhu."
-pTang
As we always say, education begins at home.
Blab. A reader makes outrageous allegations.
The
Blue Dog has been spotted molesting
the natives in Zürich. Could you please put him on a leash? -
Morton
How dare you? The pictures to which you link clearly show a blue
dog, but not (we think) our blue dog. We can't be held responsible
for all of them. Can we?
Blab. Speaking of which, a reader insists on sending us a link
to a picture.
When
in Rome...
A young woman drinking out of a cat bowl? We can only assume this is some
kind of kinky D&s thing and, of course, we await further pictures.
Plurp.
The blue dog
really, really
enjoyed Zürich.
Thursday, October 17, 2002
Blab. That reader who is in love
with Jerry Falwell writes:
I didn't say I -liked- the
guy! "Sincere and law-abiding" doesn't mean "not a total jerk and
enthusiastic spreader of a horribly suboptimal and immoral meme-complex".
It just means he really believes the junk he spews, and he hasn't broken
any laws.
And yes, it is a very nice glass,
in fact. So phhhhhhhhhtt!
Interesting! So which does he sincerely believe:
-
[The Prophet] Mohammed
was a terrorist, or
-
I intended no disrespect [...]. That
was a mistake [...], or
-
Look! Fireball!
'Cause we're so confused!
Blab. Grateful for our ongoing contributions to the public welfare,
a reader writes:
You ruined Game Neverending
for me before I even started playing it.
OTOH, I suppose I could thank you
for having spared me the time... I wasted enough on mushes in the late
80s.
daniel drucker (3e.org)
Maybe so, but we're still playing it. We can't figure out why. We're in
the top ten (out of over a thousand players) in both experience points
and wealth. We can make (and buy) everything possible in the game several
times over. And yet, on we play, repetitively, mindlessly, asocially.
Could you please ruin it for us?
Blab. Another reader checks in with what might be good advice.
I definitely recommend not
spitting on the big, hairy guy. Looks like he's about ready to pop some
claws on somebody anyway, bub. Grrr.
Did you notice the other pictures
in the same directory? This
one is rather interesting, and likewise should not include any spitting.
L.
The link points to a pic of a woman directing flight traffic in a park.
We think. And we promise not to spit on her either.
Yow. Everybody's favorite fetish fashion store, FAO
Schwarz, just came out with a stunning line of Barbie FetishwearTM.
Collect 'em all!
 |
 |
|
Corseted Barbie
|
Merry Widow Barbie
|
 |
 |
 |
|
Tango Barbie
|
Hooker Barbie
|
Captivity Barbie
|
You always think we make this stuff up. But we don't. We really don't.
Yo. Did you know that cats snore? Well, they do. Or at least,
one of them does.
Plurp. Helen is doing early Xmas shopping in the large pile of
catalogs that reach our mailbox every single day. She says she's looking
for quiet toys for babies. We suggested plush Cthulhu dolls, which are
always a big hit, and educational to boot. We're not sure why she didn't
write that down.
Plurp. Most popular search strings this week from Plurp's
own gleaming chromium supercomputer?
-
"http faerie envy nu journal html"
-
"mouse with a goatee"
-
"mouse impostor"
So it's pretty much mouseville
around here now. And that's fine.
But could someone please explain
that second one to us? Thanks very.
Plurp. Long-time but confused correspondent Imani had a little
chat with us on IM today. Obsessive readers will recall that Imani
is an AOLie who has mistaken our AOL screen name for that of someone she
actually knows. So, we sometimes receive interesting mail from her. This
is the first IM, though!
You'll be pleased to know that we weren't mad at her for what she said
in her last email (whatever that was; she presumably sent it to her actual
friend's email address), we apologized for that thing we said in that room
before she arrived (whatever that was), and congratulated her for quitting
smoking. So we're buds again and karmic balance is restored.
We're always happy to help.
Yo. Tonight, we were typing away when the following pop-up, uh,
popped up.
We're befuddled. Is this a new kind of spam, using pop-ups in a way
we haven't previously seen? (It seems to be a Windows pop-up rather than
a Web pop-up.)
Now, we were on AOL at the time. [Long, sad story about our inability
to get onto the IBM network from home today omitted. Never stir the bits.]
Does that have anything to do with it?
What's going on here?
Plurp.
The final
and most terrifying addition to the
fetish line was
Blue Dog Barbie
Wednesday, October 16, 2002
Blab. One of our Treasured Readers was apparently unaware
of the dangers involved in sloppy language.
Damn, so my IQ's prolly now
98 or so, is it? Damn Damn damn, I hate it when I'm only just
smarter than most politicians, damn!!!
Yeah. Prolly.
Blab. A schizophrenic philanderer writes:
<We think Helen's beautiful,
don't we> << Yes we do>> <<<And we don't care who knows
it, either.....OOPS>>>
Back off, Bonzo.
Blab. A reader points us at another entity with an unusual name.
He
Who Now Has Documentation
It's, uh, a user manual for a cat, written in the style of computer
documentation. Now we want to see it in the style of a lamplighter tract.
Or a Bazooka comic strip. Your choice.
Blab. A reader is sure about one thing:
I used to be into epistemological
scepticism, but now I just don't know.
Hyar hyar hyar.
Blab. A reader sends us a link that is truly ...
Hairy
We are invited, in a strange and unexpected way, to spit on a hairy, disgruntled
stranger. We take a pass on that.
Blab. Have you no decency, sir?
decency? possibly not
Well all right then. We'll have to look elsewhere.
Blab. Yesterday, we doubted a Treasured
Reader who said (we think) that the U.S. is likely to use chemical weapons
against itself and blame it on Saddam. Today, we learn that that may already
have happened.
In 1996 Journal of Toxicology
and Environmental Health reported that the combination of pyridostigmine
bromide anti-nerve-gas pills, DEET in insect repellent, and the insecticide
chlorpyrifos produced, in hens, a neurotoxic effect similar to Gulf War
Syndrome. Abstract here.
The current spin is that these
chemicals didn't cause Gulf War Syndrome, just magnified the effects
of Saddam's supposed sarin release. (Move along, no sarin-free hens getting
sick here.)
Saddam is blamed for Gulf War Syndrome.
Evidence of his nerve gas release is inconclusive. The U.S. (accidently)
used chemical weapons (on its own troops) which produce the same effect....
Never doubt the Treasured Readers.
Blab. A reader offers us several more tasty possibilities.
Hmm, how to parse?
a) The blue dog was (the residue of
deep fried Twinkies), (charburgers), and (Jerry Falwell).
b) The blue dog was [the residue of
(deep fried Twinkies), (charburgers), and (Jerry Falwell)].
c) The blue dog was {the residue of
[deep fried (Twinkies, charburgers, and Jerry Falwell)]}.
Don't get me started on a "one-eyed
one-horned flying purple people eater."
We promise.
Blab. A newly assless reader writes:
Oh my God.... you should
have given out a warning before linking to amiright.com.
It's NOT a site you want to go to
if you're battling a cold. I just spent the last hour browsing through
there, laughing my ass off and coughing up a couple of lungs. Ouch.
Ooga lala poogita.
Careful, or you'll soon be lungless too.
Blab. Along that same byway, another reader reminds us of:
www.kissthisguy.com
Another goodie!
Plurp. Nothing happened in the world today. The U.S. did not
go to war with Iraq. Ashcroft did not sing religious songs in public. That
sniper guy slept in. The police still haven't caught him. So there's very,
very little to make fun of today.
We hate that.
Plurp.
The blue dog
never doubted
the Treasured Readers
Tuesday, October 15, 2002
Blab. That reader who loved
our plaid seeks to explain itself.
Love your plaid referred
to earlier: This little feller on the right, new, I believe, since
my return.
We've had that very same masthead, featuring the clay and mustard squares
up there on the right, since The Beginning of Time.
But we're glad you came back. From wherever you were. For so very long.
Blab. A reader takes a break.
Excuse me while I kiss the
sky. Muah!
Screws me while I
eat this fly.
Blab. One reader, prepared to challenge Nimoy orthodoxy, writes:
Spock
is a Hindu! (or possibly a green-blooded knight)
In a far-ranging and comprehensive treatment of the issue, we learn much.
The question may come up
as to whether the story of Sir Gawain, or whatever even-more-ancient-myth
gave rise to it, is nothing more than a fairy tale, or does it hike back
to the previous earthly cycle of spiritual development, when Atlantis flourished?
Had the Atlanteans - or some of them, at least - developed to the point
where they not only were intellectually aware of the illusory nature of
matter, but lived it as well?
That's hark, but hey - what wonderful and self-referential questions.
Meanwhile, this same reader, or its reincarnation as Vishnu, writes:
Spock's
a Christian!
Ah. This link is a bit too obscure, even for us. But we resolve,
for our Treasured Readers, its
mystic origins.
Welcome to remote outpost
Star Base 1505 which protects the neutral zone between the Tripodian Empire
and every other alien race.
Hallelujah.
Blab. A reader tries to tell the difference between fermentation
products and astronomical
objects. We try to treat our reader gently.
Do they eat Quorn on Quaoar?
Those Tripodians? They eat Quorn. How do we know? We aren't sure.
Blab. Yesterday, we predicted that Saddam
would use chemical or biological agents during the upcoming war, then try
to blame it on U.S. (or related) forces, and that various Arab folks would
believe Saddam's explanation. The usually more capable Ian opines:
My Bold Prediction (to follow
on from your Two Bold Predictions) is that he will be right.
[inw]
So you predict that U.S. (or related) forces will use chemical or biological
weapons in the upcoming war, and try to blame it on Saddam? Umkay.
We must admit (and perhaps we're growing old and staid here) that this
is beyond the bounds of even our elastic credulity.
Blab. A reader who has somehow gained access to our private workplace
writes:
I hope you like the little
gift I left you in your office...
We can only hope this wasn't from Him Who Leaves Little Gifts.
Blab. A reader who must be Ian
sends us an annoyingly blind ...
[link].
To wit:
IBM has quietly eliminated
a patent it received on a method for determining who gets to use the bathroom
next.
The dual fascination with patents and toilets was the giveaway.
This particular patent was not one of our personal innovations. Frighteningly,
however, we do know the authors. We even co-authored a (nother, less stupid)
patent with one of them.
Blab. A reader who has slept with Jerry Falwell announces:
I suspect that, unfortunately,
Jerry Falwell probably _is_ sincere and law-abiding...
This is not a glass-half-empty or glass-half-full kind of person. No. This
is a, My, what a nice glass kind of person.
Blab. A student of ancient Greek writes:
Lupus capram in alta rupe
stantem conspicatus, cur non, inquit, relinquis nuda illa et sterilia loca,
et huc descendis in herbidos campos, qui tibi laetum pabulum offerunt?
Cui respondit capra: mihi non est in animo, dulcia tutis praeponere.
Carpe dentum.
Blab. Another of the cabal that has our very private life under
constant surveillance writes:
Mmm, sounds good! Glad you
had fun :)
Have you no decency, sir?
Yo. We draw the attention of our readers who admire the utility
of duct tape to this:
Researchers say over-the-hardware-counter
duct tape is a more effective, less painful alternative to liquid nitrogen,
which is used to freeze warts.
And since we expect, for reasons inexplicable, a correlation between those
suffering from warts and those with duct tape handy, we confidently predict
...
Well, we're not sure what we predict.
Plurp. We saw an ad from British Petroleum tonight, on that analog
television-thing, suggesting that the U.S. reduce its dependence on foreign
oil.
Did we miss a memo or something?
Yak. From today's all-day meeting.
We don't think we're going
to be blowing up any sacred cows in the near term.
Thank goodness. We forgot our splatter shield today.
Yak. And, after the two-hour session we led at our all-day meeting.
Wow. I haven't take such
detailed notes since my epistemology class in college.
This struck us as odd for two reasons.
-
It was the first time, that we recall at least, that we have been compared
to a professor of epistemology.
-
Subsequent discussion in the room revolved around what the word epistemology
might mean, and whether there really was such a word.
Plop. For those of you counting your calories, you can cut down
on your arithmetic effort by counting them all in this one place: deep-fried
Twinkies.
Each Twinkie, at 160 calories
and five grams of fat a pop, is impaled on a stick and frozen until firm,
then dipped in a batter similar to that used to fry fish.
Deep frying adds more calories and
fat, and the powdered-sugar coating apparently complements the Twinkie's
altered state.
Not to mention the altered state of consumers.
Plop. Maui's Mauna Loa volcano seems to be stirring
up trouble again.
Mauna Loa is stirring after
18 years of inactivity, and an eruption could devastate the neighborhoods
built on the volcano's slopes in the intervening years, scientists warned
this week.
"We're at a stage where it's months
to years, rather than days to weeks," before the next eruption, Cervelli
said.
So for the very many people who have decided to build their homes on the
recent lava flows of Mauna Loa, we have this advice: buy Twinkies.
Yow.
Glockenspiel, charburger,
and Tony Orlando.
See? It's still
funny.
Plurp.
The blue dog
was the residue of
deep fried Twinkies, charburgers,
and Jerry Falwell
Monday, October 14, 2002
Blab. Perhaps holding forth on Leonard Nimoy's interest
in partially clad women with Jewish religious
symbols, a reader writes:
Like Pascal before him (and
we're very surprised that Spock hadn't read Pascal), the Vulcan neglected
to consider numerous possibilities: for instance there could be a God who
hates irrationality, and who carefully doesn't give us sufficient evidence
to justify belief in a god, and after death sends all those who irrationally
believed in a god anyway straight to Hell. Which sort of messes up the
"logical" computation...
We favor the theory that god requires us to eat sushi. We don't have any
rational evidence for this whatsoever, which puts us pretty much on equal
footing with all of those other major religions. And sushi is much
better than those little pasty wafers.
Blab. A reader pines for ...
more pitures
Well, how about more of that same piture from yesterday?
This particlar piture seems to have caused several of our readers to,
like, type things.
I thought Yoko Ono was Japanese.
And, in a similar vein:
But...but....I thought Yoko
was Japanese!
In fact, Yoko Ono was Japanese. She is currently Hungarian. Back
to the subject at hand, an insightful reader relates a parable.
There is a "Self Storage"
place near my home with neon proclamation of same on all four sides. Each
side has a different set of letters burnt out, and at night one particular
side advertises "Elf Rage."
I'll take the economy size, thanks.
Are you sure? It could have been a common case of elf
rage, after all.
But this parable is very clever. The restaurant whose sign is pitured
above is, in fact, named Go Noodle. And they make a pretty good
noodle and a not bad Peking duck (though their dumplings leave something
to be desired). A couple of months ago, their sign proclaimed that they
were Go No, which seemed odd to us, as they apparently plan to move
to a new location on a nearby corner.
But! What a marvelous art form this sign is. After they move, we think
they should lose that leading O.
Finally, a reader who sees through the irony and humor of the situation
inquires:
Was dinner nice?
In fact, it was great! We ate at a little French bistro across the street
from O No, quite an occasion in itself as we seem seldom to go out
to a real restaurant these days (though we are trying to reform our humdrum
ways). We had lemon sole; Helen had wild mushroom ravioli. Lots of bread
and butter and a country paté. Serious yummification.
And thanks for asking!
Blab. A reader reveals its uncomfortable linguistic compulsions.
Ugh. I hate it when
people say "prolly". Using "prolly" in place of "probably" cuts one's
IQ in half, in my eyes. Yeh, OK, so I'm being anal. It just
makes my skin crawl and I had to say something.
We agree with you, Treasured Reader. It's a disgusting, low-class bastardization
of an otherwise pristine language. Doncha think?
Blab. A reader wins a contest we never held.
I found the
baklava...
Congratulations! Next week: Find the Pope in the Pizza.
Blab. To our Plurp mail address (and you'll have to follow
this carefully) is sent the following invitation.
CALL FOR PAPERS AND PARTICIPATION
AT SSGRR CONFERENCES IN YEAR 2003
The SSGRR (Scuola Superiore G Reiss
Romoli) Congress Center, Telecom Italia Learning Services, L'Aquila (near
Rome), ITALY (www.ssgrr.it).
Respected Dr.
We are honored to invite you to submit
and present your paper(s) at the two SSGRR conferences specified below:
INTERNATIONAL CONFERENCES ON ADVANCES
IN INFRASTRUCTURE FOR ELECTRONIC BUSINESS, EDUCATION, SCIENCE, MEDICINE,
AND MOBILE TECHNOLOGIES ON THE INTERNET
[...]
What are we to make of an invitation, to a conference that appears to be
about pretty much everything, that is sent as spam? It appears to be a
real conference, in the sense of being planned and possibly held. But
what do you imagine it will be like? Do
tell.
Yak.
[...]
Don't you Plurp that!
But it's funny.
I don't want to be funny. I want
to be beautiful.
Plop. Jerry's
back.
The Rev. Jerry Falwell has
apologized for calling Islam's founder a terrorist, saying he "intended
no disrespect to any sincere, law-abiding Muslim."
Isn't that nice?
Plurp. So, when this tragically inevitable war against Iraq gets
going in a more obviously public way, and when Saddam uses chemical and
biological weapons against his attackers, what will he say? Yeah, we
whipped that up just last night? We don't think so.
Our first Bold Prediction O' The DayTM
is that he'll say, No we didn't. We didn't use those weapons of mass
destruction at all. The U.S. used them in a vile attempt to make Iraq appear
to be evil. We have no weapons of mass destruction.
And our second Bold Prediction O' The DayTM
is that a very large number of people in the Arab world will say, Yes,
he's right.
Plurp.
The blue dog
intended no disrespect to any
sincere, law-abiding
Jerry Falwell
Sunday, October 13, 2002
Plurp. Dinner out tonight.
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