A Three Hour Tor

TOR, otherwise known as The Onion Router, is a reasonably secure internet platform. When I say reasonably secure, I mean it's safe to route all of your traffic through it, but if you have incredibly sensitive information, you run a risk of being discovered. That aside, Snowden and Assange use it and the NSA is having trouble spying on it (but still manages). The safest way is to boot from and use the Tails operating system. The link has some good basic information on TOR. You can try it out with the TOR browser. Download the browser here. It's Firefox, so you already know how to use it. Give it a shot. Try not to install any extensions/addons because some of them leak information, rendering the browser unsafe.

• Over 460 models of HP laptops come complete with a keylogger. This means that every letter you type could be logged. Fortunately, this 'feature' is disabled by default. It exists in the touchpad driver. If anybody gets access to the computer, they can turn the keylogger on.

The FDA has approved a pill with an embedded sensor that can report when it is swallowed.  This is very interesting and, as I understand it, only one pill. Let's put on our Thermionic Tin Foil Hats.  Any invasive technology tends to come disguised as a benefit: 

• "Oh - we'll know if Gramma took her medicine!"
• "Stupid drug addict brother didn't take his methadone today."
• "Yes, as you know, Doctor, I took my meds, but I'm still hearing the voices. They do not like you."

The pill sends a signal to a patch, which sends the information to an app on your phone. You can send the results to a number of people if you like. How is this wrong? Let me count the ways...

• Bluetooth: hackable in the vicinity
• Sensor: is it really safe n your body? Do you really need it? 
• App: fitness apps and most others transmit information up the line to the software's author, advertising, and Google or Apple.
• No one really needs your information.

British television seems to consist largely of a bunch of overstuffed people sitting on an overstuffed couch, talking about nothing but using a lot of words to get there. No wonder they like some of our shows (Seinfeld).

• Over thirty email clients, including webmail, have a pretty serious flaw that will allow a Bad Guy to spoof the FROM address convincingly. Read this to see if yours is affected. Several were fixed before the flaw was announced.

In the 1980s, AT&T asked a consultant to estimate how many cell phones would be in use in the world by 2000. They concluded the total market would be 900,000 units. This persuaded AT&T to pull out of the market. By 2000, there were 738 million people with cellphone subscriptions. So close....

• a thirteenth human foot was found washed up on Canada's west coast. No one is sure why this happens but no foul play is suspected. No foul play? How many appendages, organs, and severed heads have to wash up before foul play is suspected? And what happened to the fourteenth foot? Isn't Canada supposed to be friendly? Does this sort of thing go on all the time in British Columbia?

Time grows near for the FCC's decision on whether to keep or jettison the Net Neutrality rules. While they haven't explicitly stated it, the FCC really doesn't care what you think and has no problem clinking drinks with Big Business. After having found millions of fake comments on the topic, the FCC is blocking any investigation into the comments, which, incredibly, were from dead people and were against neutrality. Nothing at all is suggested by this wild coincidence.

• A bunch of years ago I went to a guitar show with a Gibson Custom Shop display. I asked the guy if they had ever built any lefty doublenecks. He said he was aware of four, and at that date, they would cost about $5,000. Right handed, of course, was less. Today I finally located a Custom Shop lefty Doubleneck on Ebay, for the bargain price of $8,000. Ok, everything this shop sells is pretty damn expensive, plus shipping from Asia. I'm sure I can get it cheaper by ordering locally.
• I know, I know, you don't care. But Jimmy Page plays one.
• We got what we wanted most for the holidays: Marshall, alive. Because of this, we've had to cancel Christmas.
• But a new guitar (or three) sure would be nice. 

Gibson Custom Shop lefty EDS-1275

In Road Wars, a British COPS-like show, they pulled a car over, checked the trunk, and found 'herbal cannabis'. Herbal, pronouncing the 'H'. When I was young, I did my share of substances, but I am not aware of any variety other than herbal. Did they invent some sort of Imitation Cannabis? Why in the universe do they call it cannabis when 'Pot' is one syllable?

One day on COPS, an officer found "some sort of green, leafy substance; possibly cannabis." Do police recruit from just one pool? Has someone been peeing in it again?

• A Harvard student recently made a bold public declaration, admitting that, while at a bar with friends one time, he talked about the attractiveness of the women in his class. What a brave man. If anybody overheard him, he'd be publicly lynched.

Researchers, which is a term for anyone having more than one account on a website, have estimated that up to one percent of sites on the web have been hacked. For those of us who like math (and I know no one who meets this description) that's about 10 in 1,000 of the most visited websites. This statistic proves nobody is above or immune to hacking, and you will probably visit one of these sites, if not the entire one percent.

• I have seen into the future. Come next June, a newspaper headline will read "America Saves Millions as Half of Congress Arrested for Pedophilia"

Rip My Face Off. Please.

A short time ago, the wife looked at me and asked what I thought about a beard.  I told her that it probably wouldn't look too good on her at this time.

After we got that straightened out, she explained that she thought it would look good on me and, equally important, would work well with my intense dislike of shaving.  I'm one of those guys who has baby smooth, highly sensitive skin.  It's irritable, like me, making shaving a real task.

So I went with it.  I knew that, sooner or later, I'd started the Dreaded Itch.  The Itch of Death<tm>.  A solid week in, I did not itch.  But I knew it was imminent.

A few days later it hit.  And when I say hit, I mean I wanted to shred my own skin and scratch my face with a concrete block.  My wife, ever helpful, suggested a number of skin care products, the best of which stopped the Itch of Death<tm> for up to five whole minutes.  I even tried hair conditioner in the shower, to no avail.

Then I did what all red-blooded citizens do - I went online.  I located a number of sites with helpful and largely not-so-helpful suggestions.  `Man up and deal with it for the magnificence of a beard' was often repeated and the least helpful of the bunch by far.    What do you mean it only lasts a week?

Shortly thereafter, I tried conditioner again and it worked.  Sort of.  I continue to monitor the situation because if I have to deal with this much longer, I might as well shave.  Meanwhile I'm getting all sorts of comments about the new, rugged, outdoorsy lefty.  Yes, that's me, the new, rugged, outdoorsy lefty, from the Great Indoors.

My dad said he didn't dislike it, which is odd, given that he's not fond of double negatives.  Mom liked it too (because she has to) and my boss took about two weeks to figure it out (and I sit right next to him).  It's ok, he has other things on his mind (and let's be honest, I don't need his comments to make my life complete).

So I have a beard.  And a communique from the Big Boss, sent to everyone via email.  Unfortunately I am unable to discern its meaning.  After asking around a bit, it would seem I am not the only one who cannot decipher the missive.  It is written in thirty point type across seven pages, with each paragraph taking approximately its own page.

Most people would say I'm not stupid, so it kinda smarts that I don't have the smarts to decode the Boss' email.  Our local scholars ascertained that all of the words are current English and have decent sentence structure.  On the whole it appears to be in English that anyone could understand, only no one can.  This led to rampant joking about the Big Boss having a taste for cannabis.

For the sake of science (and sociology), a coworker is going to do an experiment.  At her husband's next social gathering, where much cannabis will no doubt be consumed, she is going to print out the email and see if any of the Muddled Masses are able to understand or translate.  This should tell us, for better or worse, the alleged state of the Big Boss.

If the experiment proves positive, either the Big Boss will have to compose while straight or get a medical marijuana waiver for the entire corporation so we can understand his writing.