Amazon e-mailed me with a list of things they think I might like. It’s kind of them, but what they think I might like is a whole bunch of internal hard disk drive mounting harnesses. I admit I got such a harness, but it was from the CompUSA in Latham, New York, near the Hannaford supermarket, back in 1998, so I don’t know why they figure it’s due for a lot of replacement right now. I don’t know what Amazon’s highly-trained algorithms have detected is coming for me really soon now that I need at least five harnesses from 2.5 to 3.5 inches but I guess I should do the rational thing and order at least four of them. I imagine I can take the unused ones and, I don’t know, fry them up with some sauerkraut and Kosciusko mustard? It must make sense.
Tag: spam
Okay, I Guess Maybe There Are Reasons To Stick Around
I was unsubscribing from e-mails, mostly places that want me to donate to political figures because we’re facing a catastrophic defeat and on the brink of a triumphant victory sixteen times a day even now. And one tried to tease me back in by offering this heap of subjects they’d still like to contact me about:
My assumption is that most of these are procedurally generated subject lines, hoping that I’ll stick around and ask what the heck a “Recent Ad Names Surp” is. I thought it was something about syrup at first glance. Some things, you know?
Share this:
MiSTed: A Moment of Hack (Part 2 of 2)
You’ve all gotten this e-mail, and it proved its credentials by showing you a password you used back in 2006 and, uh, until about a week ago too. Still, let’s continue turning it into Mystery Science Theater 3000 fan fiction, shall we?
The bitcoin address is munged, of course; even if it was valid I don’t want people supporting this nonsense by accident. I tossed in a reference to “automobile titles” as an example of adult content, not knowing that my whole autumn 2021 would be taken over — against stiff emotion-wracking competition — by how I can’t find the title for my 2009 Scion tC. Serious talk here, kids: get your automobile title, or a duplicate, and put it somewhere you can lay hands on without ransacking the house.
“Swiss-style match pairing” is a way of organizing a tournament where it’s not possible for every participant to play every other participant. Each round sets out trying to get everyone playing someone with a roughly similar record in the tournament that they haven’t played already. (If there’s enough rounds, this does turn into “everyone plays everyone else”.) The “an educated consumer is our best customer” was the longrunning advertising slogan for SYMS, a New York City-area discount clothiers chain. I still haven’t seen any of the Jonah episodes of MST3K.
>
> Oh, yes .. I’m know your secret life, which you are hiding from
> everyone.
CROW: The weed of crime bears bitter fruit!
>
> Oh my God, what are your like… I saw THIS …
TOM: With a Hubbard squash?
MIKE: In the library?
CROW: On Professor Plum?
> Oh, you dirty
> naughty person … : )
MIKE: [ As Elmer Fudd ] ‘I’m just as God made me, sir …. hehehehehehehehe.’
>
>
> I took photos and videos of your most passionate funs with adult
> content,
TOM: Not my adult content! My automobile titles, my disclosure paperworks from the Dental Maintenance Organization. Ream after ream of cadastral maps for the properties I bought at the tax sale!
MIKE: Jeez, all *my* adult content is sad little grunts of pain after I kneel down and stand up again.
> and synchronized them in real time with the image of your
> camera.
MIKE: Who cares about images of my camera?
[ CROW and TOM hide down in their chairs. ]
>
> Believe it turned out very high quality!
CROW: Sing the unwashed park bench gryphon!
>
>
> So, to the business!
MIKE: [ As Adam West ] To the business-pole, old chum!
>
> I’m sure you don’t want to show these files and visiting history to
> all your contacts.
TOM: *Including* that person at hotels.com that dealt with your weird duplicate-loyalty-card nonsense.
>
>> Transfer $848 to my Bitcoin cryptocurrency wallet:
[ CROW just bursts out laughing ]
> 1GXazHVQxxUdJpe62UFozFibPlor8ToDoUn3
[ CROW continues giggling ]
MIKE: Foz Fib Plor?
TOM: I’m trying to figure this as like a Fozzie Bear branded Mister Pibb but it’s not coming together.
>
> Just copy and paste the wallet number when transferring.
TOM: It’s totally not the SimCity 2000 funding cheat code!
CROW: [ Still giggling ]
MIKE: You okay, buddy?
>
CROW: Yeah, I just, I mean, 848 dollars?
> If you do not know how to do this – ask Google.
MIKE: Well, he was going to demand $849 but figured, why be greedy?
>
TOM: I heard he was looking for $847.74 but rounded up the dollar to donate to the local food bank.
CROW: Oh, well that’s good of him, then.
>
> My system automatically recognizes the translation.
MIKE: ‘Translate from Latvian’? The heck?
>
> As soon as the specified amount is received, all your data will be
> destroyed from my server,
TOM: ‘Because I’m dealing with this annoying ransomware hacker myself.’
> and the rootkit will be automatically
> removed from your system.
CROW: Thanks to my self-propelled technogarden trowel!
>
> Do not worry, I really will delete everything,
MIKE: [ Warbly teenager voice ] E-e-everything?
TOM: ‘Well, not your DVR. That you have to watch on your own.’
> since I am ‘working’
> with many people who have fallen into your position.
CROW: Yeah, well, *I’m* taking pictures of you doing that on *your* web cam, how does *that* feel?
>
> You will only have to inform your provider about the vulnerabilities
> in the router so that other hackers will not use it.
MIKE: [ Extremely nerdy ] You know, even the most secure routers are vulnerable to a proton torpedo hitting their thermal exhaust port through a shaft right to the reactor system.
>
>
> Since opening this letter you have 48 hours.
CROW: 49, if it’s Daylight Saving Time.
>
> If funds not will be received, after the specified time has elapsed,
TOM: I’ll take $582.50 in bitcoin instead?
MIKE: How about $146 in dogecoin?
CROW: Would you believe what’s left on a $20 Borders gift card and a 50-pfennig coin I got going to Oberammergau in 1990?
> the disk of your device will be formatted,
MIKE: The format: Swiss-style match pairing, ten rounds or until 10:00.
>
> and from my server will automatically send email and sms
TOM: Oh, I don’t need all those sms, just send me one sm.
CROW: With sms an educated consumer is our best customer.
> to all your
> contacts with compromising material.
MIKE: It’s not ‘compromising’, it’s ‘seeking a pragmatic, centrist solution’!
TOM: Bad praxis, Mike.
>
>
> I advise you to remain prudent
CROW: When you’re prudent, you make a prune out of dents.
[ MIKE sets a hand on CROW’s shoulder. ]
> and not engage in nonsense (all files
> on my server).
MIKE: And all the ships at sea! Flash!
>
>
> Good luck!
TOM: If Woody had gone right to the police, this would never have happened.
MIKE: C’mon, let’s blow this popsicle stand.
[ ALL file out. ]
|
\ | /
\ | /
\|/
----O----
/|\
/ | \
/ | \
|
Mystery Science Theater 3000 and its characters and setup and situations and all are the property of … I guess it’s Satellite of Love LLC? I’m not sure anymore. The original spam was sent to my love’s work e-mail account so certain elements were modified so my love’s IT department didn’t get all cranky. It’s not a Jonah script because I still haven’t seen the Netflix series and while I started writing MiSTings after watching very few Joel and Mike episodes, ‘a few’ is still more than ‘literally zero’. Anyway, thanks for reading and let’s all have some hard funs, won’t we?
> I know what you like hard funs (adult sites).
Share this:
MiSTed: A Moment of Hack (Part 1 of 2)
I have this logged in a folder marked “recently used MiSTings”, as I first published it here back in April 2020. But consider how long ago that was: back then, we were trying to end the Covid-19 pandemic. So, since the resource I thought had some older vintage MiSTings was less accessible than I thought, please, enjoy this bit, originally written in 2018, making fun of that guy who totally hacked your account and has the proof.
The only riff that really needs context here is that in 2018, we thought 2018 was a brutal year.
MiSTed: You password must be need changed (your password:group2) [ 0 / 1 ]
[ THEATER. ALL file in. ]
> From: <group2@site.tld>
CROW: I love group2@site.tld’s writing!
> Subject: You password must be need changed (your password:group2)
TOM: Remember, you promised you’d walk and feed *and* change your password when we got you one!
> Date: November 15, 2018 at 4:36:12 PM EST
> To: group2 <group2@site.tld>
CROW: Group 2 is the cool group. We don’t need those Group 6 wieners.
>
>
> Dear user of site.tld!
MIKE: Hi! Been a crazy year, hasn’t it? So what’ve you been up to?
>
>
> I am a spyware software developer.
TOM: Well I’m a level-12 half-orc mage so don’t you go trying to beat my initiative roll.
>
> Your account has been hacked by me in the summer of 2018.
CROW: Man, you wanna feel old? The summer of 2018 was *this* *year*.
>
>
>
> I understand that it is hard to believe,
MIKE: But I can flare each nostril separately from the other!
> but here is my evidence:
TOM: [ Fumbling, feeble voice ] Um, heh, sorry, thought I had the thingy plugged in … uh … heh, see, it’s a mini USB … or micro … uh, heheh … maybe it’s upside-dowooops, dropped it.
>
> – I sent you this email from your account.
MIKE: It’s asking you to celebrate someone’s ‘work anniversary’ on LinkedIn for some reason?
>
> – Password from account group2@site.tld: group2 (on moment of hack).
TOM: Prices higher west of the Rocky Mountains.
>
>
>
> The hacking was carried out using a hardware vulnerability through
> which you went online
CROW: Yeah? Well I only respond to emotional vulnerability.
> (Cisco router, vulnerability CVE-2018-0296).
MIKE: [ Military Nerd voice ] Excuse me but the CVE-2018-0296 is the USS Ranger, a Forrestal-class supercarrier with a displacement of 81,000 long tons under full load *thank* you.
>
>
>
> I went around the security system in the router,
CROW: I jabbed my foot into an endtable.
> installed an
> exploit there.
TOM: Stepped on a Lego block … you know, your security is pretty *good*, I have to say.
>
> When you went online, my exploit downloaded my malicious code
MIKE: Well, it’s not malicious so much as it is passive-aggressive code.
CROW: ‘No, go ahead and read my page with the adblocker on, I’ll be fine.’
> (rootkit) to your device.
TOM: Hey, we’re trying to stay PG here!
>
> This is driver software,
CROW: This is driver software on drugs.
> I constantly updated it,
MIKE: The only way to foil it is to hit ‘postpone updates until tomorrow’ every single day!
> so your antivirus
> is silent all time.
TOM: Your Antivirus Silent All-time Hall of Famers!
>
>
> Since then I have been following you
CROW: Did you see me clicking like and share?
> (I can connect to your device
> via the VNC protocol).
MIKE: The VNC Protocol, starring Clint Eastwood, George Kennedy, and Vonetta McGee.
>
> That is, I can see absolutely everything that you do, view and
> download your files and any data to yourself.
TOM: [ Voice warbling ] Even my Knuckles/Marrissa Picard fanfic?
>
> I also have access to the camera on your device,
[ CROW and TOM squirm, uncomfortable. MIKE looks up so as not to have to acknowledge either. ]
> and I periodically
> take photos and videos with you.
MIKE: [ As though reading a postcard ] Having wonderful time, wish I were here …
>
>
> At the moment, I have harvested a solid dirt…
TOM: [ Dramatic sting ] DUN-dun-dunnnnnnnn!
> on you…
CROW: Gasp!
MIKE: Merciful heavens!
TOM: Oh, Professor Firefly!
>
> I saved all your email and chats from your messangers.
MIKE: Your mess angers.
TOM: Your Me’s Sangers.
> I also saved
> the entire history of the sites you visit.
TOM: You ah, got any copies of Web Site Number Nine kicking around there?
>
>
CROW: Your Mess an’ Gers?
MIKE: Oh, you always want a plate of those if you go to a British pub.
> I note that it is useless to change the passwords.
TOM: [ As Chico ] ‘Swordfish’?
> My malware update
> passwords from your accounts every times.
CROW: Yeah? Well … my festive clockwork bubbles from your kneepads every thermostat!
>
>
> I know what you like hard funs (adult sites).
TOM: Ooh, hard funs?
MIKE: Yeah, those are the anise-tasting funs your gramma keeps in that glass dish on the coffee table that still smells like smoke even though she quit eighteen years ago.
[ TOM makes a little disappointed groan. ]
[ To continue … ]
Share this:
MiSTed: A Moment of Hack, Part II
Part I ran on Monday. Thanks for reading.
>
> Oh, yes .. I’m know your secret life, which you are hiding from
> everyone.
CROW: The weed of crime bears bitter fruit!
>
> Oh my God, what are your like… I saw THIS …
TOM: With a Hubbard squash?
MIKE: In the library?
CROW: On Professor Plum?
> Oh, you dirty
> naughty person … :)
MIKE: [ As Elmer Fudd ] ‘I’m just as God made me, sir …. hehehehehehehehe.’
>
>
> I took photos and videos of your most passionate funs with adult
> content,
TOM: Not my adult content! My automobile titles, my disclosure paperworks from the Dental Maintenance Organization. Ream after ream of cadastral maps for the properties I bought at the tax sale!
MIKE: Jeez, all *my* adult content is sad little grunts of pain after I kneel down and stand up again.
> and synchronized them in real time with the image of your
> camera.
MIKE: Who cares about images of my camera?
[ CROW and TOM hide down in their chairs. ]
>
> Believe it turned out very high quality!
CROW: Sing the unwashed park bench gryphon!
>
>
> So, to the business!
MIKE: [ As Adam West ] To the business-pole, old chum!
>
> I’m sure you don’t want to show these files and visiting history to
> all your contacts.
TOM: *Including* that person at hotels.com that dealt with your weird duplicate-loyalty-card nonsense.
>
>
> Transfer $848 to my Bitcoin cryptocurrency wallet:
[ CROW just bursts out laughing ]
> 1GXazHVQxxUdJpe62UFozFibPlor8ToDoUn3
[ CROW continues giggling ]
MIKE: Foz Fib Plor?
TOM: I’m trying to figure this as like a Fozzie Bear branded Mister Pibb but it’s not coming together.
>
> Just copy and paste the wallet number when transferring.
TOM: It’s totally not the SimCity 2000 funding cheat code!
CROW: [ Still giggling ]
MIKE: You okay, buddy?
>
CROW: Yeah, I just, I mean, 848 dollars?
> If you do not know how to do this – ask Google.
MIKE: Well, he was going to demand $849 but figured, why be greedy?
>
TOM: I heard he was looking for $847.74 but rounded up the dollar to donate to the local food bank.
CROW: Oh, well that’s good of him, then.
>
> My system automatically recognizes the translation.
MIKE: ‘Translate from Latvian’? The heck?
>
> As soon as the specified amount is received, all your data will be
> destroyed from my server,
TOM: ‘Because I’m dealing with this annoying ransomware hacker myself.’
> and the rootkit will be automatically
> removed from your system.
CROW: Thanks to my self-propelled technogarden trowel!
>
> Do not worry, I really will delete everything,
MIKE: [ Warbly teenager voice ] E-e-everything?
TOM: ‘Well, not your DVR. That you have to watch on your own.’
> since I am ‘working’
> with many people who have fallen into your position.
CROW: Yeah, well, *I’m* taking pictures of you doing that on *your* web cam, how does *that* feel?
>
> You will only have to inform your provider about the vulnerabilities
> in the router so that other hackers will not use it.
MIKE: [ Extremely nerdy ] You know, even the most secure routers are vulnerable to a proton torpedo hitting their thermal exhaust port through a shaft right to the reactor system.
>
>
> Since opening this letter you have 48 hours.
CROW: 49, if it’s Daylight Saving Time.
>
> If funds not will be received, after the specified time has elapsed,
TOM: I’ll take $582.50 in bitcoin instead?
MIKE: How about $146 in dogecoin?
CROW: Would you believe what’s left on a $20 Borders gift card and a 50-pfennig coin I got going to Oberammergau in 1990?
> the disk of your device will be formatted,
MIKE: The format: Swiss-style match pairing, ten rounds or until 10:00.
>
> and from my server will automatically send email and sms
TOM: Oh, I don’t need all those sms, just send me one sm.
CROW: With sms an educated consumer is our best customer.
> to all your
> contacts with compromising material.
MIKE: It’s not ‘compromising’, it’s ‘seeking a pragmatic, centrist solution’!
TOM: Bad praxis, Mike.
>
>
> I advise you to remain prudent
CROW: When you’re prudent, you make a prune out of dents.
[ MIKE sets a hand on CROW’s shoulder. ]
> and not engage in nonsense (all files
> on my server).
MIKE: And all the ships at sea! Flash!
>
>
> Good luck!
TOM: If Woody had gone right to the police, this would never have happened.
MIKE: C’mon, let’s blow this popsicle stand.
[ ALL file out. ]
|
\ | /
\ | /
\|/
----O----
/|\
/ | \
/ | \
|
Mystery Science Theater 3000 and its characters and setup and situations and all are the property of … I guess it’s Satellite of Love LLC? I’m not sure anymore. The original spam was sent to my love’s work e-mail account so certain elements were modified so my love’s IT department didn’t get all cranky. It’s not a Jonah script because I still haven’t seen the Netflix series and while I started writing MiSTings after watching very few Joel and Mike episodes, ‘a few’ is still more than ‘literally zero’. Anyway, thanks for reading and let’s all have some hard funs, won’t we?
> I know what you like hard funs (adult sites).
Share this:
MiSTed: A Moment of Hack, Part I
You got this e-mail. The one about how your account was hacked, with the proof being a password you used for the account you made on TeaTowelsOnline.com in 2004. We all did. But me? I decided to do something completely useless about it: I turned it into Mystery Science Theater 3000 fan fiction, back in 2018. Please, enjoy, as I finally use this to buy me a couple days’ lead time on my blog-writing here.
MiSTed: You password must be need changed (your password:group2) [ 0 / 1 ]
[ THEATER. ALL file in. ]
> From: <group2@site.tld>
CROW: I love group2@site.tld’s writing!
> Subject: You password must be need changed (your password:group2)
TOM: Remember, you promised you’d walk and feed *and* change your password when we got you one!
> Date: November 15, 2018 at 4:36:12 PM EST
> To: group2 <group2@site.tld>
CROW: Group 2 is the cool group. We don’t need those Group 6 wieners.
>
>
> Dear user of site.tld!
MIKE: Hi! Been a crazy year, hasn’t it? So what’ve you been up to?
>
>
> I am a spyware software developer.
TOM: Well I’m a level-12 half-orc mage so don’t you go trying to beat my initiative roll.
>
> Your account has been hacked by me in the summer of 2018.
CROW: Man, you wanna feel old? The summer of 2018 was *this* *year*.
>
>
>
> I understand that it is hard to believe,
MIKE: But I can flare each nostril separately from the other!
> but here is my evidence:
TOM: [ Fumbling, feeble voice ] Um, heh, sorry, thought I had the thingy plugged in … uh … heh, see, it’s a mini USB … or micro … uh, heheh … maybe it’s upside-dowooops, dropped it.
>
> – I sent you this email from your account.
MIKE: It’s asking you to celebrate someone’s ‘work anniversary’ on LinkedIn for some reason?
>
> – Password from account group2@site.tld: group2 (on moment of hack).
TOM: Prices higher west of the Rocky Mountains.
>
>
>
> The hacking was carried out using a hardware vulnerability through
> which you went online
CROW: Yeah? Well I only respond to emotional vulnerability.
> (Cisco router, vulnerability CVE-2018-0296).
MIKE: [ Military Nerd voice ] Excuse me but the CVE-2018-0296 is the USS Ranger, a Forrestal-class supercarrier with a displacement of 81,000 long tons under full load *thank* you.
>
>
>
> I went around the security system in the router,
CROW: I jabbed my foot into an endtable.
> installed an
> exploit there.
TOM: Stepped on a Lego block … you know, your security is pretty *good*, I have to say.
>
> When you went online, my exploit downloaded my malicious code
MIKE: Well, it’s not malicious so much as it is passive-aggressive code.
CROW: ‘No, go ahead and read my page with the adblocker on, I’ll be fine.’
> (rootkit) to your device.
TOM: Hey, we’re trying to stay PG here!
>
> This is driver software,
CROW: This is driver software on drugs.
> I constantly updated it,
MIKE: The only way to foil it is to hit ‘postpone updates until tomorrow’ every single day!
> so your antivirus
> is silent all time.
TOM: Your Antivirus Silent All-time Hall of Famers!
>
>
> Since then I have been following you
CROW: Did you see me clicking like and share?
> (I can connect to your device
> via the VNC protocol).
MIKE: The VNC Protocol, starring Clint Eastwood, George Kennedy, and Vonetta McGee.
>
> That is, I can see absolutely everything that you do, view and
> download your files and any data to yourself.
TOM: [ Voice warbling ] Even my Knuckles/Marrissa Picard fanfic?
>
> I also have access to the camera on your device,
[ CROW and TOM squirm, uncomfortable. MIKE looks up so as not to have to acknowledge either. ]
> and I periodically
> take photos and videos with you.
MIKE: [ As though reading a postcard ] Having wonderful time, wish I were here …
>
>
> At the moment, I have harvested a solid dirt…
TOM: [ Dramatic sting ] DUN-dun-dunnnnnnnn!
> on you…
CROW: Gasp!
MIKE: Merciful heavens!
TOM: Oh, Professor Firefly!
>
> I saved all your email and chats from your messangers.
MIKE: Your mess angers.
TOM: Your Me’s Sangers.
> I also saved
> the entire history of the sites you visit.
TOM: You ah, got any copies of Web Site Number Nine kicking around there?
>
>
CROW: Your Mess an’ Gers?
MIKE: Oh, you always want a plate of those if you go to a British pub.
> I note that it is useless to change the passwords.
TOM: [ As Chico ] ‘Swordfish’?
> My malware update
> passwords from your accounts every times.
CROW: Yeah? Well … my festive clockwork bubbles from your kneepads every thermostat!
>
>
> I know what you like hard funs (adult sites).
TOM: Ooh, hard funs?
MIKE: Yeah, those are the anise-tasting funs your gramma keeps in that glass dish on the coffee table that still smells like smoke even though she quit eighteen years ago.
[ TOM makes a little disappointed groan. ]
And that’s enough lumped text for just now. Web Site Number Nine was, in the 90s and early 2000s, the center of MST3K fan fiction. It went down “for the weekend” for maintenance one Friday in like 2004 and never reappeared afterwards. Boy, remember when 2018 seemed like a brutal year? Anyway, I’ll finish posting this on Wednesday. Thanks for reading.
Share this:
Emotional Drafting
A little bit before we got our stay-at-home orders I bought some pencil leads. You know, for mechanical pencils. I don’t say this to make you all envious. I know there are people out there who don’t use mechanical pencils. I prefer mechanical pencils and I won’t be apologizing for that. Yes, I have tried your fully pneumatic pencils. I don’t like the flow. Electronic pencils would be great, but they’re monitoring everything you do. And they’re sending mean notes to Facebook about your bad handwriting and how it’s ruining your wrists.
So mechanical pencils it is for me, and that means sometimes buying new leads. This is because putting in a new lead is two percent less bad than buying a whole new pen and throwing the old away. It should be a bigger gap. There’s mechanical pencils where you put the new lead in by pressing down the little cap thingy on the end and dropping a new lead in. I don’t have that. The pencils I have these days require me to take the end cap off, then remember that’s not how to reload these pencils. Then I have to unscrew the … I’m going to call it nib … from the center of the pencil. Then press down on the cap until I remember that’s not how to open it up to take a new lead either. Then I have to look up on YouTube how to put lead into my pencil, and follow that video. I might be better off throwing the old pencils away and getting a new one, but again, there’s that two percent margin. It’s a tiny bit less bad to buy a new lead.
Except. I bought this at an Office Depot. Or Office Max. I forget what it was before they merged (it was Kinko’s) and moved from one end of the strip mall to the other. The problem is, this got them e-mailing me to give my opinions about the transaction.
This is a heck of a thing to ask for in any case. What is there to rate? I go in to a store that sells pencil leads, pick up a pack of pencil leads, and pay for it, and leave. How can I rate that? Plato himself would volunteer that there is no such thing as an Ideal Form of the pencil-lead-buying experience. There is no way to perceive the difference between a mediocre pencil-lead-buying experience and the greatest pencil-lead-buying experience of your life. I guess this does mean we can treat every chance to buy pencil lead as a new chance to have a best-possible experience, so far as we know.
I concede there can be a terrible pencil-lead-buying experience. But that’s because something interferes with the pencil-lead-buying. Like, while you’re there a ceiling tile drops on you. Or you can’t remember which phone number you gave for their loyalty program and then someone insists you are too John “Ten Eyck” Lansing Jr, the indirect namesake for the capital of Michigan (Ten Eyck), who went missing in 1829. That would ruin the pencil-lead-buying. That’s the result of the other experience getting in the way, though.
Anyway I figured to ignore Max Depot’s e-mails until they gave up asking. The way Best Buy has finally accepted that I have no opinions to share about a four-USB-plug power brick. Except that they would not give up. They e-mailed me daily, asking me to please tell them about the pencil-lead-buying experience.
They sent me more e-mails than Joe Biden’s campaign has, if you can imagine, now that Biden bought whatever cursed mailing list Amy Klobuchar had. And this as the pandemic kept on panning. So I gave in and answered them. No, I would not recommend buying pencil lead at Depot to the Max, because they keep asking me to have an opinion about it, and I keep remembering how if everything starts going well, the pandemic might only kill as many Americans as combat did in the Civil War, and I have to go to the basement and yell at cinder blocks.
They e-mailed back.
And apologized that my experience was so bad and they will work to make it better in the future.
So now management dinks are going to punish people who actually work, because I said the buying was fine but the follow-up sucked. And I have to deal with knowing I’m to blame for that.
So now I can’t ever buy pencil lead at Max Office, Max Depot ever again. It’s going to hurt too much. I have, finally, found what a bad pencil-lead-buying experience is.
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Third Sentences Of Spams
The following paragraph is composed of the third sentences of spam posts blocked by whatever it is does the WordPress spam filtering around here. I leave out some stuff about search engines because that’s just way too boring.
Reading through this article reminds me of my previous roommate! Special construction and shaft sealing devices are available for blower service requiring zero or minimal gas leakage into and out of casing. It is the little changes that will make the largest changes. Furthermore, we appreciate your coming to Miami and encouraging me to better fully grasp baking skills. I’ve a presentation next week, and I am at the look for such information.
Even though this person does not exist, it really does make you feel like you know the guy. I appreciate that he’s upfront about his interest in shaft sealing devices, which are certain to come in useful in his Miami baking presentation.
Boy, I hope my post doesn’t get blocked by WordPress’s spam filters. I am at the look for developments!
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Rescued From The Spam Bin
I do sometimes remember to check the WordPress spam filters. It’s good practice, because there’s no telling how many people who’re expert Search Engine Optimization specialists are looking to help me out. One that hit me recently, though, was:
I’ll immediately clutch your rss as I can’t in finding your email
subscription link or newsletter service.i try to load the pages using the web browser SEWERLUST 53
Now, I know this is spam, because, really, “clutch your rss”? I have an automatic RSS because who has manual? People who figure it isn’t easy enough, that’s who.
But I am intrigued by this talk of the web browser SEWERLUST 53. Particularly, what was wrong in SEWERLUST 52 that they had to do a complete rewrite? Or is it like Firefox where they download a new major-version number every time someone involved thinks of an even bigger number? There’s no way to say, which is to say, I’m not going to say. If you’d like to say, please do. We might say something.
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Cheese, Spam, Poetry
I’ve only ever committed a few acts of poetry. Mostly they’ve been things written part-jokingly. This way I could run them in the unread left-wing student newspaper back at college in the “Ebb and Flow” literary section but could fall back in a bit of cowardice and claim I meant it for the Humor section (“about herring…”) instead. But my spammers are not so inhibited. Here’s one of their recent masterpieces:
Now I am ready to do my breakfast,
once having my breakfast coming yet
again to read additional news.
But maybe I’m just a sucker for any suggestion that events that are about to happen already happened and might just be happening again if I don’t miss them.
Also, I see in my notes the phrase “time cheese”. I do not remember at this point if it was a spam or funny search term, or if it was notes from a dream, or if I had ambitions of writing something particular about it. All I know is the idea is there, and some cheese-eating organism might be attempting to disrupt the normal flow of time from past to future. I’ll let you know if any cheese is had for breakfast in the past.
(Those were the actual section names for the creative-writing/photography section and the humor section, though the humor section’s name changed with each new editor. So now you know exactly how earnest a newspaper The Rutgers Review was in my day. When I finally was made editor of the humor section I named it “Humor”, because I felt like trying to be funny about the section name encouraged the reader to challenge whether this was in fact funny even before our blistering jokes about the campus bus system or the broken computers in the Roost. So now you know exactly what kind of person I am. Also I never actually got anything into “about herring…”, though I did better under other editors.)
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My favorite spam comment of the week
I love the melody of this spam-produced comment and thought you might too.
Wow, this paragraph is fastidious, my sister is analyzing these things, therefore I am going to let know her.
I’m flattered to think I could get a fastidious paragraph going. I only regret that it could not also be lugubrious. I’m not sure what lugubrious means (I don’t think it means anything) but I’ve loved the word ever since getting it as a vocabulary word in English class.
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Pants Check
Sometimes I even remember to check the “suspect” comments WordPress catches because they can’t figure whether it’s a legitimate comment or not and want me to approve it. Here’s one that delighted me:
they’re already imitation pants
You can see why WordPress’s software wasn’t sure about the comment, since I think we all have at least three people among our friends who’re here to warn us about their being imitation pants already, as opposed to when we had expected on the original time-table for their imitation pants status to be fully completed. And yet I’m sincerely grateful that WordPress didn’t just junk the comment on its own, because … well, goodness, who wouldn’t want to get that warning directly, even if it is just meant to sell me something which I assume to be a device which identifies what people around me are actually imitation pants.
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But Inside Pfizer …
Now I’ve got to wondering: how do the employees inside Pfizer e-mail their co-workers in the division that makes Viagra? Maybe it’s one of those things where they substitute a code word, like “Nigerian Prince” or “green card” or something at least until the IT department finds out about it. Or maybe it’s one of those self-correcting problems since as I understand it nobody uses e-mail anymore except people being pompous and students making incompetent pleas for higher grades (“Hey, Proffy, if you don’t count the thirteen classes I missed I had perfect attendance and it’d really help my GPA if I got at least a B+ in the course so can you bump me up from that D a little thanks!”), and people in the modern fast-paced economy of today just instant message or text or, if need be, stop in to see someone and make grunting noises while holding a rock in a threatening manner.
I guess I also wonder how those people who do high finance stuff e-mail partners about deals where they could make a huge profit without having to do much, but they probably have gold-plated e-mail programs or something like that which are smarter than ours.
Another Blog, Meanwhile 