| RANDOM QUOTE | I have 2 rare photographs. One is Houdini locking his keys in his car. The other is Norman Rockwell beating up a child.
-Stephen Wright | |
| |
| |
| | |
| |
|
| glitch13.com :.::.: ..:.::. :.:::...
Home | About | Feedback | Archive | RSS
| VIRUS |  | Category: Tech
Thursday, March 25th, 2004 @ 03:59 pm
|
 Quite often in my work (and occasionally my social life) I have to deal with computer viruses. Figure out what machines have them, where they're coming from, how to staunch the infection, and how to clean the machines. I hate it. I can't stand getting phone calls about them. I can't stand trying to explain to rubes from all over the country the nature of viruses and that just because it says its coming from a certain account, you can be almost 100% certain that its a spoofed email address. Then I have to explain address spoofing, but it doesn't matter because they didn't understand the first part so further explanation is pointless.
The funny thing is, I wouldn't mind it all that much if I ever had needed to do any of this for myself. I have never EVER gotten one of these retarded viruses. They're hardly even viruses. If you remember the world of computers in the late 80's and early 90's, chances are you'd remember what real viruses were like. Compared to the viruses of old, the viruses of today are akin to a knife laying on a street corner with a sign pointed at it that says "Stab yourself in the eye with this." I have no earthly idea how people keep getting infected with these things.
You see, viruses of old were innovative. None of them were Word documents, hardly any of them were executable, in fact, the majority of them weren't even files. They were phantom bits of machine code, hidden on disks and harddrives. If you put an infected floppy disk in your drive and accessed it, bam, you had a virus. There was no copying files or running executables. You couldn't see them, or delete them, or even tell they were there.
Take the Ripper virus Foo had once. It had the lovely side effect of randomly changing characters of text files every time you saved them. Kinda funny, eh? Really funny when the computer that's infected is the computer that contains the source code to the video game you being paid to write. Then he went on to give this virus to all of Texas, but that's another, much more funny story.
In closing, don't open any fucking email attachments, retards. And if you need to be told that, you also might need to be told to stop sticking you dicks in light sockets too. Unless you're standing in a puddle of water.
|
| THE BOTTOM LINE |  | Category: Personal
Thursday, March 11th, 2004 @ 11:29 am
|
I sit here, making exponentially more than I did say, five years ago, looking the $7.95 I have left in my bank account. My paycheck will probably go through today, but then I turn around and pay rent and a few other assorted bills returning my account to pretty much square one.
I know the phrase "where does it all go" is cliched but I don't really live beyond my means, I don't own anything in the world except a motorcycle that's probably not worth the parts and labor for the work I just had done to it, a computer I put together myself using a lot of stuff from my old one, and a desk. I have my name on a lease entitling me the honor of paying someone to live in their house, and am responsible for the bill for my cell phone that is practically held together with bubblegum and shoestrings. I own nothing yet my money doesn't seem to notice that on its way out the fucking door.
I buy beer and cigarettes. Occasionally I go out. I haven't bought a new article of clothing for myself in probably 3 years. I don't get it.
One year, I made roughly Ten grand. Yeah, that's right, $10,000. That's one hundred one hundreds. Somehow, I was able to save THREE THOUSAND DOLLARS of that. How? What in the hell? How was I able to live for a year on seven thousand dollars and now couldn't probably live a year with under 25 grand without ending up in my parent's spare bedroom? I don't have any expensive tastes or a lavish lifestyle to keep up. I feel like a character in one of those movies about the guy who thinks his life is mediocre but then through some crazy turn of events finds out that his life has meaning and he actually is destined fro greatness -- except in my movie I just stay a renter, driving a beatup, used motorcycle, who plays a lot of video games because he knows he either has no money for any other form of entertainment or partaking in other form of entertainment will cause him to not have anymore money.
|
|
 |
