>140 Characters

How to get friends on this thing...

Thu, 29 Jul 2010 19:45:05 -0400

You’d think “posting pics of boobs” would be answer number one, especially considering what I’ve been seeing around these parts (your… parts) but I asked around and there were two resounding answers (no, it wasn’t the “left boob” and the “right boob”). The answers were: kittens and bacon.

I won’t do it a lot. My dog Max would not have it. But since I’m feeling like the new kid on the block…

I’m just gonna leave this here.

Okay now...

Sat, 26 Jun 2010 20:43:10 -0400

Even I can’t accept The Steve’s directive of, “Well, just don’t hold it like that,” regarding the antenna connection issues on the iPhone 4.

That said, I don’t happen to hold my phone “like that” anyway, and when I try to replicate the issue, I can do so only if I use the entirety of my thumb to hold the side of the phone (just branching my finger across the divider doesn’t do it), but when so many people complain of an issue, I think it deserves a little more of a response than the old physician’s axiom.

The fact that Apple released “bumper cases” that provide a rubber ring around the stainless steel bands forming the edges (and antenna) of the case tells me that Apple probably knew of this issue, but found out about it only after the final design had gone to manufacturing, and they needed a quick fix. Other than the iPad, do you remember the last time Apple created a branded case for one of its gadgets? I don’t. This, of course, is purely speculation on my part and I have no knowledge whatsoever of the truth behind this issue, but the release of the bumper to cover an otherwise beautiful phone just doesn’t make a lot of sense to me.

(Okay, as I was typing that last paragraph, I remembered the stupid little “socks” that Apple released in multiple colors, but I’m talking about “case cases” not “sock cases.”)

Of course, I’ve already ordered bumpers for my iPhone (in black, of course) and my wife’s (in pink, her choice), and I know they’ll destroy the machined, Audi-esque look of it, but damn, The Steve. This flaw is a pretty big let-down, especially when the rest of the device is so incredible. I mean really, there is no other phone I’d rather have in my pocket, regardless of network. Everything is so well executed that having a gaff that results in a complete loss of signal is just mind-blowingly not Apple.

/end rant

nondescriptoneblog: #OilWell #Capping video produced by a...

Sat, 19 Jun 2010 16:57:59 -0400

[Flash 10 is required to watch video.]

nondescriptoneblog:

#OilWell #Capping video produced by a friend of mine to demonstrate my oil well stopping idea. Note: Given that the casing has probably ruptured somewhere further down, this idea is even better, because the brush can be pushed down the casing past the rupture, theoretically, and the “junk shot” material can be inserted down the drill pipe itself. Please disseminate as widely as possible!!!

"Personal Responsibility, What?"

Wed, 02 Jun 2010 07:48:00 -0400

There has been endless chatter about the “cost” of Google’s one-day stunt in which they celebrated the venerable video game “Pac-Man” by replacing their daily graphic with a fully-functional HTML5 version of the game that anyone could play.

@Workawesome, a favorite Twitter feed (and corresponding web site) put out the following this morning:

The cost of the hours lost due to the Google Pac-Man logo is revealed: $120,483,800. Ahem.

While this post doesn’t directly blame Google for the amount of productivity lost, many others that I’ve read recently do.

Google had no more of a hand in this dollar amount than fork manufacturers did in making me fat. The world has seemingly lost its ability to enact and uphold personal responsibility. If “Tom” spent twenty minutes on Google’s website playing an old classic, then that’s what Tom chose to do during his work hours instead of working. I knew that Google had the game up there, and you know what? I just didn’t use it while I was at work. Others did, and that’s not Google’s fault. The whole “attractive nuisance” theory of litigation has gotten so out of control in this country that it’s spilled into every facet of our lives. Did you break into my house one night, and I shot you for doing so? It’s RIDICULOUS to think that you then would expect to sue me for damages, but in states without a Castle Doctrine, it happens every day. Did your boss fire you because you weren’t producing anything anymore? It’s not “the man’s” fault because you chose not to get off the Internet and telephone for eight hours a day after being warned repeatedly, genius.

Another company taking a hit right now is Foxconn, in China, and by proxy, Apple who contracts them to build the iPad and iPhone among other devices. Yes, it’s had a number of suicides lately, but it’s an 800,000 person company, and their suicide rate is less than the AMERICAN NATIONAL AVERAGE. Yet, because of the press and the “blame anyone else but yourself” mentality we have these days, Foxconn is squarely in the news with a target on it’s managerial head, and Apple is making grandiose promises to directly give bonuses to the workers just to stop the finger pointing.

I’m just sick—and extremely tired—of people blaming their problems on others in this world instead of just getting over themselves, doing what’s right, and occasionally dabbling in the truth once in a while instead of looking for someone else to identify as the “real” culprit. If someone has wronged you—truly wronged you—then let them stand trial for their crimes. Otherwise, just because you slipped on the neighbor’s pool deck when you jumped over his fence at night to take an unauthorized swim, you don’t deserve to sue him for HIS negligence to get that fat settlement that you can retire on.

"OMG"

Fri, 02 Apr 2010 14:39:00 -0400

Over-aggressive soccer mom just got out of line behind me, pulled around me, squeezed through the gate, and parked ahead of me PAST the pick-up line to be first.

Seriously? I SO wish the worst thing I had to be concerned about in life was jockying for first car in the primary school pick-up line.

People, you have no idea what’s waiting for you out there.

"Well, huh."

Fri, 02 Apr 2010 14:34:10 -0400

I’m home today so my wife can chaperone a field trip with 9’s class to Mt. Vernon. Something came-up at work I really needed to be there for, but we couldn’t find someone to either take her place or watch 2 all day and pick-up 7 from school.

So, my wife pings me at 1:02 PM to ask if I’m going to 7’s Spring Party. I had no idea about this, except for a vague recollection that I told her before that I wasn’t going to make it.

Long discussion short, she basically ordered me to go because of how much it would mean to 7.

I rush to get 2 and myself ready to get there for the last half of the party. We got to the school, checked-in, and found 7’s class outside.

7 came over, gave me a hug, and ran off to play. We were left with the class little snot who insisted on hanging around the baby, telling me that HER little sister had everything my baby had on/with her, one item at a time.

Every time we moved closer to 7’s group, they ran away.

On the way back into the school, 7 gave me another hug and ran inside. That was that. Not so sure how “special” that was for her, hon.

I guess the bright side is that I’m 45 minutes early for the pick-up line and am first. Take that, over-achieving soccer moms.

Strangely appealing… thisiswhyyourefat: Bacon...

Sat, 27 Mar 2010 13:38:58 -0400

Strangely appealing…

thisiswhyyourefat:

Bacon Bouquet

(submitted by Rusty Shackleford)

...and yeah.

Tue, 16 Mar 2010 22:15:53 -0400

I think I’ll be doing a few more of my “favorite things” posts. I mean, if Oprah can do it, why can’t I?

Oh, right. Because she’s Oprah. Whatever. I’m still doing them.

Stuff I Love #476: My Walther PPS Pistol(s)

Tue, 16 Mar 2010 22:14:09 -0400

The black one is the new Walther PPS pistol; it’s compared to its older sibling, the Walther PPK/S.

I’ve been a Walther pistol fan forever. For my high school graduation present, my mom took me down into Arlington to a pawn shop that she knew well. Besides being a source of alternative financing, it was also a gun dealer for both new and used pieces.

Looking through the case, I found a new stainless steel Walther PPK (the shorter-gripped variant) much like the one above. Its serial number started with “A007”; the 17 year old kid in me knew that was the one. (I mean, if a 17 year old kid is going to get “James Bond’s gun,” one that had a matching serial number was priceless.) We split the cost of the pistol, and I’ve had it in our family’s possession ever since. It’s been rugged, reliable, and problem-free. I’ll pass it down with reverence to my children when the time comes.

However, as a personal defense weapon, the PPK has a few drawbacks—most notably, the somewhat anemic .380 cartridge it fires. Also, while small, smooth, and concealable, it’s also very heavy due to the stainless steel construction. The weight assists accuracy, but it also drags down your pants.

Enter the Walther PPS. Walther reimagined the idea of their police pistol series and created the PPS (black pistol above). The PPS is available in 9mm or .40, and has magazines that run from a highly-concealable 5 rounds (of .40) through an extended grip offering 7 rounds (or 8 rounds of .9mm). While it looks a little futuristic, especially compared to the swooped curves of the PPK, it’s a sincerely fine firearm.

Accurate, tight, and easy to disassemble and clean, the Walther PPS offers small or large backstraps, allowing the shooter to customize the grip for his/her hand. Unlike the Walther P99’s cotter pin that must be removed (which caused me to put a small scratch in the handle of my P99), the PPS has a pressure switch at the heel of the grip that pops-off the backstrap quickly and cleanly. Additionally, this automatically decocks the striker, making cleaning a safer procedure than other polymer pistols that require you to pull the trigger to disassemble it.

Even though it has a relatively short barrel length, accuracy is excellent. In fact, I’m far more accurate with it than I am with my full-sized Walther P99. The design puts the slide low to the frame, keeping the center of gravity down and minimizing muzzle flip — especially important in the .40. Interestingly, many people I’ve spoken with at gun shops have warned about their doubts about being able to control a .40 that light. When I ask them if they’ve ever fired one, the answer was invariably, “No, no, I haven’t.” Truth is, muzzle flip is extremely controlled and more manageable than many of my other pistols.

How much do I love my PPS? About six months after I bought my first one, I bought a second. For concealed carry and personal protection, I think you’d be hard-pressed to find something better balanced between size, features, and caliber than the Walther PPS. This goes triple if you don’t like Glocks. Glocks have a huge fan base, but I have yet to hold one that fits or feels right in my hand. If Glocks leave you cold, try the Walther for better ergonomics. The narrower grip will work better for people with smaller hands (like myself) who might have trouble holding a SIG or Glock’s wider grip comfortably.

Pros: Offers 9mm or .40 versions, smooth, very slim, compact, light, no external safety, crisp and light double-action only trigger, easy to take down/clean/reassemble, and configurable with different backstraps and a short accessory rail. (An X2 light or light/laser fits perfectly.)

Cons: Relatively expensive (about $650-$700), few accessories offered (get on making some grips, Crimson Trace!), only a handful of holsters are available (but many custom makers offer them now), and the single-stack ammo capacity is somewhat light by today’s double-stack XD standards, no external safety (if you like them—I don’t). Early PPSes had issues with sticking slides, but there have been few instances of that happening with later production runs.

Stuff I Love #322: My Keurig Brewer

Mon, 15 Mar 2010 07:49:52 -0400

Love.

I am in serious like, if not love, with my home Keurig coffee maker. Not only does this bad boy brew a perfect cup of coffee each and every time I use it, but it can also do any variety of teas, hot chocolate, or even a Cup of Noodles (on the travel mug setting!).

While individual K-Cups (the little plastic cup of coffee that you feed into the machine) are a little expensive (about $0.50 each, cheaper on sale), you get a reliable, quick, and delicious cup of coffee. Each K-Cup is a sealed unit with ground coffee and a little filter — even though the coffee hits the mug almost instantaneously, it’s NOT instant coffee. It’s a brewed cup of morning deliciousness that can’t be beaten in terms of reliability, ease, and immediacy.

A brewer like this one will run you about $150, though they do have both smaller and larger models available. K-Cups run the gamut across different coffee and tea companies, and they have dozens and dozens of different roasts, flavors, and specialty items.

Keurig. That’s good coffee.

IRL? OL? WTF?

Sat, 13 Mar 2010 01:45:05 -0500

A couple of weeks ago, I had an email conversation with a friend (::waves::) about the differences between in-real-life friends and on-line friends. I guess I never really thought about it before, but in talking with her, I realized something.

To me, there is no difference.

I first went online sometime back around 1984 or 85, sitting behind my Coleco ADAM computer, using its 300 bps modem to visit bulletin boards (remember those?!) and to “work” on one of the first online gaming systems in the country — a multi-user text-based adventure that made my barely-teen geek heart sing every time I played it.

As hours turned into days, days into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years, the friends I made on that game — almost all of whom I had never seen before — were some of the closest I would ever have. Hell, one of them even ended-up giving me my first job in the tech sector, knowing I could do it because of our online time together and for no other reason. I’ve never forgotten that.

So, flash forward to today, and it seems like EVERYONE is making friends online, but it also seems most everyone has a distinction between “online friends” and “in real life friends,” somehow always inferring that the latter is better.

I submit that this is not the case.

Some of the people I have “met” online are also some of those people I would consider among my dearest friends. I share my stories with them, seek their counsel, offer them comfort, and get more excited for their accomplishments than I do my own.

“How do you know people are telling the truth about who they are,” you ask? Again, I submit that it doesn’t matter, or at least, not much. Sometimes, online, we’re funnier, more handsome, or a better dancer than we are in our daily existence, but maybe…just maybe…that’s the person who we really are inside, but for whatever reason, we don’t let him or her out. Our internal filters stop us from talking about sex, poop, or vomit issues in a board meeting or around the water cooler (usually), but on Twitter or Tumblr, we open-up and reveal that part of ourselves to the world that we NEVER would to an intimate group.

So, if I get to know that person online, I truly believe that I’m getting to know the REAL person on the inside, not the person that they’re forced to be on the outside.

I had the pleasure of meeting three on-line friends in real life recently, and let me tell you, they didn’t disappoint. After about three seconds of an uncomfortable silence, one of us broke the ice (not I, sadly) and we then didn’t shut-up for hours. At that moment, I knew that each one of those people I had been talking to in short 140 character bursts were exactly the people I had come to know.

Of course, many of you might find this strange. Heck, there are a couple of you whom I’ve asked for advice and I trust implicitly, and I don’t even know your real names. I may not know you if I passed you in a hallway, but I know if I sent you an email with a subject of, “I really need your help,” you’d be there. Some of you have talked me down from proverbial ledges and haven’t even known it. Maybe you don’t even really talk to me much, but I see something in you that I find fascinating, special, or just kind. Maybe you don’t even see it in yourself.

I guess part of this comes from who I am. I’m married, have three great kids, a good job, and I’m a fiercely loyal person. I’m not on the Internet looking to cheat on my wife or scam people for sport; I’m looking to find the good people of the world with whom I click, regardless of their age, race, sex, or shoe size. Really, I don’t even care if we ever meet face-to-face. I don’t need to meet you to prove to myself that I like you. I can (and will) care as much about you though our short, haiku-like communications as I would if you were standing right beside me.

Because in my mind, you already are.

So, he WILL wear something other than a black mock turtleneck...

Mon, 08 Mar 2010 07:22:10 -0500

So, he WILL wear something other than a black mock turtleneck and jeans now and again, it seems. Good on Steve for branching out. :-)

zadi:

Steve Jobs at the 2010 Oscars. He’s looking straight at the camera. I’m kinda geeking out right now. I had no idea I had gotten this photo. #kodakredcarpet

::Snark:: fivemoreminutesplease: killaguhrilla: True....

Sat, 06 Mar 2010 18:43:18 -0500

::Snark::

fivemoreminutesplease:

killaguhrilla:

True. True.

Like.

Stop It!

Thu, 25 Feb 2010 21:41:11 -0500

Rachelfabulous’s post about her mini-meltdown reminded me of an episode two nights ago with my nine year old daughter.

I was checking her homework for her, and it was late, and I had just done another twelve hours at the office. You can imagine my mood.

She wasn’t listening at all, being disrespectful, and pushing my buttons left and right. I was getting angrier and angrier, and it just seemed to be fueling her.

At one point, I finally exploded and yelled, “DO YOU EVEN HAVE ANY CLUE WHATSOEVER WHY I’M SO MAD AT YOU RIGHT NOW?!”

She looked down at the floor, peeked up, and said, “Because I’m awesome and you’re jealous?”

Could. Not. Stop. Laughing.

Whole & Sometimes Broken Crackers: A funny thing happens sometimes.

Sun, 21 Feb 2010 20:27:51 -0500

Whole & Sometimes Broken Crackers: A funny thing happens sometimes.: This? Couldn’t have come for me at a better time.

Sometimes you need to just realize the problem isn’t you. And then you need to bow out gracefully, as quietly as you can. You need to realize your own insecurities and worries actually have little or nothing to do with anyone else or how they perceive certain situations.

Sometimes you make a…

Can't Win for Losing

Fri, 29 Jan 2010 20:39:36 -0500

Today is my middle daughter’s 7th birthday party at one of those bouncy places. I had planned to come home early from work to help my wife corral the 32 kids at the party, but baby girl’s miserable case of Roseola had me staying home with her.

I haven’t heard from the wife yet, and the party should have ended a half-hour ago.

I hope my not being at 7’s birthday party isn’t what puts her on the stripper pole 11 years from now. That should be her choice free and clear of mental anguish caused by her parents.

The Wiggles: How we got started - Jan. 19, 2010

Wed, 20 Jan 2010 07:42:43 -0500

The Wiggles: How we got started - Jan. 19, 2010:

Wow. I’m a little surprised that the Wiggles make only about $45 million per year.

Having three girls, I think I’ve already covered at LEAST that much in tickets and merchandising myself.

Fail Whale, What?

Wed, 20 Jan 2010 07:26:00 -0500

Twitter has a fail whale showing at 07:25 AM EST? Already?

Wow, if that isn’t an omen for the rest of my day, I don’t know what is.

ETA: Still a solid fail whale at 7:43 AM EST. Either Twitter is getting a massive upgrade, California is having an earthquake, or Twitter is under attack again by Russian/Muslim/Chinese dissidents/extremists/hackers.

Computer Forensics Eated Mah Soul

Sun, 17 Jan 2010 17:16:00 -0500

*** WARNING: This post is not for the faint of heart. I’m not kidding. Please stop reading now if you have a sensitive nature. ***

“Why I am who I am,” or “Computer Forensics and You.”

For the better part of the past thirteen (thirteen?!) years, I have been a computer forensic examiner. Sure, the title varies by job and location — digital forensic analyst, media exploiter, computer forensic investigator — but the job is always the same. Computer forensic examiners delve deeply into computers that have either been the victim, instrumentality, or witness to a crime. (Thank you, Mark P., for that definition. I’ve never left it behind.)

It’s not at all like what you see on “CSI.” Computer forensics can be tiresome, dreary, boring, and downright drudgery. Performing a competent analysis can take days, weeks, or even months depending upon the subject, the condition and state of the hard drive, or the importance of the case. For that time period, the examiner is literally trying on the subject’s life, wearing it like a costume for eight or more hours a day. Everything someone likes, hates, is interested in, fantasizes about, or fetishes goes through his or her keyboard at one point or another. Think about every email message you’ve ever written…every chat you’ve ever typed…every website you’ve ever visited…every phrase you’ve ever searched for online.

Seriously…think about it. I’ll give you a moment.

Now think about me reading and seeing it all. That should scare you a little bit, and if it didn’t, you’re probably lying to yourself. It’s okay. Most people do.

Doing computer forensics for any amount of time in your life changes you. It damages you. It makes you unfit to be around others in decent company, because you have to mentally screen absolutely everything you say in fear of drawing looks of horror or disgust from the good people around you. For forty hours a week, a computer forensic examiner is exposed to the worst that the world has to offer — child pornography, beheadings, torture, rape — all in high resolution photo or video formats. In fact, people in the business have found that for general criminal computer forensic examiners (and we’re not talking about intrusion analysts, as exposure to the badness I’ve mentioned is usually infrequent and incidental), there is a two-year time limit before your soul dies. Around that time, every examiner either has built-up enough of a callus that he/she can continue forever, or that examiner pushes the chair away from the desk, stands up, and says, “I can’t do this anymore.”

Two years. As I said, I’ve been doing it for almost thirteen.

What does the general criminal examiner work with? Almost 80-90% of the cases criminal computer forensic examiners work on are related to child pornography. This ranges from simple digital images to full-length movies recorded by the dregs of humanity. The worst kind, in my opinion, are those we’ve dubbed the “No, Daddy, no” videos, in which a usually heavy-set man rapes his extremely young children. Their faces tell the real story — this isn’t the first time, and they have endured their father’s actions numerous times before. People who make and/or collect these kinds of things usually don’t just have one or two…they have one or two dozen, hundred, or thousand.

How about the counterterrorism examiner? Beheading videos, torture videos, and endless rants about exterminating Americans are the feature of the day. Over and over, you watch videos of jump-suit clad Americans, British, Australians, or others on their knees, begging for their lives, as a troupe of Muslim-extremists stand behind them with knives in hand. Then, after the speeches are done, one of the masked men will all-too-slowly remove the head from the body, then place it triumphantly on the back of his victim. Fade to black. At first, you don’t know how to feel…it sickens you. Then, you feel outrage, and you want to seek retribution. Then, you feel…nothing. You comment on the technical quality of the video and remark about the quality of the jihadist’s upgraded A/V equipment. You comment about the sounds that people make when their heads are removed — it sounds something like a pig drowning. You comment, and you go onto the next one. Like their pedophile brothers, jihadists don’t just have one or two, they have hundreds, and the examiner has to watch every one. After seeing a few dozen of these beheadings and torture videos, the political correctness one may have started with goes right out the window. Gitmo is no longer a bad idea, but a necessity, and suddenly you start getting right with waterboarding. Just sayin’.

Being exposed to this kind of daily horror changes you. I’m not asking for sympathy; I think paramedics or police officers have it worse. (One of my good friends is both a computer forensic examiner AND a paramedic — I’m just WAITING for him to snap.) I’m just offering an explanation for why people like me might not say the most appropriate thing, or why our humor tends to run a little darker than that of others, or why our Twitter posts might occasionally make you blush.

As you can imagine, our meetings are rarely dull.

People who only have known me for a short time might find me to be paranoid, disturbed, or even a little deviant. People who have known me for a long time, especially those in the profession, understand completely.

What’s the upside? Why do computer forensic examiners do what we do? Well, it pays really, really well, and we get to put the occasional criminal behind bars or terrorist behind a scope. That makes it worth it all, even if we do tend to have basements full of MREs, anti-radiation pills, water filters, gas masks, and shotgun shells.

One thing’s for sure…terrorist attack, zombie apocalypse, or cyborg uprising, I’m ready — and it won’t even be much of a surprise.

Don't call me, I'll call you (no I won't)

Tue, 12 Jan 2010 18:05:01 -0500

Super-sized ditto.

rachelfabulous:

I hate the phone. There, I said it.

I hate landlines, I hate cell phones, I hate the sound of a ringtone. I hate to hear you eating in the background and typing on your keyboard. I hate to hear the wind blowing while you walk and talk. I hate to hear crackle crackle static and they you cracking up at some joke you made that I didn’t catch.

I hate when people talk on the phone while they drive, shop, eat, poop, and and work out.

In this day and age, I am never away from communication. Send me a Text, an email, an IM. Twitter me, FB me, Favstar me, Tumblr me. I’ll answer you.   I love you. I’ll laugh with you and cry with you and give you my full undivided attention (as much as my ADD allows). But if you want to speak to me, Don’t fucking call me.

There are a limited exceptions to this rule: 1) You are my mother. 2) You are never at your computer and the only way we get to speak is by you calling me in between carpools 3) You crapped your pants and thought it would be hilarious to tell me right at the moment (and yes, it would be) and 4) I’m at work.

Other than that, don’t expect to reach my by phone. If I don’t pick up my phone it’s because I have no idea where it is. I am busy. The battery died. I’m naked.

The phone rings and I cringe. The voicemail blinks and I cry. Really, truly, I hate the phone.   And it’s probably a good thing - that you all do too.