January 28, 2003 (10:20 p.m. CST)
It's nighttime...and UTA's servers are still up! Must... blog... while... opportunity avails itself...

Buh-wow! Mmm...tasty Nelly Furtado.

Lately, there's been significant backlash against the many celebrities who are speaking out against the prospect of war against the Iraqis. Lately younger and (until now) less politically active celebs like Janeane Garofolo and Matt Damon have joined the ranks of the Barbra Streisands and Susan Sarandons, prompting tonguelashings from many conservative columnists and pundits. Many of the critics consider the celebrity lobby to be underinformed and inexperienced in geopolitics, and in some cases those criticisms are valid. I consider and civil debate to be useful, so I'll defend the rights of the movie stars and rock singers to protest war just as fervently as I'll defend the rights of the right-wing press to question the stars' motives and usefulness. After all, if an actor or actress wants to climb onto a podium and stump dissidently, they're taking their careers into their own hands. Just ask Jane Fonda.

And for the record, I support ousting Hussein using the most efficient and expedient means we have in our repetoire. Assassinate him, oust him, attack him, kidnap him...I don't care. Just get rid of him (and take his mutant son, Uday, while you're at it) without needlessly endangering civilians and I'll be ecstatic.

But onto happier things! Like the newest instance of the curbstomping of the RIAA's Web page. Though Wired calls it a hack, but technically it isn't. Most people, myself included, hardly consider the minimal efforts of "script kiddies" to be hacking. Back when IRC was the thing, any punk could download a script like Phoenix and CTCP ping flood a user, and launching Denial of Service attacks isn't much different. There's only so much IP masking a user can do, so it shouldn't be long before those responsible are found and shut down, but only after they lose their computer privileges for the next ten years.

January 28, 2003 (1:29 p.m. CST)
Why not confuse matters with another post? Yeah Gord, why the hell not?

Further evidence that people should pass some kind of certification process before being allowed to breed: Some asshats in Chicago chained their 3-year old son to a bedpost. But wait, these are his foster parents. One can only imagine how shitty his biological parents were to him...

That's it... time for class.

January 28, 2003 (10:01 a.m. CST)
I have a feeling that this is going to be a bit confusing. Depending on when you read this, the previous blog entry may be dated yesterday afternoon or from a mere four hours ago. I was unable to upload my last few updates prior to leaving for school, and now I'm telnetting into my shell account to manually edit this page. When I get home later today, I'll have to View Source on the remote page, then cut and past this blog entry into the HTML file on my computer at home. Then I'll have to re-upload the lot, after making sure that everything's been reformatted properly. Jeez. Omega should stay online tonight, if it knows what's good for it...

It looks like I've resurrected my career as a student journalist. The sexy people at the Shorthorn are willing to take me on as a contributing writer, possibly starting as early as Thursday.

The fine gentleman below is Charles Townes, the unwitting result of a semi-random Google image search (GIS). The toy with which he's playing is one of the first operational masers, a device that uses radiation to focus ammonia molecules into a tight beam. Screw the maser, I'm digging Chaz' tie!

UTA = UP! (hooray!)

January 28, 2003 (6:57 a.m. CST)
A quick update before I head to school...

I was channel surfing last night, having trouble finding anything worth watching. I stumbled onto a news feature about a museum that recreated the raillines that run from Chicago to Seattle in miniature, complete with scale models of the Space Needle and the Sears Tower. "Cool," I thought, "I should drag Fungushead there." The report was followed by the weather forecast, which quickly caught my attention. It called for a nasty commute due to snow, sleet and freezing rain and temperatures in the 20s (-10 to -15 Celcius or so). "What the fuck?" I asked myself silently, scrunching my brow in puzzlement. Then I saw the network logo in the bottom-right corner: WGN. "Motherfucker, I'm watching Chicago's weather."

UTA = down. Asswhorebitchcuntfuckcockshitscrote.

January 28, 2003 (4:09 a.m. CST)
There's a dirty little part of me that's simply giddy that t.A.T.u. is getting some airplay on MTV. What could be better than a duo consisting of a hot redhead (who resembles Alyson Hannigan with curly hair) and a hot brunette (who could pass as a young Julia Ormond)? How about a duo consisting of a hot, bisexual redhead and a hot, bisexual brunette who make out with each other in their videos and while onstage! Yay t.A.T.u.! Damn you, MuchMusic for not clueing in: nubile lesbians sell!

I promised my friend Kelly that I'd post a new Toban article tonight, and I've delivered! To read it, go here.

If you were keeping track. UTA's servers are still FUBARed beyond belief.

January 28, 2003 (1:09 a.m. CST)
UTA network: down Gord: unhappy

Not much to report today, I'm distracted by dominoes tournaments at Yahoo! Games. I've won one so far, and I'm plugging away at a second.

Will Martha Stewart become some butch's prison bitch? Well, probably not, but it looks like Dennis Kozlowski has some rectal distension in his future.

January 27, 2003 (2:48 a.m. CST)
Jeez, are they unplugging the router when they leave at night? UTA's down again. I could enjoy more success maintaining a network by only using my cock to make mouse clicks and keystrokes. Not that I'm bitter...

here's my official Super Bowl prediction: Raiders 34 - Buccaneers 22

I'm glad I didn't make any foolish bets. I revised my prediction before kickoff to "Raiders by eight," but I still wasn't even close. My pick for game MVP was Simeon Rice (who was robbed of one of his three sacks by the statisticians just because it took place on a two-point conversion attempt). Good call by Gruden by giving props to Tony Dungy during the post-game interview. And could the Bucs' owner look any more creepy. The man makes Al Davis look like, well, someone who doesn't molest children. Or goats. Or goat kids.

I haven't done this in a while...here's some random noise from early morning TV:
"Sick of people not being able to help me...the nutrients found in CalMax can help... and how cooperative Iraq is...so we've let learning slide in Texas...freckles, blotches... the bottoms are uh, are uh, I forgot, uh flannel...I never mess with turkeys...in a single moment, he went from distinguished scholar...and then my chin was too big, so I had that cut back...Enrique has an uncanny way of captivating...we're turning water into hot water vapor...you'll feel completely rejuvenated, or your money back...she took a ton of shots...from crooked cops and cover-ups...it's not the falling of the temperature...a garageful of products...the Galapagos, always filled with surprises...I want this spending explained, every penny...neither will mine, Batman...but wallowing in the mud...Cowboys snap Texas Tech's seven-game winning streak...forget to change the filters...thanks to Wonderdog..."

Back to the Super Bowl for a second. Well, not the Super Bowl proper, but the soiree I attended. Caramelhead brought me out to a Super Bowl party held by two of her coworkers. Only good things to report: friendly people, tasty hamburgers and a quality matchup on the old gridiron. The best part of it was Pepé. I am now able to say that I know a guy named Pepé, and that allows me to cross one more thing from my list of "Things to do before I die." Sweet.

One last link before I go... Instead of rehashing and commenting on the dozen-or-so advertisements that aired during tonight's football orgy, I'll let a professional do the job for me. James Lileks sums it all up very nicely, then adds a bit of a rant against clueless war protesters to boot.

January 26, 2003 (4:28 a.m. CST)
Caramelhead and I drove out to Grapevine tonight to see Chicago. I'm not yet sure, but I may be developing an unhealthy affection for Renée Zellweger. Sure, she was adorable in Jerry Maguire, but until last year that was the lion's share of her oeuvre (along with the underrated Empire Records). I'd forgotten that she even appeared in Reality Bites and few people will admit to seeing the Luke Perry vehicle 8 Seconds. But in 2000, she turned it around, nabbing a sweet role in the misunderstood Nurse Betty, which she followed with Bridget Jones's Diary. Mmm... chubby Renée in a Playboy bunny outfit (I think she looks better with a little filling out, but I digress). And now she goes a step further by taking a daring role in, of all things, a musical. In the lead role. I am suitably impressed.

Normally, we wouldn't drive all the way to Grapevine Mills when the same movie is playing at the much closer UA theatre, but Caramelhead wanted to get me a new pair of shoes. After a brisk lap of the mall, we found the Bass Shoes outlet store and bought me a new pair of what can only be described as sueded hiking loafers. My current pair is almost two years old, and are at the point of spontaneous disintegration. I was waffling at the pair I chose, until I saw the model name: the Stalagmite. Sexy!

January 26, 2003 (3:05 a.m. CST)
Tomorrow's Super Bowl Sunday. Technically, today is Super Bowl Sunday, but I don't consider a day to be "today" if I have yet to sleep. That does confuse matters when I pull an all-nighter -- as I did last night -- and need to remember days and dates the second day. I do intend to sleep tonight, as I have a evening's worth of fun and frivolity planned for tomorrow (later today).

Fingers seem to be pointing at the "SQL Slammer" worm as the cause of last night's problems with the UTA network. Some sodomite wrote a worm (a self-replicating virus that jams up network traffic and may leave servers open to remote manipulation at a later date). And due to the rate at which this worm spread (as with the similar "Code Red" worm from last year) it's doubtful that the perpetrator will be identified, let alone caught. I'm not fully convinced the worm's the only culprit, because it is supposed to be under control. I, however, still can't access any page or server from the uta.edu domain. Traceroutes kack shortly after crossing over from my ISP's network and into UTA's, so I can rule out a local problem at least. Unfortunately, this means that there may be a bit of lag between now (the timestamp above) and when this entry actually finds its way onto my site.

As for the rest of the world, spy planes are crashing and dog food factories are exploding. Not much happy news to report.

Above is the result of yet another random Google Image Search. This time, we get what appears to be a badly-scanned postcard of the cockpit of a DC-3. I flew in a DC-3 once when I was eight or nine years old. Every summer for most of my childhood, I would travel to British Columbia to spend a month with my mother. I'd usually fly, with the trip transpiring in two legs: Winnipeg to Vancouver (almost always in a DC-8 or DC-9) and then Vancouver to Port Hardy, BC (in a smaller, regional passenger jet). As an unaccompanied minor, I'd spend the layover in the care of one or more flight attendants in the inner recesses of Vancouver International Airport that today are strictly off-limits to precocious kids with bad haircuts. The period between flights rarely lasted more than two hours, but one summer (at least I think it was summer) mechanical delays with my connecting flight stretched out my stay in Vancouver. Problems with the landing gear grounded the assigned plane in Calgary, forcing Canadian Pacific to bring an old DC-3 out of mothballs for the flight up to Port Hardy. This DC-3 had problems with its cabin pressurization -- assuming it had any to start with -- forcing us to fly at a much lower altitude than usual. The flight was miserable, buzzing the mountains of Vancouver Island in a 40-year old "flying boxcar" proved to be turbulent and more than a bit frightening. Obviously, I arrived safely, although a bit less confident in CPAir.

January 25, 2003 (5:36 a.m. CST)
Gah. I've been wrestling with UTA's servers all night. I'll be able to upload pages in piecemeal fashion...one or two at a time. Then I get booted off the server and have to fight for five minutes to get back on. It's not just omega either, it's the whole domain, so I'm thinking it's either a problem with routing or a DoS (Denial of Service) attack. In the meanwhile, I've had the chance to do some administrative work on these hallowed pages, which was all well and good until I came to the realization that I would need to upload more pages to reflect the updates. Which gives me more time to work on the site (hence this blog entry). Fucking moebius loops.

Apart from messing around with the Web site, I was able to write an E2 node: schiltron. It's kinda like a phalanx, but Scottish... Hell, just read the write-up.

January 25, 2003 (4:19 a.m. CST)
Who's up for some hot Friday Five action?

1. What is one thing you don't like about your body? -- Just one? I'd have to go with my flab, although I'm trying to address this. See my resolutions down at the bottom of the page.

2. What are two things you love about your body? -- My eyes, which I think are rather expressive (they change color depending on my mood and attire). And my feet. I have great feet.

3. What are three things you want to change about your home? -- We're limited here, as I live in an apartment. Caramelhead and I have toyed with the idea of replacing our bulky particle board shelving unit (dominating one wall of the living room) with some more attractive shelves. We'd like a new TV; the current model would be relegated to bedroom use. Finally, we need to find a way to curtail the dog smell.

4. What are four books you want to read this year?

• Notable American Women by Ben Marcus (a Christmas gift, one-third complete)
• Choke by Chuck Palahniuk (also a Christmas gift)
• Making Cocoa for Kingsley Amis by Wendy Cope (due to arrive sometime late next month)
• The Lobster Chronicles by Linda Greenlaw (a gift to my wife, she's raved about it)

5. What are five promises you have kept to yourself? -- Ooh, this is tough. I usually waffle on promises I make to myself...and I'm not so hot with those I make to others, either. Well, I promised that I wouldn't let myself get snared by "M." when she came back to the well a last time (see Crappy Ex-Girlfriend Rant #3 for details). Most of the important promises I've made to myself are "works in progress": to visit Scotland once in my lifetime, to finally complete my degree, to be a better father than my own father was to me and to to finally get myself back into reasonable shape. We'll see how these ones work out, alright?

January 25, 2003 (12:45 a.m. CST)
I'm not quite sure when this will get uploaded, as UTA's network seems to be tonguing arse at the moment. It hopefully will get posted tonight, otherwise it'll have to wait until tomorrow afternoon. I've said it before, but I never encountered problems like this at the University of Manitoba; their servers seemed to be rock-solid. And administered in a necessarily fascist manner. Metaphorically speaking, however, the trains did run on time...

I've been having trouble sleeping again, so I may need to get my Ambien perscription refilled. It could be a side effect from all the caffeine that I ingest, but the usual sleep aids have limited effect on me. Maybe I just need to drink some rosehip tea (or something of the sort), but I've always been skeptical of these homeopathic remedies. It's not like I plan to sleep much tonight...there's more blogging to do before bed finally beckons. After all, I do need to upload these pages tonight, right?

January 24, 2003 (4:14 p.m. CST)
Right now, the dogs are wrestling in the living room. You'd think that it would be a mismatch: a sedentary rat terrier (Cassie, a.k.a. "Stinky") versus our energetic German Shepherd/Collie/Golden Retriever cross puppy (Gretchen, a.k.a. "Honeybear" or "Underfoot"). You'd be surprised, as Cassie routinely maintains her position as the "alpha" dog of the two. Gretchen is a bit of a wimp, though. But enough about the mundane details of my life...

One of my favorite Christmas presents from this past Yule was a last minute selection from the discount rack at the bookstore: German Warplanes of World War II. Since my early childhood, I've loved books like these -- they're colorful, informative and tap into the male desire to spend Saturday afternoons watching war documentaries on A&E. Either way, the book is fertile ground for E2 nodes about Luftwaffe planes. Two have been completed thusfar: Arado Ar 234 Blitz and Dornier Do 17.

I submitted my application to be a contestant on SURVIVORblog3. As I hover about the periphery of the blogging community, it's doubtful that I'll be selected. Cross your collective fingers... please?

January 24, 2003 (1:42 a.m. CST)
And now for the most tasteless tagline possible: It's raining men!

Ah, the wonders of modern medicine! Californian geneticists have managed to breed duck embryos with quail beaks and quails with duck bills. That does put a new spin on the whole "Ugly Duckling" tale, doesn't it? Then again, you could have Yasmine Bleeth's gangrenous nose.

Need some fodder for your nightmares? Take a look at this creepy photo, the result of another random GIS query. Okay, Yogi and the Care Bear explain themselves, but what's up with the barefoot panda? And please tell me that thing on the left isn't a gorilla. My money's on a chipmunk, but there's no way to tell for sure without gutting it.

January 23, 2003 (4:56 p.m. CST)
A quickie post before I go to work...

Today is not my day to work. I should have Thursdays off in a typical week, but my manager has only been scheduling me to work four-hour shifts. To keep my allotment of hours up, I have to work more than my usual smattering of days. The problem is that I booked Tuesdays and Thursdays off to attend rugby practice, something I haven't done in over a year. One Thursday is fine...but I better get this Sunday off. I...uh...have laundry to do.

I better not run into an traffic cockups on my way to the mall.

January 23, 2003 (10:35 a.m. CST)
Normally I wouldn't post a link like this (I'll read 'em, but rarely do I force ESPN.com's Page 2 silliness on you. But the final five lines of their Super Bowl report card makes it all worthwhile.

It's damn cold this morning. Well, cold for Texas, that is. Most of the continent is being blanketed by a right nasty mass of arctic air. I suppose I shouldn't bitch about the cold too much; I am a Winnipegger after all. Plus, I have a good friend living in Rankin Inlet, Nunavut, which is currently a balmy -47 with wind chill. (That's Celcius, but once you get to -40, it isn't worth mentioning which scale you use. For the academics and nitpickers out there, that's about 53 below in Fahrenheit.) I hope Kelly has his thermal undies nearby. If you doubt me, check out the current conditions in Rankin.

Not much else to say right now...I need to feed the fish. And walk the dog. And nap, I need to nap.

January 23, 2003 (9:39 a.m. CST)
Below, you'll see a representation of my E2 nodegel. Each dot represents a write-up that I've submitted to Everything 2. The better the w/u, the higher up the y-axis it appears. The further to the right (on the x-axis), the more recent the w/u. If you click on the dots, you can read my work. Big, big ups got to E2's Pyrogenic, who wrote the application that generated following the image map.

January 23, 2003 (2:54 a.m. CST)
There we go...I posted a new Toban article. Actually, it's an ad column I wrote, but it's all the same seven years after the fact, right? Every time I add something new to this Web site, I'm reminded of the Progessive Auto Insurance commercial..."It's your Web site. There's not enough content." You may have seen it. Well, my response to that line is "Well, I just uploaded a new article. So suck it, bitch!" every time I add a Toban or a rant. Hypothetically speaking, of course.

While researching the aforementioned article, I stumbled upon a little gem of Canadiana: Rita MacNeil's recipe for paté. Why doesn't it surprise me that she uses two types of booze? At the bottom of the page you'll find links to her other recipes, including molasses cookies (heavy on the shortening and molasses, of course).

January 23, 2003 (1:24 a.m. CST)
After 24 days in the postal system, my mother's parcel arrived yesterday. The package was mailed on December 30, but was delayed by U.S. Customs, and prior to that probably was sent on a roundabout trip to Toronto or Vancouver (because God forbid Canada Post routes international mail using the most logical and shortest path). The customs agents rooted through the package, even tearing open the wrapping paper on Caramelhead's present. My mum sent Goodhost Iced Tea, Cadbury chocolate bars, copies of the Winnipeg Free Press, Jerky Treats for the dogs and Old Dutch potato chips. Yay Rae!

Just because I can, here's my official Super Bowl prediction: Raiders 34 - Buccaneers 22

I think I'll post a Toban article tonight.

So the RIAA's going to subpoena Verizon to identify a KaZaA-running user. As the case makes its way through the appeals process, the RIAA will be slathering. I'd wager that they already have a comprehensive list of KaZaA users who've been sharing copyrighted songs (likely including yours truly). If the final decision is in the RIAA's favor, expect a slew of "cease and desist" letters to be sent. I fully expect to receive one. I don't expect many "pirates" to format their hard drives, they'll just unshare their songs and movies and leech from the Canadians, Europeans and Asians. And there's the RIAA's problem: their authority effectively ends at the borders of the United States. Currently, they have no legal way to monitor individual downloads, so their activities will be restricted to searching out American Internet users sharing songs protected by copyrights held by RIAA members. "Beware, you! Or I shall menace you with this comprehensive list!"