WEB GRAFFITI ZINE
Zine 18
Collated by William Hillman
Researchers have found that spammers use harvesting programs such as robots and spiders to record e-mail addresses listed on both personal and corporate websites.
SPAMOne way of avoiding this mail-harvesting, said the team, is to replace characters in an e-mail address with human-readable equivalents - for example
john@domain.com would become
john at domain dot com.Another successful evasion technique is to replace the characters in an e-mail address with the HTML equivalent.
None of the project's addresses written in human-readable formats or HTML received a single piece of spam.
Over the course of the six-month study, researchers received over 10,000 e-mail messages to the 250 e-mail addresses they had created. Only about 1,600 of these were legitimate e-mails.
Over 97% of the spam was sent to addresses that had been posted on public websites.
The number of messages received was linked to the popularity of the website. Organisations linked to major portals such as AOL and Yahoo received a lot more spam than those without links.
AOL is currently waging its own war on spammers, recently launching over a dozen lawsuits against individuals and companies it claims is sending unsolicited mail to its members.
Opting out
The research also looked at whether websites respected consumer attempts to opt out of receiving commercial e-mail.In all cases where researchers asked not to receive commercial e-mails, their wishes were respected.
Opting out of e-mail communications further down the line also resulted in the majority of websites complying with the request.
The study found that most web companies did not share or sell e-mail addresses to third parties.
Just 25 spam messages were received as a result of inappropriate sharing or selling of e-mail addresses, and most of these were from gambling and adult-content related websites.
Scatter gun approach
At one point during the study, the system began receiving spam messages to addresses that had never been used for any purpose or submitted to anyone.Such brute force attacks, in which spammers attempt to send e-mails to every possible combination of letters that could form an e-mail address, are relatively common.
The system received over 8,000 brute force e-mails before a block was installed.
These messages were not included in the final data.
An Elite Athlete By Tom DemerlyIt is dark and Mike Smith's clothing is wet. Mike Smith is an athlete, an elite athlete in fact. He is a triathlete, has done Ironman several times, a couple adventure races and even run the Marathon Des Sables in Morocco- a 152 mile running race through the Sahara done in stages. Mike has some college, is gifted in foreign languages, reads a lot and has an amazing memory for details. He enjoys travel. He is a quiet guy but a very good athlete. Mike's friends say he has a natural toughness. He can't spend as much time training for triathlons as he'd like to because his job keeps him busy. Especially now. This is Mike's busy season. But he stillseems very fit. Even without much training Mike has managed some impressive performances in endurance events.
It's a big night for Mike. He's at work tonight. As I mentioned his clothing is wet, partially from dew, partially from perspiration. He and his four coworkers, Dan, Larry, Pete and Maurice are working on a rooftop at the corner of Jamia St. and Khulafa St. across from Omar Bin Yasir. Mike is looking through the viewfinder of a British made Pilkington LF25 laser designator. The crosshairs are centered on a ventilation shaft. The shaft is on the roof of The Republican Guard Palace in downtown Baghdad across the Tigris River.
Saddam Hussein is inside, seven floors below, three floors below ground level, attending a crisis meeting. Mike's coworker Pete (also an Ironman finisher, Lake Placid, 2000) keys some information into a small laptop computer and hits "burst transmit." The DMDG (Digital Message Device Group) uplinks data to another of Mike's coworkers (this time a man he's never met, but they both work for their Uncle, "Sam") and a fellow athlete, at 21'500 feet above Iraq 15 miles from downtown Baghdad. This man's office is the cockpit of an F-117 stealth fighter. When Mike and Pete's signal is received the man in the airplane leaves his orbit outside Baghdad, turns left, and heads downtown.
Mike has 40 seconds to complete his work for tonight, and then he can go for a run. Mike squeezes the trigger of his LF25 and a dot appears on the ventilator shaft five city blocks and across the river away from him and his coworkers. Mike speaks softly into his microphone; "Target illuminated. Danger close. Danger Close. Danger close. Over."
Seconds later two GBU-24B two thousand pound laser guided, hardened case, delayed fuse "bunker buster" bombs fall free from the F-117. The bombs enter "the funnel" and begin finding their way to the tiny dot projected by Mike's LF25. They glide approximately three miles across the ground and fall four
miles on the way to the spot marked by Mike and his friends.When they reach the ventilator shaft marked by Mike and his friends the two bunker busters enter the roof in a puff of dust and debris. They plow through the first four floors of the building like a two-ton steel telephone pole traveling over 400 m.p.h., tossing desks, ceiling tiles, computers and chairs out the shattering windows. Then they hit the six-foot thick reinforced concrete roof of the bunker. They burrow four more feet and detonate.
The shock wave is transparent but reverberates through the ground to the river where a Doppler wave appears on the surface of the Tigris. When the seismic shock reaches the building Mike is on he levitates an inch off the roof from the concussion.
Then the sound hits. The two explosions are like a simultaneous crack of thunder as the building's walls seem to swell momentarily, then burst apart on an expanding fireball that slowly, eerily, boils above Baghdad casting rotating shadows as the fire climbs into the night. Debris begins to rain; structural steel, chunks of concrete, shards of glass, flaming fabrics and papers.
On the tail of the two laser guided bombs a procession of BGM-109G/TLAM Block IV Enhanced Tomahawks begin their terminal plunge. The laser-guided bombs performed the incision, the GPS and computer guided TLAM Tomahawks complete the operation. In rapid-fire succession the missiles find their mark and riddle the Palace with massive explosions, finishing the job. The earth heaves in a final death convulsion.
Mike's job is done for tonight. Now all he has to do is get home. Mike and his friends drive an old Mercedes through the streets of Baghdad as the sirens start. They take Jamia to Al Kut, cross Al Kut and go right (South) on the Expressway out of town. An unsuspecting remote CNN camera mounted on the balcony of the Al Rashid Hotel picks up their vehicle headed out of town. Viewers at home wonder what a car is doing on the street during the beginning of a war. They don't know it is packed with five members of the U.S. Army's SFOD-D, Special Forces Operational Detachment - Delta. Six miles out of town they park their Mercedes on the shoulder, pull their gear out of the trunk and begin to run into the desert night. The moon is nearly full. Instinctively they fan out, on line, in a "lazy 'W' ." They run five miles at a brisk pace, good training for this evening, especially with 27 lb. packs on their back. Behind them there is fire on the horizon. Mike and his fellow athletes have a meeting to catch, and they can't be late.
Twenty-seven miles out a huge gray 92 foot long insect hurtles 40 feet above the desert at 140 mph The MH-53J Pave Low III is piloted by another athlete, also a triathlete, named Jim, from Fort Campbell, Kentucky. He is flying to meet Mike.
After running five miles into the desert Mike uses his GPS to confirm his position. He is in the right place at the right time. He removes an infrared strobe light from his pack and pushes the red button on the bottom of it. It blinks invisibly in the dark. He and his friends form a wide 360 degree circle while waiting for their ride home.
Two miles out Jim in the Pave Low sees Mike's strobe through his night vision goggles. He gently moves the control stick and pulls back on the collective to line up on Mike's infrared strobe. Mike's ride home is here. The big Pave Low helicopter flares for landing over the desert and quickly touches down in a swirling tempest of dust. Mike and his friends run up the ramp after their identity is confirmed. Mike counts them up the ramp of the helicopter over the scream of the engines. When he shows the crew chief five fingers the helicopter lifts off and the ramp comes up. The dark gray Pave Low spins in its own length and picks up speed going back the way it came, changing course slightly to avoid detection.
The men and women in our armed forces, especially Special Operations, are often well trained, gifted athletes. All of them, including Mike, would rather be sleeping the night away in anticipation of a long training ride rather than laying on a damp roof in an unfriendly neighborhood guiding bombs to their mark or doing other things we'll never hear about.
Regardless of your opinions about the war, the sacrifices these people are making and the risks they are taking are extraordinary. They believe they are making them on our behalf. Their skills, daring and accomplishments almost always go unspoken. They are truly Elite Athletes.
THE MOST IMPORTANT PART OF THE BODY
My mother used to ask me what is the most important part of the body. Through the years I would take a guess at what I thought was the correct answer.When I was younger, I thought sound was very important to us as humans, so I said, my ears, Mommy. She said, No. Many people are deaf. But you keep thinking about it and I will ask you again soon. Several years passed before she asked me again.
Since making my first attempt, I had contemplated the correct answer. So this time I told her, "Mommy, sight is very important to everybody, so it must be our eyes." She looked at me and told me, "You are learning fast, but the answer is not correct because there are many people who are blind." Stumped again, I continued my quest for knowledge and over the years, Mother asked me a couple more times and always her answer was, "No. But you are getting smarter every year, my child."
Then last year, my grandpa died. Everybody was hurt. Everybody was crying. Even my father cried. I remember that especially because it was only the second time I saw him cry. My Mom looked at me when it was our turn to say our final goodbye to Grandpa. She asked me, "Do you know the most important body part yet, my dear?" I was shocked when she asked me this now. I always thought this was a game between her and me. She saw the confusion on my face and told me, "This question is very important. It shows that you have really lived in our life.
For every body part you gave me in the past, I have told you were wrong and I have given you an example why. But today is the day you need to learn this important lesson." She looked down at me as only a mother can. I saw her eyes well up with tears. She said, "My dear, the most important body part is your shoulder." I asked, "Is it because it holds up my head?" She replied, "No, it is because it can hold the head of a friend or a loved one when they cry. Everybody needs a shoulder to cry on sometime in life, my dear. I only hope that you have enough love in your heart and friends that you will always have a shoulder for others to cry on, and one for you when you need it." Then and there I knew the most important body part is not a selfish one. It is sympathetic to the pain of others. People will forget what you said. People will forget what you did. But people will NEVER forget how you made them feel. The origination of this letter is unknown, but it brings a blessing to everyone who passes it on. Good friends are like stars ... You don't always see them, but you always know they are there.
~ Amar
The Marquis of Queensberry Rules
John Graham Chambers, a member of the Amateur Athletic Club (AAC), wrote these rules in 1865, but they weren't published until 1867, with the patronage of John Sholto Douglas, the eighth Marquis of Queensberry. Chambers intended the rules for amateur boxing matches, such as those conducted by the AAC. They weren't used until 1872, at a London tournament that was truly amateur: no prizes were awarded, and no betting was allowed. Prize fighting - that is, professional boxing for prize money - was generally forbidden in England, but the authorities allowed bouts under the new rules. As a result, they gradually began to replace the old London Prize Ring Rules, even in professional matches.1. To be a fair stand-up boxing match, in a twenty-four foot ring, or as near that size as practicable.
2. No wrestling or hugging allowed.
3. The rounds to be of three minutes' duration, and one minute's time between rounds.
4. If either man fall through weakness or otherwise, he must get up unassisted, ten seconds to be allowed him to do so, the other man meanwhile to return to his corner, and when the fallen man is on his legs the round is to be resumed, and continued until the three minutes have expired. If one man fails to come to scratch in the ten seconds allowed, it shall be in the power of the referee to give his award in favor of the other man.
5. A man hanging on the ropes in a helpless state, with his toes off the ground, shall be considered down.
6. No seconds or any other person to be allowed in the ring during the rounds.
7. Should the contest be stopped by any unavoidable interference, the referee to name the time and place as soon as possible for finishing the contest; so that the match must be won and lost, unless the backers of both men agree to draw the stakes.
8. The gloves to be fair-sized boxing gloves of the best quality, and new.
9. Should a glove burst, or come off, it must be replaced to the referee's satisfaction.
10. A man on one knee is considered down, and if struck is entitled to the stakes.
11. No shoes or boots with springs allowed.
12. The contest in all other respects to be governed by the revised rules of the London Prize Ring
All I Need To Know About Life I Learned From A Cow
Wake up in a happy mooo-d.
Don't cry over spilled milk.
When chewing your cud, remember. . . There is no fat, no calories, no cholesterol and no taste!
The grass is greener on the other side of the fence.
Turn the udder cheek and mooo-ve on.
Seize every opportunity and milk it for all it's worth!
It's better to be seen and not herd.
Honor thy fodder and thy mother and all your udder relatives.
Never take any bull from anybody.
Always let them know who's bossy!
Stepping on cow pies brings good luck.
Black and white is always an appropriate fashion statement.
Don't forget to cow-nt your blessings every day.
REPLACEMENT OF MOUSE BALLS
Actual memo that went out to a computer company's field engineers Re: Replacement of Mouse Balls.
about a computer peripheral problem
If a mouse fails to operate or should it perform erratically, it may need a ball replacement. Mouse balls are now available as FRU (Field Replacement Units). Because of the delicate nature of this procedure, replacement of mouse balls should only be attempted by properly trained personnel. Before proceeding, determine the type of mouse balls by examining the underside of the mouse. Domestic balls will be larger and harder than foreign balls. Ball removal procedures differ depending upon the manufacturer of the mouse. Foreign balls can be replaced using the pop off method. Domestic balls are replaced by using the twist off method. Mouse balls are not usually static sensitive. However, excessive handling can result in sudden discharge. Upon completion of ball replacement, the mouse may be used immediately. It is recommended that each person have a pair of spare balls for maintaining optimum customer satisfaction. Any customer missing his balls should contact the local personnel in
charge of removing and replacing these necessary items. Please keep in mind that a customer without properly working balls is an
HOW TO CALL THE POLICE . . .
George Phillips of Meridian Mississippi was going up to bed when his wife told him that he'd left the light on in the garden shed, which she could see from the bedroom window.George opened the back door to go turn off the light but saw that there were people in the shed stealing things.
He phoned the police, who asked "Is someone in your house?" and he said no. Then they said that all patrols were busy, and that he should simply lock his door and an officer would be along when available
George said, "Okay," hung up, counted to 30, and phoned the police again. "Hello I just called you a few seconds ago because there were people in my shed. Well, you don't have to worry about them now cause
I've just shot them all." Then he hung up.Within five minutes three police cars, an Armed Response unit, and an ambulance showed up at the Phillips residence. Of course, the police caught the burglars red-handed.
One of the Policemen said to George: "I thought you said that you'd shot them!"
George said, "I thought you said there was nobody available!"
(Supposedly a True Story) : - )
The World Health Organization Is on First
Among the coalition's list of most wanted Iraqi officials are man named Izzat Ibrahim (he's the king of clubs) and a guy named Mizban (nine of hearts). This led reader John Piro to imagine Abbott and Costello at a Syrian border checkpoint:Abbott: Now be on the lookout, Costello. We wanna find these terrorists.
Costello: Sure, what's their names?
Abbott: Izzat Ibrahim.
Costello: How do I know? I ain't seen him.
Abbott: I know. That's why we gotta find him. He and Mizban.
Costello: He musta been what, Abbott?
Abbott: No, not Hee Muzbin Wot. Izzat Ibrahim!
Costello: I told yuh, I ain't seen him! Is he Hussein's guy?
Abbott: No, he's Syria's.
Costello: I'm serious too. That's why I wanna find him.
Abbott: No, you don't understand, Costello. Syria's terrorist.
Costello: I know he's a serious terrorist. They're the worst kind.
Abbott: Now, if you find him, call the U.N. and get Kofi.
Costello: I got some right here. With cream and sugar.
Abbott: No, tell Kofi to get Yassir.
Costello: Yassir?
Abbott: Good. Now get going.
Costello: Hey Abbott!
