Author: Karel Kerezman

  • Past, Present, Future – Round Thirty-six

    PAST: Juice, milk, or soda?

    PRESENT: Coffee, tea, or cocoa?

    FUTURE: By land, by air or by sea?

    “One of these things is not like the others, one of these things does not belong…” Oh well. Perhaps I’m overly fond of these “free-interpretation” PPFs, but they’re fun dammit!

    Anyway. You know how to play, folks. Leave a comment with your answers or the link thereto, and when you link back please use the following handy-dandy always-current permalink: http://greyduck.net/ppf/

    Thanks once again!

  • The triumph of marketing over perspective.

    I unpacked our new GM’s computer from CDW, and instead of the usual unmarked keyboard box I found this:

    Wow. Could we be a little bit more full of self-importance, please? Sheesh!

    *smirk*

    And in the “oh, these are the problems you wanna have” department, it turns out that I have to burn a whole week’s worth of vacation hours on top of what I’m already spending to do OryCon and take an extra day after Thanksgiving weekend. Since I can’t take an entire week off or Very Bad Things will happen, it looks like I’m going to be taking a whole slew of three-day weekends…

  • Gator IS Spyware

    So it’s not as though I really need to point out or drive traffic to the little-known website called Slashdot, but every now and then I just can’t help myself. Take this thread, for instance:

    Gator Forces Site To Remove ‘Spyware’ Label

    There’s a lot of good vitriol in there, but this tidbit really caught my eye as a piece of above-and-beyond humor:

    Dear Gator,

    Gator is Spyware, you f***ers. Spyware. Spyware. Spyware.

    Please send me a nastygram. My career is stalled, and I could really use the publicity.

    Love,

    Wil Wheaton
    Linux weenie who doesn’t even use your crappy SPYware.

    PS- It’s spyware.

    He’s right, you know. Gator is spyware. The best removal tool for all such malware is Spybot Search & Destroy, just so you know.

    That, or don’t run Windows. *smirk*

    (Yes, Mari, I linked to Wil Wheaton. Yes, this is one of the signs of the forthcoming Apocalypse.)

  • Continuing the “death” line of thinking…

    Thanks to Dawn for this quiz…

    I will be struck down by a meteor!



    How will you die? Take the Exotic Cause of Death Test
    What’s less likely then being struck by lightning? That’s right, a meteor strike!
    Just your luck!

    That’s okay. She’s going to be crushed by a giant duck.

    Don’t say it. Don’t even think it. Hush, you.

  • Uncluttering My Inbox

    I run my own email server. I’m still convinced this is a good idea for a die-hard geek like myself, but it does have some downsides. For instance, I have an additional layer of complexity to deal with when fighting spam.

    One weapon in my arsenal of spam-fighting techniques is the daily throw-away email address, as seen in the upper-right corner of this website. It works pretty well, all things considered. Only twice have I received spam at an active daily alias. (You almost have to admire the nimble little spammers. And by “admire” I mean “eviscerate.”)

    Letting the address harvesters gather those throw-away aliases, however, comes at a cost. For every message a spammer sends to a now-outdated alias, my server then has to try to successfully bounce that message to sender. Since the vast majority of sender data is faked, you end up with a double-bounce scenario where the attempt to bounce a message bounces back to the postmaster of the domain the spam was being sent to.

    Yep. I get to see the spam anyway, except now it’s buried inside of “delivery failure” notices. How nice. As a for-instance, I can go to bed at 11pm right after checking email for the night, wake up at 8am and find upwards of 50 emails titled “Failure Notice” in my inbox.

    Some of you are probably way ahead of me on this one. “Gee,” I realized this morning, “Why don’t I just create a new administrative email account and change the ‘postmaster’ alias to point to that instead of to my real email address?” (The cleverer geeks among you will be wondering why I ever pointed ‘postmaster’ to my main personal account instead of going this route in the first place. Oh, how I wish I had a good answer for you…)

    And so I have done. The difference is positively astounding. I’ve increasingly been in the habit over the last few months of checking my inbox compulsively because I knew that with every click there would be a new “failure” or two or three to erase while I waited for real mail to show up.

    The only email I now receive is actually addressed directly to my email account. Some of it is still spam, but almost all of that is tagged by SpamAssassin at the server level and filtered accordingly by my mail client. I’m overjoyed by the lack of tedium involved in checking my email!

    All I have to do now is break my compulsive mail-checking habit. That, and convince people to actually send me email…

  • I’m not dead… I feel fine…

    I know, I know. Other than the occasional meme, work rant or silly link, I haven’t been posting much here. Call it an “off month” if you like. Maybe my subconscious wants to rest up before tackling NaNoWriMo.

    Yeah, that’s a workable excuse. *snicker*

    So what’s really been going on in my life? The short version would be: Work Eat Sleep Sadness Laughter Doldrums Sex Frustration Disappointment Hope Lather Rinse Repeat.

    The AS/400 project is completed at last, Marconi and his entourage have moved to Seattle, and we’re now gearing up for reconstruction at the office so we can move KWJJ and KOTK into our facility. Work, in other words, is pretty much back to normal: Always in flux, always the same.

    Things at home are tense, most days. You don’t easily or lightly dismantle a twelve year relationship. There’s more than enough bitterness and frustration to go around, and it goes around and around quite a bit. The kids are doing well enough, but then again I haven’t moved out yet.

    Outside work and the home there’s not much I’m ready to talk about yet. This isn’t the time, and isn’t yet the place. There’s considerable hope for the future, but that future will be some time coming yet. I’m the lucky one in this regard, at least, since I have friends here in town who are looking out for me.

    Now all I have to do is the most difficult thing I could ever imagine: Packing up and leaving my family. It may not happen soon, but then again it might. And it hurts like hell, and scares me to death, and I still need to do it. I can’t live in limbo, I just can’t. It’s as if I died months ago and my body doesn’t know it yet, you know?

    The next trick will be learning to live with myself afterward. If I can.