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Journal Journal: later

I grab an almost full pack of Benson and Hedges from the cluttered pine desktop, and apply flame from my faithfull stainless steel Zippo.

It's an old Zippo. There are crazy scratches and dents from the constant falls from the desk to the floor embedded in it's shiny surface.

I run it on shellite which I buy by the liter from Woolworths in town. The flints sometimes are replaced by Bic flick.

I have semi-important mail.

The Internet

Journal Journal: Linux work station, vs windows work station.


Morning gang. /me rolls off the sofa 60 seconds ago, fires up the espresso machine conveniently located on a small table next to the sofa, rubs the sleep out of his eye's and jiggles the mouse to awaken his FC3 work station. /me is *prepared*.

A single click launches an instance of Evolution V2.02. Less than a second later, the P4 2.8 work station spits out mail in glorious text/html.

With a Gig of ram, the experience is close to what is expected first thing in the morning. I want this stuff now. My tall white and blue box delivers.

This machine is swift. The O.S. is fine tuned. Evolution snaps open, and I start to read about things I need to know.

I skim through the Qmail logs, and /var/log/messages.

I notice that the kids in Korea are still trying to brute force my other boxen, and are to stupid to read the error messages with which I present them.

How dumb are these pricks? When it it obvious that my servers do not accept logins from port 22, they just hammer on, glibly expecting to crack my boxen. Fucksticks.

Still, it restores my faith in the stupidity of the average Korean. What was that? You question my unPC attitude toward my northern bretheren? Perhaps you'd like to read my logs for a week.

Sigh. With an explosive WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSHHHHHHHHHHHH, the espresso machine let's me know that there is excellent coffee ready to be consumed.

A right is not what someone gives you; it's what no one can take from you. -- Ramsey Clark