Author: Purple Wyrm

40 Ways to Spell ‘Cummilroy’

Tune in tomorrow for 40 ways to spell ‘Jukambal’!

Cam-ell-eri, Camel-Duahi, Camelleri, Camilerei, Camlerey, Cammealroy, Comleroy, Cum-milroy, Cumilri, Cummeroy, Cummilroy, Gamilaaray, Gamilaroi, Gamilray, Gamilroi, Ghummilarai, Gumilori, Gumilray, Gumilroi, Guminilroi, Gummilray, Gummilroi, Gunnilaroi, Kaamee’larrai, Kaameelarrai, Kahmilaharoy, Kahmilari, Kahml Duhai, Kamilarai, Kamilari, Kamilaroi, Kamilary, Kamileroi, Kamilrai, Kamilroi, Kamu-laroi, Kamularoi, Kimilari, Komleroy, Koomilroi.

I hope this has been enlightening. Please come again.

Image (S)Hack

At the very least you could have posted your manifesto in *text* guys.

(I would like to apologise in advance for this post – it’s full of ill informed ranting. This is nothing unusual of course, but in this case it’s pretty bad. Hey, why don’t you go and read some other, more sensible post instead? Please?)

Apparently overnight the image hosting site Image Shack has been hacked by a group of people calling themselves “the Anti-Sec movement”. They’ve replaced (presumably) tens of thousands of images hosted on the site with a manifesto opposing the “full disclosure” method of publicising security flaws, and threatening “through mayhem and […] destruction” to force the abandonment of the same.

Well.

On the one hand I have to agree with some of their points. Full disclosure does have its share of problems – the main one being that the black hat hackers and the software companies get the same information at the same time, starting a race to patch the issue before it can be exploited (a race that the black hats usually win). That said, I do have some issues with the Anti-Sec manifesto as it currently stands.

(Edit: As it turns out that’s actually wrong – full disclosure policies almost always have a delay built in so that the companies responsible are told first and get time to patch the hole before the black hats find out about it. So Anti-Sec are basically talking out of an orifice other than their mouths.)

The first is the problem of security through obfuscation. Anti-Sec seems to be suggesting that if you discover a security hole you should shut up and sit on it so that no one can exploit it. This would work fine if it could be guaranteed that you’re the only person who would ever find it. This is, of course, ridiculous. Someone else will discover the same exploit and they may not have the same, upstanding community attitude that you do. The sensible thing would be to report the flaw to the company responsible so they can patch it before the knowledge becomes public. Anti-Sec may well support this method, but their manifesto says nothing about it.

(Edit: Actually they’re actively opposing it.)

The second problem I have is with their methodology. Let me quote…

It is our goal that, through mayhem and the destruction of all exploitative and detrimental communities, companies and individuals, full-disclosure will be abandoned and the security industry will be forced to reform.

How do we plan to achieve this? Through the full and unrelenting, unmerciful elimination of all supporters of full-disclosure and the security industry in its present form. If you own a security blog, an exploit publication website or you distribute any exploits… “you are a target and you will be rm’d. Only a matter of time.”

This isn’t like before. This time everyone and everything is getting owned.

Right. Well, opening a debate is one thing. Opening a debate and then forcibly silencing everyone with a dissenting viewpoint is completely another. And when that forcible silencing is achieved via threats and “unrelenting, unmerciful elimination” it’s basically terrorism.

So, it’ll be interesting to see how this thing plays out. If indeed it does play out and Anti-Sec don’t just vanish into the digital woods they suddenly emerged from like so many other online ‘movements’.

They’ll like it in Seoul

Letting demonic forces loose in the capital of the UK for fun and profit

Ok, so I’ve been thinking (oh-oh) lately about the not terribly successful MMORPG Hellgate London.

For those unfamiliar with it (ie: just about everybody) it’s set in a future London after demons have taken over the Earth. You play as a member of resistance group fighting against the demons with both high power weaponry and magic, and taking shelter in the Underground (which was apparently constructed with demon resistant properties by a farsighted conspiracy of Freemasons).

The game didn’t garner much in the way of praise and the company that made it has now gone bust – although some servers are struggling on in South Korea (is there any game that doesn’t do well in South Korea?). Nonetheless I’ve always thought the basic concept was kind of cool (I am after all a devoted Londiniophile).

Anyway I was thinking about how some games (exploiting the various location technologies present in phones and other handhelds these days) are starting to take advantage of geolocation. And it struck me – how cool would a cut down version of Hellgate London be if you actually had to play it in London?!

Think about it. Your character is sent out to battle some Demons at Trafalgar Square. In order to complete the quest you actually have to physically go to Trafalgar Square. You then sit there outside the National Gallery, fighting demons on your handheld until the quest is complete. Afterwards, when your character needs to rest, trade and replenish supplies you have to physically go to an Underground station (or at least stand outside one – making people pay for train tickets to play the game seems a little harsh).

Now naturally this approach would have some problems. The market would be restricted to people actually in London (although you could probably set up games located in plenty of major cities), there’d be plenty of gamers who wouldn’t be interested in tramping around the streets when they could be sitting inside, sucking down doritos, and the National Gallery might not want hordes of nerds standing outside playing with their iPhones. But for those people who got involved it would be an extra level of immersion – superimposing the game world over the real world in a fairly unprecedented way.

So that’s my idea. I’m sure they’d like it in Seoul.

A Grand Night!

You mean you didn’t figure it out?

So, the other night it was my 20 year high school reunion (which is weird, since I graduated in 1993, but hey, whatever). The entire year (which seemed a lot bigger that I remembered) was assembled in the school gym, waiting for the festivities to begin. After a few minutes the Principal appeared on stage and after some preliminary remarks told us to pair up with our dates from the ’93 graduation ball.

Now this was easier said than done for me, as my date for the graduation ball had fled the state rather than attend with me. As it turned out however she was at the reunion and swung by to say hi (she’s blonde now, go figure). She wouldn’t pair up with me, but that cool by me since we’d been set up by the school in the first place, so I just wandered around nonchalantly, more or less daring the staff to ask why I was by myself.

A few minutes later the staff swung into action and got us to sort ourselves into those ridiculous house lines they used to make us sit in during assemblies. Once we were thus arranged we were made to sit on the floor. The Principal launched into a speech, which was quickly interrupted when he noticed a guy in the green house who (for some reason) had a large, bronze, Chinese incense burner sitting next to him, pumping out a considerable amount of smoke.

The Principal leapt of the stage and – flanked by several staff members – charged towards he of the incense. Unfortunately only half way across the gym he collapsed with what was obviously a massive cardiac arrest. His supporting staff (helped by several parents who were sitting at the back of the gym) rushed to his aid, and he was quickly taken out to an ambulance. We former students – sensing trouble – tried to scatter, but a group of us were corralled by that insane maths teacher I never liked who charged us with tracking down the ne’erdowell whose incense incapacitated out beloved leader.

We started searching around the Gym. After a quick word with the Principal’s son (who I must say didn’t seem overly concerned about his father, being much more worried about his prematurely grey hair) I headed outside to both seek the culprit and see what had changed in the last twenty years. Here I ran into one of the Damiens and the Black Douglas, who were similarly admiring the additions – which seemed chiefly to consist of several staircases, some confusing walls and some excitingly landscaped mounds and pits. We were just exploring these when some joker decided to turn on the water, revealing the pits to be ornamental ponds. I struggled my way out and found myself on the oval, so I headed around to the back entrance of the gym – along with a bunch of other former students.

Despite the distraction of the large radio telescope array that had sprung up on the far side of the oval I noticed some of my comrades in arms from my days back at the SGC in the crowd. Realising that they would be just the people to help track down the incense man I grabbed them and explained the situation. Happy to be united back into our unit we (that is to say myself, Colonel Jack O’Neil, Daniel Jackson and Teal’c) proceeded to the back entrance where the sentry on duty told us entry was prohibited. Our protests that we were the famous SG1 cut no ice until we proved that Teal’c was a Jaffa by pointing out the large scar left on his forehead by the removal of his First Prime insignia. This satisfied the guard and he let us through.

I left the other members of SG1 examining the rear wall of the gym while I checked out the stage. The speaker arrays were extremely loud and I had to block my ears to prevent severe hearing damage. The musicians (by means of gesture) indicated that they were wearing special, German manufactured earplugs. I flew up to the walkway behind the stage, but it was occupied by some girls who knew nothing about the incense man, so I flew back down.

In the main body of the gym a fete was being set up. My mother turned up and explained that she was running my brother and father back home, but she’d come back later to pick me up. I said that it was fine, and I’d find somewhere to crash locally. I decided to take a flight around the gym (aerial surveillance and all that) but the overhead bunting from the fete tents was so thick I couldn’t find a safe place to take off from.

I think I woke up at the point…

Goli Maar!

It’s from a film called “Donga”. Make of that what you will.

This (Goli Maar by Tollywood superstar Chiranjeevi) is ridiculous, but somehow I can’t seem to keep away.

Listened to without the video clip it stands up fairly well – it’s even (with its pounding beat, repetitive lyrics and seemingly random sound effects) a bit reminiscent of Sigue Sigue Sputnik.

That’s all I’ve got to say đŸ™‚

Rex Mortuus Est

The end of an era…

Many years ago – back in the 50s in fact – a promoter by the name of Lee Gordon arranged an Australian tour for Little Richard and a bunch of other American rock’n’rollers. He booked the artists, booked the venues, did the publicity and then had a ridiculously tough time selling the tickets.

Why? Because no one in Australia could believe that the people they listened to on their records could exist, in the flesh, on an Australian stage. They lived in the far off, almost other-planar land of America. The idea that they’d visit Australia was as ridiculous as saying that you’d booked Santa Claus or Superman to appear. It had to be either a bunch of impersonators or some kind of scam – so no one was willing to pay to be ripped off.

Back in the early nineties, when the Big Day Out festival was just getting started, the big guest was Marilyn Manson. This was at the height of his “Antichrist Superstar” period, when he was the biggest, larger than life, most controversial, most frightening personality in music. And he was going to appear at Bassendean Oval, the run of the mill, slightly run down football field that I went past every day on the way to and from school.

As I remarked to my friend Mike this was as if Batman or Spiderman was going to appear – Manson seemed just as much a fictional character as anything from the world of comic books. And yet he was going to strut his stuff in our very backyards. It was downright surreal.

The reason I mention this is the sudden death this morning of Michael Jackson.

Jackson has been around my entire life, always there in the pop cultural milieu. In the 80s he was huge – people laugh these days when he’s called “the king of pop”, but back then he truly was. He was a brilliant song-writer and composer with string after string of hits, most of which still stand up today.

Then he started to go weird. He descended into increasing bizarreness and his music became increasingly unlistenable. He became “Whacko Jacko” – at best a complete weirdo, at worst a dangerous pedophile. His latest excesses and eccentricities were a staple of the tabloids. And as a result – without my realising it – he migrated from the part of my brain that catalogues real people into the part that catalogues fictional people.

So to hear that he’s dead gives me the same sense of surreality that Marilyn Manson’s visitation did, and that those 1950s Sydneysiders had when they were offered tickets to see Little Richard. It doesn’t make sense. How can someone who was never really real die?

So let’s all raise our glasses of Jesus juice to a unique individual. Thanks for Billie Jean at least dude.

I did not invent it…

Yes, it’s Harry Potter doggerel. I can only apologise. To everyone.

…I wrote it down in order to get it out of my brain.

When you’re walking home from work and an appalling piece of doggerel appears fully formed in your brain like an apparition of a rhinestone studded, cheeseburger scoffing Elvis, what can you do except write it down somewhere to get it out of your head? So here we go (brace yourself – this is a bad one).

Mouldy Voldy, afraid of death,
Terrified by his final breath,
Show him a boggart and he will behold,
His very own body, lying there cold,
Riddle, oh Riddle, oh Riddle named Tom,
His father a muggle, his mother long gone,
Hater of half-bloods because he’s ashamed,
That the blood of a muggle runs strong in his veins,

I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry.

Close Bitnami banner
Bitnami