The T-zone

Well it's evil, wicked, mean and nasty
(Don't step on the grass, Sam)
And it will ruin our fair country
(Don't be such an ass, Sam)
Well, it will hook your sons and daughters
(You're so full of bull, Sam)
All will pay that disagree with me
(Please give up you, already lost the fight, alright?)

Dumbass: Episode 2, 6.5 megabytes, 512kbps

I love you too.

That's right, Nirvana. That's where my brain currently resides. My brain exists on a different plane than the rest of my body, see.

I love everyone and everything. It's different up here... blasting through the vast reaches of psychedelic headspace. My fingers feel really fucking huge. They're too big for the keyboard. It's OK, though, because they still work.

I can't believe I never realized until now that my brain is completely separate from my body. Fucking woah, that was a metaphorical slap in the face. My neurons are sizzling trying to process that one, oh boy. As far as melon-scratchers go, that's a honeydoodle! I think it was Flanders who said that.

What I'm trying to say, is this.

This is what I am trying to say.

*ahem* I cleared my throat, wasn't that profound?

What I'm trying to say is that we should all just get along, because it would make everything a whole lot easier.

Shiite, I'm on a different plane than the rest of you, who am I kidding. You're all way the fuck over there, and here's me, and I'm meandering about on this grid of all these things that are just like fucking woah, and you don't even think that I make sense, that's how obscure my thought process is to the outside observer, well fuck you, my wrists are tense.

I used the word "fuck" way too much in this post, boy, let me tell you. If I were a fish, my name would be Frankie, because I'd be a textbook example of alliteration. There's a fucking empty jar of martini olives next to me, why is that there? I don't drink martinis and I don't eat olives. Someone drank the olive juice, though. I think it might have been my brother. Hell, I don't even think I've mentioned my brother here before. Well I actually have a brother, and he drank all the juice out of the martini olive jar. I was going to say "jar of martini olives" but then I remembered there were no martini olives in the jar. There should be more commas in that last sentence. I don't know why I didn't punctuate properly.

My eyes are flanging all the fuck over the place, and let me tell you, I'm noticing a lot of things, like how I have the tendency to take a sentence and just run with it and ramble all over the universe without thinking about what I'm going to say first. This would be a prime example. I can't keep my brain from moving, I think it's trying to escape. Maybe that should have been a semicolon. I don't know. My punctuation glands are malfunctioning. I'm flying through psychospace and it rocks. Hardcore. Yes it does. At the speed of cheba.

I just had to edit a sentence in that paragraph, and it sucked. I hated it. Do you know which sentence it was? Then I'm not going to tell you! I am all there is. Universal truth. Negative, primitive, limited. I think that's from a song by a cool band called Emerson, Lake and Palmer.

Let's ponder that. What if I were all there was? What if I am all there is? What if I am were the all was there were is to be and in the future, if what? Holy shit, my face is spinning. That would be weird, because I wouldn't be writing this right now. I'm turning around in circles, somebody help. 360 degrees, yessir. Dread!

In context, I was referencing the second sentence with the sixth, I think. I don't even remember where this train of thought was going. It had something to do with how totally obscure and random you probably think I am. My brain is inflating, expanding, growing, just totally changing its shape so fucking fast you would not believe it, but I keep spinning around in circles and that doesn't help anything. The keyboard must be moving with me. See, I'm keeping SOME sort of grip on reality.

Damn, Palmer is just tripping all over the beat, what a drummer. Now I'm turning in the opposite direction, let's see if I can control it.

Nope, can't control the direction I morph in. I said morph, that was the wrong word. He stopped tripping all over the beat, but then he rolled right back into it. Nobody describes music with the right verbs. You can trip on a beat, you can roll on it, you can even surf. Hell, you could probably even spin, jump, groove, flange, smack, split, and pass... all sorts of crazy shit. Hippie crack.

I keep turning in my chair to make up for how I keep turning, but then I remember that that's only happening because I turned in the first place, which is where I stop making sense. Am I turning? Am I tuning? Am I a tuning fork, or turning on a fork, like that spaghetti pasta? My elbows are stretching back into infinity and it's making me slightly uneasy. "Ford, you're turning into a penguin. Stop it."

I don't even know what to say next, but if I did, I'd mangle it horribly, that's how totally obscure you think I am right now. I keep saying things like that, but I never say anything to justify it. I can't even figure out how to make that make any sense at all to anyone but me, even though I know it makes perfect sense but you don't, and you're probably confused as hell right now. If I could impart this knowledge to you, you'd probably live a better life, but I can't, because it's just not the way things groove, and you're stuck with the one you have now, goddamn, I wish I had a popsicle.

Not only can this knowledge not be expressed in words, it can't even be expressed in letters. Not even in pictures or music, that's how goddamn confusing and profound and shit it is. Oh my word. Yes indeed, that's how crazy it is.

What knowledge am I even talking about? I know, but I can't tell you. It's impossible. I'm trying as hard as I can. It has something to do with thought processes, I think. My thought process looks really obscure to you, the outside observer. I keep talking about how obscure it is, but I never actually say anything to the point of being obscure, up until I go off on this discourse about being obscure about never being obscure, and that's where it gets confusing. I don't even remember what I was trying to tell you earlier. I do, but I don't, you know?

Still tripping all over the beat. Jaco Pastorius on bass. I hope I spelled that right so as not to anger the musical entities.

I probably sound like a fucking idiot to anyone but myself right now; does that make me a fucking idiot? No, sir, it does not. This is a completely rational train of thought, it's just that you can't comprehend it, because you think differently. What was I saying? Oh, yeah, eat more garlic, that's about it. Ludicrous speed, captain.

Clap. If you're reading this, just stand up right now, and clap. Good things will happen. It's something you must do. Just do it. Do it, just do it. Now. Stand up and clap so good things may come to you and give you knowledge and wisdom and power and all that good stuff.

I'm galloping around the Universe right now but I don't even have to leave my chair. Goddamn, I don't want to end this post. I want to keep going and tell you all how terribly wonderful things are up here, but it just isn't working. I can't even tell you why I said half the things I did. I can't even tell you why I started writing. I don't know why I'm here. Nothing I want to say can be said in words you would understand. It's crazy. If you've ever dexed before you know what I mean.

I can't stop going, but at the same time, I can. All good things must come to an end. The advice I impart to you is one of them, although I haven't really given you any, have I? Well, at least you should know by now that I am profoundly enlightened and intoxicated. Entheogens are the way to go here. Not enlightened OR intoxicated, enlightened AND intoxicated. Look up "entheogen," you'll see what I mean. THAT'S how come I can trip really fucking hard and remain so incredibly articulate. If I weren't smart, this would have sounded really fucking retarded.

It probably already does.

I am infinite.

So you're in trouble.

Whether you trafficked thousands of dollars worth of heroin into the country or just got caught out past curfew, talking to police sucks. They are sneaky, manipulative bastards most of the time. I know, you're thinking, "what the fuck, all the cops here are idiots, they don't know what they're doing." I've got news, sweetheart: that's what they want you to think.

Police are trained in field interrogation. They will use every single Jedi mind trick in the book to try to squeeze information out of you. Here are a few bullet points to keep in mind:

• If they threaten to arrest you, they won't. If they really had enough information to arrest you, they would have already done so.
• Police are allowed to lie in order to get information out of you. Not only that, they're damn good at it.
• If they aren't arresting you, they can't detain you.
• Aside from patting you down for weapons, they can't search your person or property without probable cause. If you have your hand in your pocket, that's probable cause. Think.
• Common sense. Don't look at the ground too much, don't shift your weight from one foot to the other, don't lick your lips or bite them, don't let your eyes get shifty.

If you're being detained by police, ask if you are under arrest. If they say no, simply bid them good day and walk off. If they say yes, tell them you want a lawyer and you want it to be noted that you went peacefully.

If things get heated during interrogation, say "I don't feel comfortable saying anything else without the presence of a lawyer," and shut up. You don't EVER have to talk to cops. You don't even have to tell them your name, but it's usually a good idea to do so. Innocence is irrelevant. They will be perfectly happy to arrest an innocent person if it means resolving the issue more quickly.

If it's something stupid and you don't have a prior criminal record, just fucking cooperate. If you got in trouble for making too much noise on New Year's Eve, tell them what they want to know, let them take down your name, and think before you act next time.

Chances are, though, that it isn't that sort of thing. If they show up at your house, don't even confirm that you are who they think you are. Keep one phrase in mind:
"I will neither confirm nor deny that allegation."

Cops will bullshit you as much as they need to in order to squeeze information out of you. If they say "oh your friends already told us everything blah blah blah," they are lying.

THEY ARE NOT YOUR FRIENDS, NO MATTER WHAT THEY TELL YOU.

Go off on tangents. If they ask where you were on a certain date or time, talk about quantum physics and how you could have been at any point in the Universe. If they tell you they are your friends, ask to borrow $50. If they refuse, they're not really your friends, are they?

Ramble. Talk about as much useless shit as you possibly can. Tell the truth about irrelevant, useless things if you want to, but don't tell them anything else. If you are under 18, they can't talk to you without a parent/guardian or a lawyer in the room.

You never have to talk to police or investigators. If they try to search you, tell them you don't consent to a search of your person or property. Don't let them into the house. When they knock on the door, step outside to talk to them. If they ask to come in, refuse. Don't confirm anything, but don't deny it either. Answer a question with a question. Be uncooperative, but don't be illegal.

Remember: if they aren't arresting you, you're free to go.

"I don't remember."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Am I being arrested?"
"Am I free to go?"

Be as uncooperative as possible. You will not be punished for it. By the time they finally get a rock-solid case against you, it will be months, maybe even years, after you get busted. If you're being detained, demand to be let go, and unless they're arresting you, they have to let you go.

Be as uncooperative as possible. You have nothing to lose, NOTHING.

NEVER trust cops. EVER. NO EXCEPTIONS.

More information here.

Breaking it down into episodes makes everything much easier to manage.

Plus, it means that I don't have to keep putting off the final publication because we just made one more cool clip that I want to squeeze in.


Dumbass: Episode 1, 512kbps, 17.6MB

trippyDlite: Did you know that if you eat BBQ chips and then drink Sierra mist .. it tastes like you just drank orange juice.

theantipope14: IM GOING TO THE SEVENTH RING OF HELL BITCHES
Sir Haxx A L0t: dude
Sir Haxx A L0t: tell Satan I said hi
theantipope14: that's the 9th
Sir Haxx A L0t: oh yeah
Sir Haxx A L0t: fuck.
Sir Haxx A L0t: well
Sir Haxx A L0t: send him an e-mail.

REAL old school.

You have ever, at any given time, taken more than 10 pictures of yourself in 5 minutes or less and posted them all on the Internet.

Bonus points if you got mad at the one person out of 50 who posted that called you ugly.

1. Listen to Good Charlotte.
2. Call me up and tell me that you couldn't find out how to fix your fucking computer, "so you'll have to do it for me."
3. Get between me and caffeine and/or sugar.
4. Ask me a stupid question without using Google first.
5. Tell me that Wikipedia doesn't count as a credible source.
6. Bitch about my clothes.
7. Bitch about my hair.
8. Actually, just bitch about anything.
9. But especially my clothes. I hate fucking tools who shop at Hollister and think they surf. YOU LIVE IN FUCKING NEBRASKA. THERE ARE NO OCEANS IN NEBRASKA. YOU DON'T SURF. SHUT THE FUCK UP.
10. Shop at Hollister.
11. Shop at American Eagle.
12. Shop at Aeropostale.
13. Shop at Abercrombie.
14. Shop anywhere that has the balls to charge for anything with their name on it in massive letters.
15. Be for women's rights, but against women being drafted.
16. Use AOL...
17. ...and complain about it every other minute, because it's not like that holds up the conversation and makes me impatient or anything.
18. Use "gay" as an insult. Yeah, that movie was really gay... I bet it has sex with other movies of the same genre... fuck you.
19. Re-enact scenes from "Monty Python and the Holy Grail," because everyone loves to hear the Bridge of Death scene in a shitty English accent from someone who only knows half the lines.
20. Write "..." as an entire line in IM conversations.
21. talk lyk dis lol cuz u kno its so kool to write lyk ur 13 n have no friendz...................o wiat..........u are lol
22. Also, replace "th" at the beginning of a word with "d." It's not like reading "dat ting was da shyt lol," makes you look fucking retarded.
23. UsE aLtErNaTiNg CaPs.
24. Brag about what a "1337 h4x0r" you are and spew balls to everyone to sound impressive. No, you have never "hacked into" the CIA's top secret files, because THEY'RE TOO IMPORTANT TO BE STORED ON A COMPUTER WITH A NETWORK CONNECTION, SHUT THE FUCK UP.
25. Pretend you're depressed for attention.
26. Be a total stranger, send me an IM asking "who r u?????" and get uppity when I don't answer.

Fuck you.

I did it for the first time today and found it to be remarkably easy. Microsoft makes pwnage easier and easier with each new OS.

NetBIOS is pretty much just a fancy new way to share files over a network. Nevermind the fact that we've been doing just that since the very beginnings of ARPAnet (in fact, that's what ARPAnet was DESIGNED for), we here at Microsoft decided we need to code a very unreliable system that gets really slow because it PARSES THE FUCKING COMMENTS IN THE LMHOSTS.SAM FILE.

Ahem.

So anyway, it lets users share files over the Internet as well, which will be its downfall.

In Windows XP SP1, filesharing is enabled by default, but the firewall is NOT. Oops, bad move, maybe that's why XP boxen are compromised within 12 MINUTES of having that Cat5 jacked into them!

To check whether or not a computer is vulnerable, either port scan it or just run nbtstat from the command prompt. Nbtstat is faster. Type nbtstat -A and then the target's IP address, or nbtstat -a and the target's hostname.

I prefer nbtenum to nbtstat. Google for nbtenum to find a reliable download. It makes it that much easier to tell if filesharing is enabled.

If you see anything about filesharing listed in nbtenum's report or you see <20> in nbstat's output, you're in luck. Here comes the part that takes some actual work: adding our poor luser to your lmhosts.sam file. That should be located in C:\I386, but if it isn't, use the search feature, dumbass.

Open it up in Notepad and delete all the lines that start with a #, because they only slow you down. My entire lmhosts file is only two lines, and one is a comment reminding me how to format the entry for a computer I want to hax.

Do this:
127.0.0.1 luser.hostname.here #PRE #DOM:127.0.0.1 #INCLUDE

Replace 127.0.0.1 with the victim's IP and luser.hostname.here with the victim's hostname (if you don't know what I'm talking about I don't know why the hell you're still reading). Save the file. Now just go into My Network Places and you've got all the victim's shared files at your disposal - it will either show their IP address or hostname as a network place.

I'm sure you can think of all sorts of nasty things to do. Enjoy yourselves and don't get caught.

All the information contained within this file is for informational purposes only and I've only HYPOTHETICALLY hacked NetBIOS.

If you don't know what to do with this, I don't want you using it.