Saturday, February 16, 2019

The Creatures Inside The Box

Addiction manifests in many ways and has been an ongoing theme in my life. I've watched friends ruin themselves with it and I've had my own struggles as well.

This is a story I wrote as a teenager somewhere around the end of the 90s and found it one day while trawling through my backups and decided to produce it into an audio story in 2017. Producing audio stories was really fun, and I'd like to do more of it.


 
You lock the door, reflexively on your way past to bed and stop to reflect on the futility of it:

The monsters are already in here. If anything, you've trapped yourself.

Pause to consider this, and try not to panic. It will not be waiting for you under the bed, you know... you locked it safe inside that Box, with all the others - and then hid it in a place that nobody would want to go. Covered in sticky layers of academia.

Ugly little things. That's where they deserve to be.

Why don't they just go away?

Still, you can hear them, scratching to be free and every now and then you catch a glimpse of one, in the form of a flash of sweat at the sight of white powder or maybe the quick dark movement of your shoulder of awareness as in mirrors and shadows... drifting like smoke in the peripheral awareness.

After all these years one might have hoped for them to have died off by now, but, they have not.

And one knows why, of course. Knew all along, but did it anyways.

It was always informed consent and plausible deniability be damned.

That was the deal.

They are well fed. They were supposed to stay in that box but when nobody is looking you let them out and nourish them while you rehearse your lines, the lines you will inevitably recite when the moment arrives.. again and again.

It's not as bad as it seems - and that's not a lie!

It is much worse.

Brazenly, like a foolish child feeding the family dog in secret under the table right in front of everybody so she has room for desert.

You wait with your lines.

Friday, February 15, 2019

That Night In Toronto


The Tragically Hip was one of the first bands I ever saw live as a kid. There were really only a few of their songs I truly loved (Bobcageon!), they were mostly just the biggest Canadian band to come through town.

Many years later, I had the opportunity to see Gord Downie do his solo project in Vernon BC and was struck by what an artist the guy was.

Middle of the show, he rolls out an overhead projector (the kind we had in school when we were kids) and he lays down these hand drawn transparencies of waves and a boat and manually animates them onto the backdrop of the stage using his fingers, a ship at sea.

The crowd was stunned. I was stunned.

When he died, it was a sad day for Canada. We'd lost one of our greats - not just a great artist but a great advocate. A great human.

Recently I re-watched the stream of his last show, and in the last song he loses it, screaming and crying on stage in front of literally millions. The humanity of it hit me right in the feels.


My kids are much better at drawing than myself, but I wanted to capture that moment.

Drawn on a Samsung Note9.


Thanks, Gord. <3

Saturday, July 28, 2018

Mother's Day Doggo Shitstorm

So me and my three kids (11/13/14) spent the weekend with my GF in Kelowna and had both dogs (golden retriever & golden lab) with us, but forgot to bring doggo food, so we had to buy some that wasn't the usual kind that they get.

Can you see where this is going?

The dogfarts over Sat/Sun were bad, but it was time to go so go we did, dogfarts notwithstanding.

It was hot that day.. about 30 degrees. Keep that in mind. And the air conditioning in my old Explorer doesn't work anymore.

Approaching Vernon I asked my son "can you check and see if she shit back there because it sure smells like it" and he responded "I can't see shit!" LOL. Just some more wicked gas. Roll the windows down more.

So I stopped at Little Sleazers and grabbed a couple of hot and ready's, along with a stack of napkins.

Remember the napkins, they'll become important later.

We scarf our pizza in a haze of dogfarts all the way through Vernon. We leave town and have just passed the speedway when Ella pipes up in a panic:

"OHMYGODLILYPOOPEDONPETRA!"

I says "pardon?"

"LILY TOOK A LITERAL SHIT ON PETRA!! AND NOW SHE'S WALKING AROUND!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

I pull over at the next road and grab the stack of napkins, thinking I'll extricate the deuce from the SUV, but when I popped the cap I discovered that Lily hadn't shat upon Petra, rather, Lily had dropped the bombs and Petra had laid in it.

More accurately, Lily had taken a two-days-of-new-food-and-now-we're-on-a-car-ride-yay dump right in the back corner of the truck, and Petra had laid on it and ground it into the carpet, the corners, a utility hook.... I stood there dumbfounded for a second, realizing the scope of the disaster, and then sprang into action.

The stack of sleezers napkins would now become a kind of tarp. I patted it down on the warm shit, hoping to keep the idiots from tracking through it continuously and closed the hatch.

We had to just get home, post haste, and begin cleanup efforts there. In hazmat suits.

Thus we hit the road with an increased sense of urgency and impending feeling of doom. The windows were down - all of them - trying to vent the stench of dogshit. All this excitement got Petra wound up too, she was vibing off us hard with all the shrieking, so she decided to begin pacing around, eventually settling with her back end (the shit covered end) on all our gear.

My overnight bag, the waffle maker, Ella's pillow and blanket and so on.

All our things.

Nothing is sacred.

God is dead.

Petra had also taken an interest in Lily's handiwork and managed to get it on her face, which she then deposited conveniently on Ella's headrest while trying to give Ella poop cuddles.

We're going to have to burn the truck.

So by this point we're racing down the highway, past Circle Lake, everyone screaming as Petra spreads it around further, in utter bliss (see attached photo), the caricature of a shit eating grin.

All the windows are down, the smell is vile it's like she's taken a dump right in our mouths and the open windows have created a bit of stir within the vehicle.

Darwin's got his arm out the window when suddenly something flashes past my eyes - I swear I thought a bird had flown in the front window - and then SLAP! Is attached to Darwin's arm.

It's one of the shit napkins.

You've never heard such screaming. It was like a scene from a horror movie, like his hand was being sawed off by a killer, except his arm was fully extended out the window and plastered to his forearm was the first shitnapkin.

That's right, the FIRST.

Now my SUV is dubbed the shitwagon (or shitmobile) and we have a hurricane of shit napkins to swirl around the cab intermittently until we get home. Every time one takes flight and flutters around in our faces, everyone screams.

Within a kilometer of the house I brief the kids: "If you bail in the back, the dogs will climb over so stay still and I'll let them out the back and then NOBODY GO INSIDE we have to hose the doggos off."

More than an hour had transpired since the fabled deuce so it was dried and crusted deep into Petra's fur... the washing took about 20 minutes under high pressure.

But wait, there's more.

We don't have a place to tie the dogs up because they're free range doggos so the best we could come up with was a leash and attach it to.... the fence. That's already kinda falling down. Well, within a few minutes they managed to bring it down.

So Darwin decided to just attach Lily's leash to a pair of plastic garden furniture side tables, thinking she won't move.

Which she didn't... for like, five minutes.

But then she did.

And when she moved, the table moved.

And this caused her great anxiety.

So she began to run. BUT THE FUCKING TABLE FOLLOWED HER! IT'S CHASING ME PANIC PANIC PANIC!!

I'm standing on the front porch answering messages when suddenly I hear this unbelievable clatter and Lily goes tear assing right by me as fast as you've ever seen a dog run while towing furniture, around the corner and off into the yard, tables in hot pursuit. (See video).

I think the moral of the story is, don't change your doggos' food on a roadtrip.
x

Monday, February 20, 2017

Pink Shirt Day

Ah, Pink Shirt day. The day where I am expected to force my son into wearing a shirt he's extremely uncomfortable in as a way of showing him that bullying is wrong.

My son. <3

Thursday, January 21, 2016

A Dadbro's Guide to Doing A Shiton Of Laundry Like A Bawss

We have seven children, five of whom live with us. This means a lot of things:

1) Our monthly food budget is bigger than most people's incomes.
2) You never know when you're going to have to say something like "well there were three of you standing on the toilet with underwear on your heads - what did you THINK was going to happen?" or "Why is the cat in the fridge?"
3) There is a never ending tsunami of laundry to contend with.

Seriously. I had hopes and dreams for my life once, and they're now suffocated and buried unceremoniously knee-deep in striped little girls socks and ginch with skid marks that won't come out unless you burn them.

I forgot to take a "before" picture. Honestly, I was afraid to in the event that Martha Stewart or Super Nanny got a hold of my phone and called CPS on us.

It was only a week! A FUCKING WEEK!

So, I put together a little guide for the dudes in the house who are like "I dunno how to do that shit" because YOU CAN DO IT. You're not one of those douchecanoes who practices the antiquated gender-based dichotomy, you are an enlightened modern male. 

You just need a little brovice, and I'm here to lay it on you straight up because your poor wife/girlfriend/partner/significant other is gonna snap if they never get a break from it, and by the time we're done this exercise you'll understand why. Plus, it's mega points you can cash in next time you run a Pokerstars tourney.




Wash those mofos.

Don't worry about sorting colors - fuck that, that's for chumps. Just heave as much as is supposed to fit in there, slam the door shut before it falls back out, turn the sucker on and go have a smoke - you're getting shit done bro!

Note: I urge you to invest in a high-capacity, high efficiency set of machines because the cost of electricity is already turning me into the energy nazi, stalking from room to empty room turning off lights, crying out about how it's great that we left the light on for the mice and cutting long showers short because the price of fucking electricity is driving me to drink. I even named the little bastard who's doing it Henrick. "Is Henrick done in the closet!?" I bellow, clicking the light off angrily.

A new set will pay for itself in a year if you do laundry more than a few times a week.




Dump that shit in a giant pile on a couch or something that's not the floor.

The key here is, unless you're sorting it IMMEDIATELY, put it on anything but the floor, because kids are assholes that will walk all over their own clean laundry until it's filthy and then, in a panic in the morning before school cry hysterically that they have nothing clean to wear.  





 
Wash those mofos again, because you didn't follow through and within two days everyone dumped that shit on the floor and walked on it and probably the cat took a piss on it too because she's a total asshole like that.

Fucking cat.






Dump that shit in a giant pile on a couch or something that's not the floor AGAIN and this time follow through and get it done because you had more plans for your life than spending every weekend sitting cross-legged on the floor of the den up to your mantits in mismatched socks. 






Here's where the magic happens: first you flip those bitches the bird because you're about to fuck them up proper.







Don't get overwhelmed, it's like building a log cabin: you gotta fall the trees, cut the lengths, mill them down, etc. Many steps, do them one at a time.

Starting at at the top: adult stuff pile. If it belongs to you or your wife, throw it there. Then little girls pile. Below that, little boys pile, in the foreground we've got the household pile which means any cloths, towels, bedsheets, etc, and finally on the left you'll see The Sock Pile (more on that later).

If it's a sock, throw it on that pile and try not to get pissed off at the spongebob sock that's smiling at you like a lunatic. Don't worry, that fucking guy will get his. Just get your shit together.






Next, get your kids to come fold their own damn laundry - you're not their fucking slave! All they have to do in life is show up, eat food and watch other idiots play video games on YouTube (seriously, what's with that, that's the most boring shit I can imagine). You'll notice my younger son is wearing pants on his head. This I allow because it gives them the opportunity to goof off a little while still getting shit done. Yes, you can put pants on your head if that's what gets you going little dude.

Note I don't have a picture of my daughter doing this because I merely mentioned it in passing when they got home from school and she just went and did it, the little darling, whereas I had to stand there and supervise the boys or this little exercise would have taken the rest of the month.

It's also important that the girls fold their own laundry because I don't even know what half that shit is, let alone how to fold it or where the fuck it's supposed to go. One thing I saw was like a bolt of fabric that was sewn into a loop and had a flower stitched to it. DA FUCK IS THAT EVEN!? How do you fold it? These are not things that dudes ever have to learn, and girls will, so make them fold their own shit. But also the boys, because you don't need them growing up to be little bastards that leave their chicks to do all the laundry - you're modelling modern man behavior for them, that means taking responsibility for your own bullshit and just gettin' er dun.





Now for the socks. It's worth noting that this is the reduced fat version of our sock pile, it was once so massive that it took up an entire laundry bin. We even posted our Sockmare for sale on Kijiji, hoping someone would make some art out of it or something, but in the end I just turfed the seven thousand mismatched sockies because I got sick of finding them on EVERY FUCKING SURFACE OF THE HOUSE. This is the process I now use to prevent that situation:

Sort them into the basic colors - on the left, black, then grey, then girl's black (you can tell because even if they're black there will be little heart studs or dora the explorer faces or fucking frilly bullshit attached. Then girls white (boys don't wear white socks), then lay out all the basic colors ending finally with the technicolor nightmare striped seizure causing socks.

Even if, as in the case with "girls white", they have more than one color on them, I go by the basic color. Yes, it has a blue heel, but if you glance at it and it looks mostly white, then that's the pile to put it in. The goal here is to be able to lay them out side by side and make matching pairs, not fit them perfectly into a color wheel you're going to use to paint a picture from.






Once they're into basic color piles, start with the boys stuff. The reason is simple, it's a psychological trick you play on yourself because if you start with the girls you're more likely to jump up and flip furniture and leave to go have a rye and coke. Starting with the boys means you'll feel like you're getting shit done and will keep you motivated to get to the end.







A note about matching socks:

Just because they're mostly the same color does not mean they match. Don't be a dick. The socks above, although both from the Black Sock Pile(tm) are NOT A FUCKING MATCH DUMBASS. They are different sizes, made of different cotton and they are going to feel goddamn weird if you put them on your feet. Making them match is not about looking cool, nobody's gonna see your stupid socks under your pants and shoes, but you (or your little dudes) will FEEL that one goes halfway up the calf and the other is stuck at the top of your shoe. This will fuck your whole day up.








That's how you do it. Even if you always buy the same brand, your socks will have generations where some are six months older than others, which means they've had six months of sweaty fungus feet and washings happen to them and they'll be at different stages in their lifecycle which means they will FEEL DIFFERENT and again, that's gonna mess with your mojo. Take the five minutes to properly match them and you'll appreciate it all day every day.








 Check that shit out! That, my friends, is a drawer full of clean, matched socks. For the next week at least you will not have to scavenge for a pair, and that feels awesome. Take a moment to congratulate yourself, most of this shit wasn't of your creation but the reward, besides being able to walk around the room next to the laundry area without stepping on textiles is that when you get up you can slide your sock drawer open and there's a whole pile of awesome waiting to slide onto your footsies.









At the end, you'll have a few stragglers. What happened to their matches? Who the fuck knows, it's a mystery that's right up there with how the pyramids were made and what looking for eggs has to do with zombie Jesus rising from the grave. You have to live in the moment dude, and at this moment you have these leftovers. Put them in a seperete spot and if their match doesn't turn up by the the next time you go through this ordeal, THROW THEM THE FUCK OUT, otherwise you'll end up with another goddamn basket full of fucking bullshit socks that end up just spread over everywhere.







Where the fuck did THIS come from? I haven't had a kid who could fit this on anything put their nose for at least five years. This is not the time to get sentimental, however gentlemen, you gotta be ruthless if you ever wanna see your floor again so take just a moment to go "aww my babies were so little and cute once upon a time back when they didn't talk back or complain about homework!" and then stuff that shit into a garbage bag before anyone else sees it and decides they wanna have it cast on bronze or some similarly stupid shit.









This is the part we saved for last, because it is the most daunting, soul crushing bullshit domestic activity ever sentenced upon humankind: sorting girls socks. Again, it's worth reiterating that this is but a fraction of the fuckers we had a few months ago. There's that Spongebob sock again, and in all seriousness, fuck him and his condescending smile, he's obviously orphaned and will soon be joining his other homies in the trashbin.








I don't ever recall Pipi Longstocking staying here for a sleepover but this is exactly the kind of sock I would never buy my daughters. It looks like the wicked witch of the west's gay sister was a guest over Christmas. Interestingly, it was one of the only girls socks I could find a match for, so, for now at least, it survives for another week.









You're almost there! With them all laid out like this, it becomes a simple matter of spotting which ones are clearly unlike the others. These are the girls stragglers.








You may be tempted at this point to give up and just torch the whole place, collect the insurance money and elope to some place tropical, where everyone wears sandals all day and technicolor sockmares are not even a thing. Resist this urge! You are now on the home stretch, simply bundle them all up and put them into a bag-o-stragglers like you did for the dude's socks and if they don't have a match by the next time you get motivated/drunk enough that you think you can tackle the mountain of laundry that has sprung up in the past week, TOSS THOSE FUCKERS OUT.

You may be tempted to keep them as shop rags. This is a stupid idea dude, those are girls socks and as such are made of fancy composite materials that repel oil-based things you'll need shop rags for, and besides which also have buttons and flair and shit glued and stapled onto them. Turf them. Turf them and save yourself this weekly hell the following week.

Admittedly we have way more kids than most people, so if you have fewer and can keep up with this regiment every week, in a couple of short months you might find time to go fishing, hunting, growing your beard.. whatever makes you feel like the modern Grizzly Adams that you are, because you have conquered this shit show like a warrior and deserve a beer! Go have a beer!




Tuesday, January 19, 2016

Windows 10 - My Angst

This post began as my comments on a Facebook group which is largely populated by oldschool hacker geeks (moo). It seemed to resonate, so I copypasta'd it over here. It's more sweary than my usual style but given the audience was appropriate.



I have a very good laptop with a high end i7 and 16gb RAM. Installed win 10 hoping it would be the fix for 8.1 ... Slow as fuck. All the OS overhead to "improve user experience" made me want to slash my wrists. 

Know what "user experience" I want? A FUCKING FAST ONE. 

That's why i paid $3k for my machine, not so Windows could hog all the resources doing whatever the fuck it thinks it should do, but so shit responds immediately. I want my applications to leap up at a touch like frogs in a dynamite pond. 

Threw Ubuntu on it, and huzzah. Even running win 7 in a VM under Linux host with half the memory assigned as was on the physical board the apps are fast. I can have five VMs running simultaneously, doing updates, 40 tabs open in Firefox, zero fucks are given it just cruises along. Boot back into winX ..... Lag lag lag. 

Tweaked to fuck and still plods like a donkey. 

I'll take my fast as holy hell over derpspeed any day. An OS is supposed to be a host to whatever it is you need to do, not the experience itself. Especially if that experience sucks.

I just don't get it, it bothers me actually, because my monster lappy (it's an Asus ROG) is better than 98% of the laptops on the market so if my user experience is scabby testicles then I reckon throwing it onto a smelleron M, centrino or similarly underpowered budget CPU should turn it into a bowl of Jello. 

I spent two days throwing 30 years of computer nerdery at it. It was defeating. Two decades ago I had tweaked DOS to the point I could have my SBLive driver & MSCDEX called at autoexec & config.sys and still have 634kb base memory available, I know how to tweak shit, what the actual flying fuck is wrong with this OS that I can't make it not suck? 

Disable all the "enhancements". Fidget services and autoruns .. two days later, it was just always grinding.

I know, it's searching my hard drive and indexing things, and I have a shit ton of things to index. But that shit really grinds my gears, that my puter is gonna sacrifice its ability to perform like the high performance piece of tech that it is to blow all its clockticks on digging through my underwear drawer then send god knows what (the pcaps were alarming) to god knows who burning all my bandwidth in the process so that some "microsoft affiliate and/or associate" somewhere I'm just supposed to "trust" isn't actually looking at the competitive information for my work (and that their system is secure so that if it IS ever breached that some untrusted blackhat doesn't have free access to all my docs) so that they can deliver better advertisements to me.

How about NO.

I paid for the machine, and I pay for the power that shoots those electrons through the machine, and I pay the interwebnet bill and all of those things are supposed to be so I can learn shit and communicate, not so some dickhead can tell that I really like Nine Inch Nails and maybe I should check out this band that claims to kinda be like them.

Nope nope nope.


*** The above was posted 30 October 2015. Jump forward two months to mid January 2016 ***

Well, it happened. I gave in. I re-installed Windows 10 on my laptop, and consequently five other machines so far that I take care of.

On my lappy, the reasoning was simple - I did a kernel update on my Ubuntu install that broke everything and rather than spend the next week unfucking it with a hammer, I pulled my VM images and did a reinstall. Ok, that doesn't explain why I'm on a Windows 10 machine right at this moment, it's mostly because I was dual-booting Win8.1 with the Linux and I just couldn't suffer the 8.1 anymore so thought I'd give WinX a second chance.

I'll admit, it's better than 8.1 - but that's kind of like saying getting kicked in the balls is better than having your dick chopped off... neither solution is something I would normally opt for, if given a third option such as having a clean Win7 install.

Even now, as I type, there is for some reason so much going on that me typing into a text box on a webpage in Firefox with a half dozen tabs open is too much for it to handle, it's like typing into terminal screens back in the dialup days: type like a maniac then sit back and wait for that 1200BPS bitflinger to catch up. 

So why did I install it on all those other machines?

I'm a bit of a conspiracy theorist. There is very good reason, for I know for a fact that, for example, OEM "recovery disks" include a shit ton of bloatware that must be removed or, over time, they'll phone home and invite all their friends and even with that sucker just sitting there with no operator input the damn thing will eventually burst into flames under the load of its own suck. 

And, I know that Microsoft does nothing out of pure benevolence.

Come on, think about it - it's one of the biggest companies in the known universe, it's software runs three quarters of the computers on the planet, there's hardly a single human being whose miserable life isn't somehow affected by their product. They didn't get to be this way by giving their shit away for free, there has GOT TO BE a reason they're "giving away windows 10 as a free upgrade". The must be.

Obviously, the telemetry is a big deal. And frankly I don't think we've even begun to touch on the true capacity of that telemetry data, there almost certainly is some kind of back door that is, so far, completely hush-hush. There's not a doubt in my mind that the three letter achronym LEAs have somehow mandated that M$ slip it in there, given the direction of discussion regarding encryption of late, and it would certainly help explain why they're giving it away, or rather, that they're not giving it away, it was just paid for out of some black budget to give the cowboys at our collective spy agencies a leg up in their games.

So again, it goes back to WHY OH WHY WOULD I DO THIS TO MYSELF AND ALL THOSE INNOCENT MACHINES!

I had, in the matter of a week and a half, every one of those stable Windows 7 installs suddenly go sideways - strange, hard to kill spyware suddenly appeared on the kitchen computer, which literally does nothing but sit there and look up recipes and play youtube playlists over the speakers so my wife can jam out while she's cooking for the fam. My mom's computer, that she only ever uses for email and spider solitaire was suddenly riddled with nasties. Even the kids computer, which was locked down with UAC suddenly forgot how to driver its devices. Bedroom computer suddenly can't computer. 

Then that Win10 popup in the bottom, like the old MS Word clippy.

"heeeeyy man, I see that your computer is suddenly come down with the fail. I betcha upgrading to your free copy of Windows 10(tm) would fix that!"

And, it did.

Yes, I'm saying that Microsoft is deliberately crippling Windows 7 machines in order to force their humans into giving in and installing Windows 10.

Luckily, I could really care less if MS knows that we watch YouTube in the kitchen or Netflix in the chill... they probably already knew that. However, when it comes to my actual work computers, there's no fucking way I'm letting it go on there.... so here's what you do!

1. Install a copy of Windows Server on a VM (whatever flavor you want, I had a copy of 2008 laying around so that'll do).
2. Create a domain.
3. JOIN THAT DOMAIN!

You'll stop getting the offers to update as MS then assumes that you're covered by some kind of legit IT dude who will rage if his garden suddenly blossomed with a new operating system, and your existing computers won't suddenly get sick and die by remote code execution - hey, let's call it what it is.

/rant

Saturday, August 29, 2015

The Impact Team's Red Herring

The spotlight of the Ashley Madison hack has in recent days been turned on the Twitter persona "Thadeus Zu" (@deuszu) after Brian Krebs noticed that the account had tweeted about the dump 12 hours before Wired, Gizmodo et al. reported on it, supposedly when only journalists and security researchers were in possession of the data.

At first glance it seems like a great connection. I would add that people, especially hackers, often give themselves pseudonyms that have some underlying meaning. Thadeus (properly, "Thaddeus") is a Greek name meaning "Courageous Heart", Zu is slang for "cool" and was also an Evil Storm God, and deus obviously means God as well. Plus, if you take the name out of context, it could also mean "THA COOL GOD". We're batting three for three here, so it's likely that there is a deeply moralistic motivation behind the group.

There has been a lot of discussion about morals and ethics surrounding the leak, to be sure.

As Krebs pointed out, the AC/DC references, the cryptic one-sided conversations coincidentally timed around the time the story was about to explode... it all lines up neatly. Too neatly.

Mr. Krebs' eloquent article was engaging and without question contained some quality sleuthing. As an investigator myself, I enjoyed seeing the OSINT connections being made like the script for a modern Poirot mystery.

It's for that same reason that I can't help but feel that it all kind of smells. Of fish. Red herring, to be precise.











OPSEC. Sure, hackers have been known to compromise operational security to satisfy their egos by bragging publically to up their scene cred. Truth be told, 99 times out of 100 that is what ends the lulz for them. (See Zoz's DEFCON 22 talk "Dont' fuck it up"). And no doubt damn near every hacker who isn't in hiding and even civilians who have even the faintest interest in hacker culture (not to mention the 30 or so million exposed users) now knows the name "Thadeus Zu", so if that was the goal then mission accomplished.



Of course it remains a possibility that they are deliberately remaining topside to taunt Avid Life Media, the victims, the authorities, and now the legion of bounty hunters hammering the public transform servers at Paterva while salivating over the cool half million prize for whoever untangles the mystery, confidently cocky that they have burned all their phones and are behind seven proxies... deus knows it wouldn't be the first time. Yet if that's true it is so brazenly stupid that I can't really bear to swallow it.

There's some ~102,000 tweets coming from this account - that's an awful lot of OSINT to leave laying around. Nevermind the fact that LEA's can subponea Twitter, Facebook and Google's records to triangulate IP's and eventually cellphones and hone in on them, the sheer volume of publically available open-source information is staggering.



So here's the $500,000 question that's just begging to be asked: WHY?

It only makes sense if you accept the premise that @deuszu is essentially taunting everyone with "come find me" with more than a hundred thousand public tweets to mine through and puzzle over and gossip about. This would have had to have been a conscious decision, agreed upon by all members, made years ago to contravene the most basic principles of operational security, which tends to be paramount if one values their freedom.

WHY? Why oh why hold their group discussions in a public-facing medium when they could have just as easily conferred over a private IRC channel or even AIM for that matter?
Furthermore, any mechanic will tell you that the more components you put in a vehicle the greater the likelihood the machine will fail sooner rather than later, so with multiple members in the group why would they agree to point the spotlight directly at themselves, trusting implicitly over vast geographical distance that none of the others had "fucked up", as they say, even once (see "Sabu").

If one reads past the AM leak drama, a consistent theme of hacktivism is clear in their timeline - even interspersed between the tweets about the leak are links to UNICEF stories and various other human rights travesties happening around the world right now. Obviously, they consider themselves to be fighting "the good fight".



If they're fighting the good fight, why are they treading so dangerously with such swagger, with so many breadcrumbs and so many potential points of failure to endanger their ability to continue to do so when there's so much more to be done?

The answer is obvious... they aren't.

Although an argument could be made that @deuszu is obviously a morally - perhaps even religiously (if their name is to be given any weight) - motivated group and therefore exposing the cheaters of the world is a worthy cause, my gut tells me that it's simply not the case. The causes they seem to care about are much more fundamentally moral than the complex questions which arise when someone is asked "why does someone even consider cheating on their spouse", as so many articles have already covered.

Frankly, it's small potatoes.

Unjust wars, clean water, refugees, illegal detentions, poverty, endangered and exploited children... just keep scrolling. Prior to all this and even throughout, the group seemed to concern themselves more with what philosophers would call the "simple moral issues". The black and white ones. Nobody of moral character is going to argue that children ought to live in danger. Nobody of moral character is going to say that war for oil is a good thing. But exposing every person who ever had an account at Ashely Madison has raised many conversations about the ethics of such a breach.

I've done a lot of investigations, and never with this level of public intelligence overhead - usually the target is not-so-technically savvy and has no idea they're even being watched and caught in honeypots until well after the jig is up, and those targets still had more situational awareness and OPSEC than @deuszu has shown around the AM "affair", if they are in fact the Impact Team.



Obviously, they're not.

It's made for an entertaining diversion, but I think it might be time the spectators and speculators gave up on the notion that something this big would be so easy to figure out... the real investigators already have.

That being said, my gut also tells me that Mr. Krebs is correct in his assumption that "if they didn't do it, they know who did". Almost certainly not personally by any of them but indirectly. This has all been a well-orchestrated counter-intelligence campaign devised by Impact Team designed to throw investigators off the scent for a while and willfully participated in by @deuszu for the #lulz, and everyone's fallen for it.. if you will permit me:

hook, like and sinker.