2766 lines
106 KiB
Plaintext
2766 lines
106 KiB
Plaintext
Ubiquitous - Issue 1, File 1:
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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(Please read the README.1ST file before proceeding.)
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Editor: mE!
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Welcome to Issue 1 of Ubiquitous, a new Australian E-Zine
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aimed at the computer underground. My reasoning for producing yet
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another E-Zine is because I'm sick and tired on seeing zines
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(especially Australian ones) go up and down all the time never
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usually producing more than one or two issues. How about the
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American scene? Phrack never gets published any more, neither
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does CoTNo or a million others I could mention. WHO CARES anyway
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the underground scene is shot to shit and recent zines are simply
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a reflection of this state of affairs. So am I here to save the
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day? Yeah right!! Not without feedback and input from the rest of
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you I'm not; a magazine like this (being irrelevant of who the
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fuck is publishing it) could have the potential to give the
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underground a kick in the arse and bring back the free thinking
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inquisitiveness and antiauthoritarian sentiment of days where
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groups like the Legion of Doom ruled supreme.
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So what is it all about?
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=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
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First of all what does Ubiquitous mean? Hmmm! The best way
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to describe that is to quote the Australian Pocket Oxford
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Dictionary:
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ubiquit | y n. omnipresence, being everywhere or in
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an indefinite number of places at once; ~ous a. [L (ubique
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everywhere)]
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Ok so that's the dictionary meaning so what does it mean in
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terms of the Computer Underground? Well just like the government
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is watching us from every angle, seeming to be everywhere, this
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is the same tactic we need to keep a little freedom for
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ourselves. Our presence needs to be UBIQUITOUS!! If you don't
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understand what the fuck I'm on about, then forget it and just
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read on.
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The Zine will cover general Hacking and Phreaking related
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topics, but won't simply stop there. I hope to cover how we, and
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the government and many other entities have an effect on society,
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and indeed the whole of humanity. It will also stray from H/P
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related matters and even the computer underground occasionally,
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looking at the broader effects of the human races seemingly
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desperate insane desire for power over each other. With that
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said, lets look at what it will NOT include. There will be NO
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racism or pathetic attacks on other minority groups. This zine
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will attempt to operate without fear or favour towards people of
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any fucking nationality, sex, race, colour, religous belief,
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preference of sex, computer, or breakfast cereal for that
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matter!! And NO I'm not trying to be fucking politically correct,
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I just want to open this zine up for everyone. Ok secondly, there
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won't be any bullshit conspiracy stories (about the NSA selling
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cows testicles in sausages etc!!) which have NO reasonable
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backing. I don't mind opinions of such things if it can be backed
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up with QUALITY evidence, but none of this bullshit X-Files crap
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OK!! Finally I will try to avoid defaming any person or entity
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without evidence or without stating that the comments are of my
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opinion and not necessarily of provable fact. You will get the
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general gist of this zine as time goes by and you will know the
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general structure of it and what it stands for. (Free thinking,
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privacy, and freedom of information/speech.) OK , on with the show.
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(I assume you have read the README.1ST file. If not READ IT NOW!
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you are not authorized to read this unitl you do!!)
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Editorial:
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=-=-=-=-=-=
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Doesn't it make you puke all this bullshit that seasoned
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computer users have to put up with. Remember the old days (when I
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say old days, I merely mean around 3 years ago!!) when the
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Internet was a self regulating, non central entity? Remember how
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you could read news and not have to wade through a whole heap of
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right wing or religous bullshit just to find the articles you
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wanted to read? How about the fact that the TCP/IP connections
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weren't absolutely clogged up with the millions of new lamers who
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use the net now. Or should I say TRY to use the net!! I can
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remember the good old days of ftp'ing a file and receiving it the
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same day!! How about when there were no crappy trendy terms
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like: "Information SuperHighway!" (oh god I think I'm gonna be
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sick!!), or "Surf the Web" or every word having fucking "CYBER"
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in front of it!!
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Remember those days? I do. I remember the time when AARNET
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was what it actually claimed to be: The Australian Academic and
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Research Network. Now its run by Telstra who are in bed with the
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likes of Bill Gates and Rupert fuckhead Murdoch. That free
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network which encouraged freedom of speech and ordered anarchy is
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gone. What has replaced it is a mess of bungling losers and
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commercial service providers (ISP'S) who don't know the difference
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between telnet and telenet!
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You'd better remember those days, cause we won't see the likes of
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them again. Information is trendy and not the free commodity it
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used to be.
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C O N T E N T S :
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=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
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1......Introduction, Editorial, Contents. (This file you dork!!).
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2......Cray claims firsts in New Parallel T3E Machine.
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3......Zapping free phone calls.
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4......A warning to all Internet users.
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5......Simple shit on UNIX.
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6......Your guide to free vending machine services.
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7......Commandeering Optus Voice Mail Boxes.
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8......An Introduction to Australian telephone exchanges.
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9......Classic Texts - The Bastard Operator from Hell.
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10.....The End (Final Comments!)
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- End of File -
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Ubiquitous - Issue 1, File 2:
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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(See http://apt.usa.globalnews.com/unigram for more details on
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Unigram.X) about the new Cray T3E parallel processor. In brackets
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are comments by myself :-)
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Cray claims Firsts in New Parallel T3E Machine.
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=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
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Cray research Inc has duly unveiled its new Cray T3E
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scalable parallel processor and claimed $92m (fuck!!!) in advance
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orders for the system. The Digital Equipment Corporation Alpha
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RISC-based machines scale to 2,048 processors for a theoretical
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peak performance of 1.2 TFLOPS (jesus fucking christ!!); the
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entry price is lowered and upgrades can be made in smaller
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increments than with the T3D. It comes with a new Unicos/mk Unix
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System V-derived operating system and GigaRing scalable
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input-output and networking channel, which will also be moved
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into Cray's current and future supercomputers and even it's
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business servers. Cray claims Unicos/mk is the first truly
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scalable operating system: the single operating system has a
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series of microkernals which are distributed across the system.
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It is designed to provide a single image and coherent view of all
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system resources for users and system administrators. Within the
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operating system, local "servers" process requests local to each
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processor, while global servers process system-wide requests.
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Where other vendors require a new copy of the operating system to
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be installed on each new node when a machine is expanded,
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Unicos/mk only needs to be told the new number of processors. The
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GigaRing channel is described as the key component in the
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high-speed input-output and networking subsystem, with "virtually
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unlimited" capacity to store and move data into and out of
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systems at a peak speed of up to 128 Gigabytes per second,
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supporting Petabytes - millions of Gb - of disk capacity.
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The GigaRing, based on the Scalable Coherent Interface, is a
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bi-directional, dual-ring channel providing high-bandwidth
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connections in excess of 800 Megabytes per second. Users are able
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to add input-output capacity to the system as it is needed. It
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supports distances of 35 feet between nodes, 600 feet with an
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optical channel option. The T3E machines range in price from
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$900,000 (A bargain!!) to $45m (not sure whether this is Aussie
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or American Dollars!). As it did with the T3D, the Pittsburgh
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Supercomputing Center will get the first T3E, in March.
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(Yeah and I'll bet the fucking NSA are next on the bloody list!!
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Bastards!!)
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- End of File -
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Ubiquitous - Issue 1, File 3:
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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This is a file I typed up years ago. It still works and most of you should
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know about it but I included it for those of you who don't.
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Zapping Free Fone calls:
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Now I suppose you are all thinking - not another
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fucking lame text file on getting phree fone calls, well
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maybe, maybe not. But the method I am to discuss I have
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never seen mentioned b4. Could be that I have been looking
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in the wrong places but whatever the reason I decided to
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type up this text phile in the hope that it will benefit
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all humankind.....
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.....except TeleScum!
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To do this all you need is a spark zapper. Something
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like the gas igniters found in a household gas hot water
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service. Basically they need to produce a heavy voltage to
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work. They are available at places like KleenHeat gas.
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Ok, so you've got the thing, what now? Well
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unfortunantly this only works on the old green fones so you
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gotta keep a sharp eye out for the bastards as they are
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getting rarer and rarer each day. The best place to find
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them is in poorer areas, especially industrial areas. Don't
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waste your time in tourist type places.
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Once you have found your green fone open the door and
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enter closing it behind you as the sound of the zapper can
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attract attention. Now lift up the reciever and listen for
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the dial tone. Now these zappers can hurt like fuck if they
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send a good dosage of current through you so be careful
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that NO PART of your body is touching anything metal -
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especially your arse. In fact try to keep as far away from
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anything metal at all. If you happen to be a fat bastard
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then I suggest you get someone else to do it or just don't
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be a wimp and put up with it - fuck man when you eat so
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much that it is preventing you from phreaking then you've
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got problems bud.
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Right enough of the bullshit what the fuck am I
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supposed to do with this bloody zapper thing? Well I'm glad
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you asked. It's a bitch at first and you may not get it the
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first time but you have to zap the living shit outta the
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fone, by putting the end of the zapper on the mouth or ear
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piece and going sicko with the thing. (Be careful holding
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mouth piece. Don't come into contact with the metal rivet
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on the other side).
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You may hear the fone go clunk if that happens then
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hang up the phone and start zapping again. Keep zapping
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until you don't hear the clunk. (Around twenty zaps is
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required but it varies from fone to fone). Now, holding the
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fone up to your ear, press the hang up lever, it should NOT
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do anything. If you still hear the dial or engaged tone and
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does not make that beeping sound and hang up, then you can
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congratulate yourself on having defeated the fone's coin
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system! :-) Just dial your number (Local,STD,ISD) and you
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will get through no sweat. Whenever you want to hang up
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dial a number (dosen't matter which one) and release the
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dialing ring VERY SLOWLY. You should get the dial tone
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back. When you have finished with the fone, just hang up
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the fone and about ten seconds later the phone will go
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clunk and will be back to normal. IT'S THAT EASY!
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Some words of warning:
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First of all most fones hold a maximum of
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approximately eighty bucks depending on what coins have
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been used on that particular fone. It is going to look a
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bit odd to Telescum when that fone has registered as making
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hundreds of dollars worth of fone calls. They may first
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blame it on a computer error, but if it keeps happening
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they will raise more than a few eyebrows and may have the
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fone traced or an STD ISD bar put on it. The safest bet is
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to move from fone to fone. There was one dickhead who was
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phreaking those blue fones who got a phree ride down to the
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local pig shop when he used the same fone too often and the
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feds watched the fone! (To phreak the blue fones stick a
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piece of metal small enough into the keyhole in the side of
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it and turn it - the fone should now dish out phree calls!!)
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Secondly if you use the same fone often enough the
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fone will not clunk back to normal and anyone can dial the
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dialer really slowly and get phree calls further alerting
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Telescum that something is wrong. Or stupid people might
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find the fone out of order a report it to Telescum. One way
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or another it is not a good idea to overuse the fone so
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these things can even happen.
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How it works:
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How the phuck can zapping the shit out of a fone get
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you phree calls I hear you ask. Well that's easily answered.
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Relays and switches are very sensitive to large currents;
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what normally happens is the coin falls and the weight of it
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activates a switch which grants a credit of X dollars. When
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you induce a huge current it forces the relay switch over
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at high speed totally by passing the fone's coin system
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putting the fone at the mercey of the phreaker. Pretty
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fucking neat eh? (Note this process works with some arcade
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games as well!)
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Well I hope you find the phile of use. Have fun and
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for fuck sake don't get caught. If you do, don't lag your
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collegues in. (As a rule of thumb if you aren't under arrest
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say NOTHING if you are demand legal representation!)
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mE!
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(BigBrother is watching you!)
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- End of File -
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Ubiquitous - Issue 1, File 4:
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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New TCP/IP software (mainly sendmail) that can identify a user on a
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calling system. Typed by mE!
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(I will write more about this when I find out more!)
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W A R N I N G
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=-=-=-=-=-=-=
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NEW TCP/IP sotware developed, is now in use that can not only determine
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the originating host, but the fucking user as well. This is a scary
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thought for all hackers. I first came across this in the sendmail program
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(telnetting to port 25). I typed "HELO" as you do and instead of getting
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something like: hello <myhost.mydomain.edu.au> pleased to meet you. I
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recieved something along the lines of:
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hello <MYUSERNAME@myhost.mydomain.edu.au>
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Fuck me they can identify the actuall user as well as the host. I tried
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this from a VAX mind you!! NOT as common as unix on the Internet but the
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remote system still managed identify me!! I am still looking into how they
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do it, but I assume the called host telnets back and does a user enquiry
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on your host and finds out who on the system is telnetting out to that
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host. (When you telnet to a host your user info is NOT SENT so therefore
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it has to connect back to the host somehow to be able to get this info.)
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I will write a bigger file when I find out more about this. Till then, watch
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what the fuck you do and where you do it from. IE don't go and hack the
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living shit out of anything around. (If you are using a hacked account then
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that is a different story, however for fuck's sake put a bit of distance
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between you and the site (both local and remote sites if possible!!).
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In other words divert your calls, use outdials, university terminals,
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other phone lines, blue box, or if possible go though a few x.25 or internet
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outdials. Basically if you use your common sense you should be cool.
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mE!
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- End of File -
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Ubiquitous - Issue 1, File 5:
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Simple Shit on Unix - By Joe Lunchbucket:
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=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
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Unix is a pretty standard operating system. You can find a unix implemenation
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for just about any platform, ranging from your basic IBM PC, to a state of
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the art SUN Workstation. These different systems have little in common,
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except for the operating system they use: Unix.
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In general, unix systems are all the same. The same set of basic commands,
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the same software, and the same routine for hacking them. The following is
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a short list of some of the most basic and obvious flaws/openings in unix.
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Not all of them will work on your system - maybe most of them won't. The main
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thing is that some of them _will_.
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ECHO
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~~~~
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The echo command is usefull for sending messages. When a user is logged in,
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he is assigned a device for screen output - usually reffered to as a tty.
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These devices are located in the /dev directory, and are often left writable
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to the general public. Pick out an unsuspecting user (preferably someone you
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can keep an eye on), find out what tty they are on (through finger or ps),
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and type the following:
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~.> echo "Big Brother is Watching You." > /dev/ttyxx
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Where ttyxx is the tty they are on. If it works, you wont see anything at
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all. What they will see is the message "Big Brother is Watching You."
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on their screen regardless of what they are doing.
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If this works, the next one may be more interesting...
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CAT
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~~~
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Cat is the basic command to send a phile to the screen. Cat can be used just
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like echo, only instead of sending one line, it send a whole phile! Create
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a test phile by typing something like this:
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~.> cat - > temp.txt
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Message from root@mysystem (Root Operator) at 12:34pm:
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Your account is about to be suspended - please log out immediately or
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face criminal prosecution
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^D
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The control-D finishes of the phile. Then just send the phile to some dumn
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fuck victim like so:
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~.> cat temp.txt > /dev/ttyxx
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They will see the message, shit 'emselves and if they are nice little people,
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log out. :-) See my point? You could just as easily start a war between
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two lusers by doing something like:
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~.> cat - > /dev/ttya1
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Message from joe@mysystem (Joe Lunchbucket) at 12:34pm:
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Hey! Fuck you! I just fucked you mother! I hear you are a fucking wimp, so
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why don't you come over here and prove it, you chickenshit bastard!
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^D
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With a bit of luck, the guy on ttya1 will go over and beat the living shit
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out of Joe. (Note: Works best if you pick a little nerd for Joe, and a big
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dude for the recipient...)
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UTMP
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~~~~
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The phile /etc/utmp is a wonderful phile. This is the place that the system
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keeps track of who is logged in, where they are on from, etc... If you were
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to perhaps change the contents, you could do lots of interesting things.
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Usually, this phile is set so that only root can write to it, but if it isn't
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a simple C program will assist you in altering your login. You can even do
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such things as change what finger sees you as to, for example root. Then,
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send a write message to somebody, and they will think you are root! Simple
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as that, really. The best message to send is when you pick out someone you
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don't like, set yourself up as them, then do this:
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~.> write root
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Fuck you - I am a hacker!
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^D
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Root isn't well known for his sense of humor in such matters... The program
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itself is pretty easy, but won't be included in this article for the sake of
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space. Suffice to say, if you have read/write privs to the /etc/utmp phile,
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you can do this sort of thing.
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Eg: If the protection bits (the left hand column from ls -al) look like:
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-rw-rw-rw- root root 1 1179 utmp
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Then you have read/write privs.
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Anyway, there are heaps more but I am tired, so bad luck. Maybe more next
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time. Till then, enjoy, and remember: Information wants to be free, so long
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as AARNET can charge us for it!
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-- Joe Lunchbucket
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email: private@not.fucking.likely
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(You didn't really expect an email address did you?)
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- End of File -
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Ubiquitous - Issue 1, File 6:
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Ripping Food and Drink Vending Machines - in Australia:
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-------------------------------------------------------
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By mE!
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I suppose most of you have heard about getting free
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shit from vending machines one way or another, well I
|
||
will go into detail about a usually guaranteed way of
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||
scoring big time. But first:
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||
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There are many ways to rip a machine some of the
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||
more popular ways are as follows:
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||
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||
On a food machine you can....
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||
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||
....rock the shit out of it until all the chip packets
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and candy bars fly out of their little holders into the
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chute where you (the dirtball who pulled the filthy low
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||
down scumbag of a trick) stock up on the goods. :-)
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||
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....stick a coat hanger into the slot and swipe the food
|
||
by hooking it out into the chute where you stash it all
|
||
into a bag.
|
||
|
||
....cut the glass with a glass cutter, pulling the piece
|
||
you just cut out with a suction cup, and sticking your
|
||
hand into the machine and nicking whatever takes your
|
||
fancy. (This will attract a shit load of attention
|
||
especially with the glass cutter making the loudest
|
||
fucking noise - well it seems like it's loud when you're
|
||
trying to get in to a machine ;-) ) It is best to do this
|
||
in a quiet place where no bastard is looking!
|
||
|
||
....stick quick hardening clay in the keyhole wait a few
|
||
minutes then turn the bastard. If someone comes it is easy
|
||
to crush the thing!
|
||
|
||
NOTE: There are some new food machines which fork out
|
||
chocolate bars and shit like that which operate like the
|
||
drink machines so you won't be able to apply to above
|
||
methods on them. (Although you might get lucky by
|
||
applying method 1 or method 2 but I rather doubt it.
|
||
|
||
On a drinks machine you can....
|
||
|
||
....stick you arm up the chute and empty the machine
|
||
manually.
|
||
|
||
....put an object like a piece of wood right up into the
|
||
chute out of sight and leave it for a while, returning
|
||
later to collect your hard earned drinks ;-) (this is a
|
||
real bastard of a thing to do so don't do it - ok ;-)
|
||
|
||
|
||
Those were a few ways of getting a rather cheap meal
|
||
but none of them are guaranteed. Either you find you've
|
||
been wasting your time to no avail, or you end up on the
|
||
wrong side of a door with iron bars on it at your local
|
||
friendly pig shop for the night.
|
||
The method I will now describe in detail to you is
|
||
guaranteed 90% of the time and is always the most
|
||
profitable.
|
||
|
||
|
||
The Salt Water Method:
|
||
----------------------
|
||
|
||
This method is well known of but lots of people
|
||
claim that it doesn't work. I can assure you it works and
|
||
it works well; providing you follow the method laid out
|
||
here, you should get a reasonable success rate!
|
||
|
||
Stuff you will need:
|
||
|
||
1.25 Litre PLASTIC soft drink bottle.
|
||
Screw on plastic bottle top
|
||
Blu Tac
|
||
Drinking straw - McDonalds ones are the best.
|
||
Knife
|
||
Water
|
||
Salt
|
||
Rubber Glove
|
||
Towel
|
||
|
||
Cut the straw in half. Next cut a hole in the top of
|
||
the cap with the knife allowing the straw to just fit
|
||
through without being squashed. Wrap the Blu Tac around
|
||
the straw on both the inside and out side of the cap
|
||
sealing it. You can check if it air tight by screwing the
|
||
cap onto the bottle and blowing in the straw. If no air
|
||
escapes through the sides then you have done well. (Note
|
||
the cap will be hard to screw on the first time due to
|
||
the blu tac being on the inside of the cap. However it
|
||
putting the blu tac on the inside of the cap seals it
|
||
better). You now have the bottle set up - now all you
|
||
need is to make up the salt water.
|
||
|
||
Mixing the Saline Solution:
|
||
|
||
The idea is to get as much salt as possible dissolved
|
||
into the water without having any salt left over on the
|
||
bottom of the bottle. Hot water will dissolve the salt
|
||
faster and dissolve more of it than cold water (this is
|
||
called a super saturated solution). However if you let
|
||
the water cool down again you will find that some of the
|
||
salt appears on the bottom of the bottle which we don't
|
||
want to happen. So it is important to keep the water as
|
||
hot as possible. (Note it is better to mix your own
|
||
saline solution than using sea water).
|
||
|
||
What to do now:
|
||
|
||
Take the bottle full of saline with the cap and
|
||
straw screwed on tightly, to your vending machine. Stick
|
||
the straw into the money slot and squeeze the bottle. You
|
||
will hear the water trickling inside the machine and will
|
||
the the "Please use correct change" light flashing on and
|
||
off a few times. Next you should hear the sound of the
|
||
machine short circuiting. Money should start pouring into
|
||
the coin return slot - however it doesn't always do this
|
||
straight away. Now it is time to get the drinks or food.
|
||
Put the rubber glove on to protect yourself from being
|
||
electrocuted. Wipe the outside of the machine dry with the
|
||
towel. Now start pressing the buttons and wait. Items
|
||
should start falling be it food or drinks. Squirt some
|
||
more saline solution into the money slot and the drinks
|
||
sometimes fall without you having to push the buttons!
|
||
However the more water you pour in the more likely you re
|
||
of getting money to pour out from the coin return slot.
|
||
Once the money is coming out and the items are falling -
|
||
DON'T put any more water into the machine as you will
|
||
either electrocute yourself or blow up the machine!
|
||
|
||
How it all works:
|
||
|
||
As you may know salt water (saline) has a higher
|
||
conductivity than plain water, however undissolved salt
|
||
does not conduct at all. (This is why it is bad to have
|
||
undissolved salt left over in the bottle). What happens is
|
||
the machine registers a credit when a coin passes a
|
||
conductor. If you pour salt water through the system it
|
||
will short circuit this conductor and also short circuit
|
||
the change/money return conductor. So the machine is
|
||
fooled into thinking that money is constantly being put
|
||
into the machine and will thus dish out free shit and
|
||
give change.
|
||
|
||
Other shit you should know:
|
||
|
||
If you put money in when the machine is short
|
||
circuited it will either sit there or fall through to the
|
||
coin return slot. If it sits there then you are in luck
|
||
as you can leave the machine in that state and people
|
||
will put their money in and get a drink or food not
|
||
knowing that they don't need to put any money in. If you
|
||
come back later and press the coin return button you will
|
||
get their money. The customer is happy as they got their
|
||
drink or snack and you are happy as you get a little bit
|
||
of cash! Ofcourse we all know who is unhappy. ;-)
|
||
Don't expect to become a millionaire by getting the
|
||
money out of the machine. The most I ever got was ten
|
||
bucks all in ten cent and five cent pieces. At least it
|
||
pays for petrol or a train ride! (NOTE there are two
|
||
money boxes in the machine. One holds all the money that
|
||
is put in the machine by people who buy the drinks and
|
||
the other holds the money that gives change. You can only
|
||
get the money out of the change box).
|
||
Try and keep the outside of the machine dry - the
|
||
number of times I have been zapped by fucking machines is
|
||
not funny, the risk of electrocution is there and there
|
||
is no fucking point is being dead since you can't enjoy
|
||
the rewards of a hard nights work! The highly conductive
|
||
salt water can pour out of the buttons you are trying to
|
||
press and fuck you up when you press them.
|
||
|
||
What Machines to try:
|
||
|
||
Any machine that registers a credit by passing an
|
||
electrical current through the coin has the potential to
|
||
dish out free stuff. This usually means a machine that
|
||
has the ability to give change. This includes drink
|
||
machines, food machines, cigarette machines etc. However
|
||
not all of them will work I know of one make of Pepsi
|
||
dispensing machine that won't work. The Coke machines
|
||
usually work though. Just don't be disillusioned if it
|
||
doesn't work - try on another machine.
|
||
Any machine that registers a credit by activating
|
||
switches by it's mass will NOT work. This means telefones
|
||
and the like. You can however get free phone calls and
|
||
stuff by inducing a large current but I will go into that
|
||
in another text file.
|
||
|
||
Final Words:
|
||
|
||
Try to do this in the dark as it looks bloody
|
||
suspicious you holding a bottle up to a machine, stuff
|
||
landing in the dispenser, money flying out and water
|
||
flowing out of the bottom of the machine! Also don't go
|
||
back to the same machine all the time as when they find
|
||
the machine with no drinks in it and no money in the
|
||
machine they are going to wonder what the fuck is going
|
||
on - they may even have the machine watched.
|
||
|
||
I hope this text file has been useful look out for
|
||
more by me. Just one last thing - If you are going to do
|
||
this, pick on bigger companies rather than small business
|
||
- it is better to hurt the fat overfed shithead bastard
|
||
of a capitalist scumbag than the little person. ;-)
|
||
|
||
|
||
This Phine text Phile by mE!
|
||
(Remember BigBrother is watching you!)
|
||
|
||
- End of File -
|
||
|
||
Ubiquitous - Issue 1, File 7:
|
||
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
|
||
|
||
Commandeering an Optus Voice Mail Box for yourself:
|
||
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
|
||
|
||
Many of you will have heard of Voice mail services. They are
|
||
becoming quite popular. All they simply are, is an advanced form of
|
||
answering machine. These days many mobile fones are diverted to them
|
||
when they are turned off, and (this is the good bit), when the phone
|
||
is turned back on again, it will ring and tell you that you have voice
|
||
mail waiting.
|
||
Now due to the actual existence of this and other files, you
|
||
probably correctly guessed that there are ways of getting yourself a
|
||
simple mailbox. For the hacker or any person in the underground, a
|
||
VMB is very useful for keeping in contact anonymously with other
|
||
colleagues! While you can't have the mobile services on a hacked VMB,
|
||
they are still very useful to give to people (on BBSes, Internet etc.)
|
||
who then call the VMB rather than your home. This file will go into
|
||
detail on how to acquire yourself an Optus Voice Mail box.
|
||
|
||
1: Dialing in:
|
||
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
|
||
|
||
Certain prefixes are assigned to Voice mail where you dial the
|
||
prefix, then the mail box number. Unfortunately, I only have a few
|
||
Victorian prefixes to offer at the moment as I'm not sure what the
|
||
interstate ones are. However, they shouldn't be too hard to find. Just
|
||
social engineer Telstra (013) or Optus (1800 500 500) and try the get
|
||
numbers from the bastards. Else ask around on your favorite Underground
|
||
BBS. I'll publish any more I find! The Victorian prefixes are:
|
||
|
||
(03) 9220 - XXXX
|
||
(03) 9221 - XXXX
|
||
(03) 9222 - XXXX
|
||
|
||
Where XXXX is the VMB number. (I'm not sure if there are any more Optus
|
||
Victorian Voice mail prefixes).
|
||
|
||
Once connected to the VMB system:
|
||
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
|
||
|
||
When you get a message, (like hello you've called myself, leave
|
||
a message and piss off!) you can leave a message and hang up (or press 1
|
||
at the end of the message and you get the option of leaving another
|
||
message in any VMB without having to recall), or press * during the
|
||
message and there you have to enter a passcode (from 4 to 10 digits in
|
||
length). Press * again and you get the "Welcome to the Optus........"
|
||
Here you can dial another VMB number without having to recall the VMB system,
|
||
or you can even leave a message to Optus digital mobile phones. When dialing
|
||
the new VMB number the format is the same as if you had jut picked up the
|
||
phone and dialed (except for the area code if you are calling from
|
||
interstate) ie 9220 - XXXX, or 9221 - XXXX, or 9222 - XXXX. Mobiles are
|
||
different. On a mobile you enter the last 8 digits. (Usually 1X-XXX-XXX as
|
||
digital fones begin with 041X usually.)
|
||
Ok that's the basics of using the VMB system, now what about commandeering
|
||
one for yourself?
|
||
|
||
Hacking an Optus VMB:
|
||
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
|
||
|
||
No, we aren't going to go into setting up a wardialer to crack
|
||
somebody's passcode. This isn't fair on the poor sucker who owns the VMB
|
||
and it is practically impossible anyway as you only get three attempts
|
||
at entering the passcode, which can be between 4 and 10 digits in length.
|
||
What we are trying to find is an EMPTY Voice Mail Box. An empty VMB, when
|
||
called, simply has the operator's voice saying "Please leave a message..."
|
||
What it is up to you to do is to try and find an empty VMB. This isn't
|
||
really that hard, just kind of tedious. The best way to do this, is to
|
||
dial in to any voice mail box and press * and then press * again. Then you
|
||
dial your next number. You keep doing this until you find an empty VMB.
|
||
(This could save you a bit of money!!) Once you find an empty mail box,
|
||
simply type * and listen to the computerized operator. She will say:
|
||
"Hello box number 922X - XXXX Please enter your passcode." (The XXXX's
|
||
depending on what VMB number you have dialed.) Assuming somebody hasn't
|
||
fucked with that VMB and changed the passcode and left the message the
|
||
same, the passcode is the number of the voice mail you have dialed.
|
||
(Except there is no 9 included). Once you have entered the passcode,
|
||
you can enter the system and press 8 for user options and set it up.
|
||
Pretty bloody easy eh??
|
||
|
||
Safety:
|
||
=-=-=-=
|
||
|
||
Ok. To keep you on the right side of the fence, I have included a few
|
||
safety tips.
|
||
|
||
- Don't use your real name, fone number or address on the system
|
||
(Especially not in your intro!) This includes getting people
|
||
who know who you are to NOT use you name (or theirs) when
|
||
leaving VMail to you.
|
||
|
||
- Try and avoid dialing directly to your own voice mail box.
|
||
Dial another VMB, press * twice and then enter your full VMB
|
||
number. (All fone numbers dialed are logged on AXE and S12
|
||
exchanges remember!!)
|
||
|
||
- Don't blab to everybody about your new toy!!
|
||
|
||
- Use your fucking common sense!
|
||
|
||
Ok that just about wraps it up. I hope this is useful. Check out other
|
||
mags (like Neurocactus) for more details on other VMB systems. Have Fun!!
|
||
|
||
mE!
|
||
|
||
- End of File -
|
||
|
||
Ubiquitous - Issue 1, File 8:
|
||
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
|
||
|
||
In Introduction to Australian Telephone Exchanges - By mE!
|
||
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
|
||
|
||
If you don't know what a telephone exchange is, then you really
|
||
shouldn't be reading this magazine! But in any case, I will give a brief
|
||
history of the exchange as well as the different exchange types.
|
||
|
||
The first exchanges started springing up before the end of the 19th
|
||
century. Melbourne was to boast the first telephone exchange in Australia,
|
||
run by the Melbourne Telephone Exchange Company - managed by a man called
|
||
H. Byron Moore. This was merely two years after the first American
|
||
exchange and only four years since Bell had first talked on the telephone.
|
||
(C'mon you must know who Alexander Graham Bell is!!)
|
||
The first sort of exchange was completely manually operated. Ie you
|
||
picked up the handset, turned the lever to Generate an electrical current,
|
||
and a light would light up on an Operator's console at the exchange. You
|
||
then asked to be connected to your desired number. Now this was all fine
|
||
and dandy. But as more and more subscribers began to use the fone system,
|
||
more and more people had to be employed. This would have proved to be a
|
||
real fucking headache, had the new automatic exchange not come into being.
|
||
|
||
The Step by Step (SxS) Exchange:
|
||
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
|
||
|
||
The real trip out was that the automatic exchange was invented by
|
||
an American funeral director! His name was Almon B. Strowger. It is said
|
||
that he was getting just a tad pissed off about his business rival's wife,
|
||
who worked at the local telephone exchange, switching his customers to his
|
||
competition, so he said "fuck it! I'm gonna get rid of those stupid tart
|
||
operator bitches!!" He did this by inventing a device similar to the
|
||
Step-by-Step exchange.
|
||
The SxS exchange simply handles each number one step at a time. When
|
||
the receiver is picked up, it is connected to a device called a UNISELECTOR
|
||
which is just a moving arm making contact with a selected point. The purpose
|
||
of a uniselector is to find a free BIMOTIONAL Selector. A Bimotional selector
|
||
is simply a two dimensional version of the uni-selector. You are ofcourse
|
||
given a dialtone when the uniselector connects to the first BMS. When the
|
||
first number is dialed, you are connected to another bi-motional selector.
|
||
The selector connected to is dependent on the number dialed. Each number
|
||
dialed connects you to the relevant selector until the telephone number you
|
||
are calling is reached.
|
||
|
||
|
|
||
o | o o o o o
|
||
--------o o | o / o o o --------------------->
|
||
\ o | o/o o o o To BMS #2 which is
|
||
\ o | / o o o o dependent on the
|
||
\ o |/ number dialed.
|
||
\o----------// ---------|
|
||
|
|
||
Uniselector Bi-Motional Selector 1
|
||
(1 Dimensional) (2 Dimensional)
|
||
|
||
For more details and better pictures than bloody ASCII drawings, read a
|
||
telephony History book, or Check out the Telstra Internet home page.
|
||
Or get the Information kit #3 from Telstra, which is on the internet and
|
||
from Telstra's Public Relations service. (It's FREE - For a change!!)
|
||
The last SxS exchange in Australia was predicted to be replaced
|
||
as late as 1995. Whether that has happened or not, I wouldn't have a clue!
|
||
(An interesting point to note is that the last MANUAL exchange was at
|
||
Wanaaring is New South Wales. This was decommissioned in December 1991!!!)
|
||
|
||
The Crossbar Exchange:
|
||
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
|
||
|
||
Although better than employing ten million bloody operators, the
|
||
SxS exchange was a pain in the arse to maintain. Numbers were hardcoded
|
||
into the system which made things a pain in the arse if you wanted your
|
||
number changed!! The Crossbar (or XBar) exchange was to come to the rescue.
|
||
The XBar had the advantage of having the control system separate from the
|
||
switching system. This made the exchange a hell of a lot more versatile.
|
||
|
||
|
||
--------------------
|
||
----------- | Switching | ----------
|
||
| Fone 1 |--------------| System |---------------| Fone 2 |
|
||
----------- | | | | ----------
|
||
| -------------------- |
|
||
| |
|
||
| |
|
||
| ---------------- |
|
||
| | Control | |
|
||
----------| System |----------
|
||
| |
|
||
----------------
|
||
|
||
The XBar exchange brought back the
|
||
common control system which was
|
||
absent in SxS exchanges.
|
||
The Control system can be Relays,
|
||
microprocessors, or people. (Ie in old
|
||
manual exchanges.)
|
||
|
||
The Crossbar works in a similar way to the old Manual switch
|
||
boards but are controlled by relays rather than people. The switchboards
|
||
are of course part of the switching system while the relays are part of the
|
||
control system. It was during the XBar era, that many services like STD
|
||
came about.
|
||
|
||
Computerized Exchanges:
|
||
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
|
||
|
||
A modern Crossbar exchange works on the same principle as any XBar
|
||
exchange. However the relays are gone and the Common Control System is
|
||
controlled by microprocessors. This gives the exchange some of the features
|
||
that a fully computerized exchange offers.
|
||
The next step was the fully computerized exchange. Unlike the
|
||
computer controlled XBar, which has a computerized control system and the
|
||
XBar style switching equipment, the modern computerized exchange digitizes
|
||
the signals rather than switching the analogue signal. The digitized
|
||
information is then switched using logic circuits (AND gates, OR gates etc.)
|
||
to a multiplexer where it is either converted back to an analogue signal
|
||
and sent to the other fone (if both fones are on the same exchange) or
|
||
sent digitally (along copper, microwave, fibre optic etc.) to a remote
|
||
exchange where is converted back to an analogue signal and sent to the
|
||
other fone. With modern computerized exchanges, features like tone dialing,
|
||
easycall and a whole heap of other shit are available. Modern exchanges also
|
||
handle stuff like ISDN. Integrated Services Digital Network - In which the
|
||
signal is digital right up to your door. This would render modems useless.
|
||
But Telescum prices it so fucking high that it is out of reach to 99% of
|
||
the population!
|
||
|
||
What do those acronyms mean?
|
||
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
|
||
|
||
The following is a description of exchange acronyms and what they mean:
|
||
|
||
SxS: Step by Step exchange. In Australia this includes:
|
||
|
||
SE-50,SR-B
|
||
|
||
XBar: Crossbar exchanges. In Australia, this includes:
|
||
|
||
ARF,ARK
|
||
|
||
ARE: Computerized Xbar. These include ARE-11, ARE-113, ARE-114
|
||
Most ARE-11 Exchanges have been converted from old ARF
|
||
XBar exchanges.
|
||
|
||
AXE/S12: AXE and System 12 exchanges are fully computerized.
|
||
System 12 is a little smaller than AXE but they are pretty
|
||
much the same. AXE (And I think ARF and ARK) are made by
|
||
Erricson. A scary thought for you. ALL calls made on AXE and
|
||
S12 and probably recent ARE exchanges have the numbers logged
|
||
and stored for later reference if needed!!! (Figure that out!!)
|
||
|
||
PABX/PBX: Private (automatic) branch exchange. A small exchange
|
||
that is run by a business. Will cover these in detail in the
|
||
future.
|
||
|
||
This was meant to be an INTRODUCTION to telephone exchanges and by no means
|
||
a comprehensive guide. The best places to find more info is from the
|
||
following places: (There are probably other places to go as well!!)
|
||
|
||
The Internet (FTP, USENET, WWW etc.)
|
||
The Fidonet echo: Aust. Telecommunications
|
||
Telescum (Social Engineering, Public relations etc.)
|
||
Text files & zines and like this one.
|
||
Library, Bookstores etc.
|
||
Go trashing!!
|
||
|
||
I hope this file has taught you a thing of two. Look out for more advanced
|
||
and more comprehensive articles in future.
|
||
|
||
mE!
|
||
|
||
- End of File -
|
||
|
||
Ubiquitous - Issue 1, File 9:
|
||
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
|
||
|
||
|
||
C L A S S I C T E X T S
|
||
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
|
||
|
||
This section of ubiquitous is dedicated to classic texts that you all
|
||
should have read. (If not then that's why they are here!). It will be
|
||
a regular section of Ubiquitous, providing I don't run out of texts!!
|
||
(Sometimes if the classic text is rather short, then I will include
|
||
two for that issue.)
|
||
|
||
This issue is the classic BOFH by Simon Travaglia:
|
||
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
|
||
|
||
|
||
BASTARD OPERATOR FROM HELL #1
|
||
|
||
It's backup day today so I'm pissed off. Being the BOFH, however, does have
|
||
it's advantages. I assign the tape device to null - it's so much more
|
||
economical on my time as I don't have to keep getting up to change tapes every
|
||
5 minutes. And it speeds up backups too, so it can't be all bad.
|
||
|
||
A user rings
|
||
|
||
"Do you know why the system is slow?" they ask
|
||
|
||
"It's probably something to do with..." I look up today's excuse ".. clock
|
||
speed"
|
||
|
||
"Oh" (Not knowing what I'm talking about, they're satisfied) "Do you know
|
||
when it will be fixed?"
|
||
|
||
"Fixed? There's 275 users on your machine, and one of them is you. Don't be
|
||
so selfish - logout now and give someone else a chance!"
|
||
|
||
"But my research results are due in tommorrow and all I need is one page of
|
||
Laser Print.."
|
||
|
||
"SURE YOU DO. Well; You just keep telling yourself that buddy!" I hang up.
|
||
|
||
Sheesh, you'd really think people would learn not to call!
|
||
|
||
The phone rings. It'll be him again, I know. That annoys me. I put on a
|
||
gruff voice
|
||
|
||
"HELLO, SALARIES!"
|
||
|
||
"Oh, I'm sorry, I've got the wrong number"
|
||
|
||
"YEAH? Well what's your name buddy? Do you know WASTED phone calls cost
|
||
money? DO YOU? I've got a good mind to subtract your wasted time, my wasted
|
||
time, and the cost of this call from your weekly wages! IN FACT I WILL! By
|
||
the time I've finished with you, YOU'LL OWE US money! WHAT'S YOUR NAME - AND
|
||
DON'T LIE, WE'VE GOT CALLER ID!"
|
||
|
||
I hear the phone drop and the sound of running feet - he's obviously going to
|
||
try and get an alibi by being at the Dean's office. I look up his username and
|
||
find his department. I ring the Dean's secretary.
|
||
|
||
"Hello?" she answers
|
||
|
||
"Hi, SIMON, B.O.F.H HERE, LISTEN, WHEN THAT GUY COMES RUNNING INTO YOUR OFFICE
|
||
IN ABOUT 10 SECONDS, CAN YOU GIVE HIM A MESSAGE?"
|
||
|
||
"I think so..." she says
|
||
|
||
"TELL HIM `HE CAN RUN, BUT HE CAN'T HIDE'"
|
||
|
||
"Um. Ok"
|
||
|
||
"AND DON'T FORGET NOW, I WOULDN'T WANT TO HAVE TO TELL ANYONE ABOUT THAT FILE
|
||
IN YOUR ACCOUNT WITH YOUR ANSWERS TO THE PUURITY TEST IN IT..."
|
||
|
||
I hear her scrabbling at the terminal...
|
||
|
||
"DON'T BOTHER - I HAVE A COPY. BE A GOOD GIRL AND PASS THE MESSAGE ON"
|
||
|
||
She sobs her assent and I hang up. And the worst thing is, I was just guessing
|
||
about the purity test thing. I grab a quick copy anyway, it might make for
|
||
some good late-night reading.
|
||
|
||
Meantime backups have finished in record time, 2.03 seconds. Modern technology
|
||
is wonderful, isn't it?
|
||
|
||
Another user rings.
|
||
|
||
"I need more space" he says
|
||
|
||
"Well, why don't you move to Texas?" I ask
|
||
|
||
"No, on my account, stupid."
|
||
|
||
Stupid?!?.... Uh-Oh..
|
||
|
||
"I'm terribly sorry" I say, in a polite manner equal to that of Jimmy Stewart
|
||
in a Family Matinee "I didn't quite catch that. What was it that you said?"
|
||
|
||
I smell the fear coming down the line at me, but it's too late, he's a goner
|
||
and he knows it.
|
||
|
||
"Um, I said what I wanted was more space on my account, *please*"
|
||
|
||
"Sure, hang on"
|
||
|
||
I hear him gasp his relief even though he covered the mouthpeice.
|
||
|
||
"There, you've got plenty of space now"
|
||
|
||
"How much have I got"
|
||
|
||
Now this REALLY *PISSES* *ME* *OFF*! Not only do they want me to give them
|
||
extra disk, they want to check it, to correct me if I don't give them enough.
|
||
They should be happy with what I give them *and that's it*!!!
|
||
|
||
Back into Jimmy Stewart mode.
|
||
|
||
"Well, let's see, you have 4 Meg available"
|
||
|
||
"Wow! Eight Meg in total, thanks!" he says pleased with his bargaining power
|
||
|
||
"No" I interrupt, savouring this like a fine red, at room temperature "4 Meg in
|
||
total..."
|
||
|
||
"Huh?... I'd used 4 Meg already, How could I have 4 Meg Available?"
|
||
|
||
I say nothing. It'll come to him.
|
||
|
||
"aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagggggghhhhhH!"
|
||
|
||
I kill me; I really do!
|
||
|
||
spt@waikato.ac.nz (Simon Travaglia)
|
||
|
||
**************************************************************************************
|
||
|
||
BASTARD OPERATOR FROM HELL #2
|
||
|
||
I'm sitting at the desk, playing x-tank, when some thoughtless bastard rings me
|
||
on the phone. I pick it up.
|
||
|
||
"Hello?" I say.
|
||
"Who is this?" they say
|
||
"It's me I think" I say, having been through a telephone skills course "Me
|
||
Who?"
|
||
"Is this like a knock knock joke?" I say, trying anything to save myself having
|
||
to end this game.
|
||
|
||
Too LATE! I get killed.
|
||
|
||
Now I'm pissed!
|
||
|
||
"What can I do for you?" I ask pleasantly - (one of the key warning signs)
|
||
|
||
"Um, I want to know if we have a particular software package.."
|
||
|
||
"Which package is that?"
|
||
|
||
"Uh, B-A-S-I-C it's called."
|
||
|
||
>clickety clickety d-e-l b-a-s-i-c.e-x-e<
|
||
|
||
"Um no, we don't have that. We used to though.."
|
||
|
||
"oh. Oh well, the other thing I wanted to know was, could the contents of my
|
||
account be copied to tape to I have a permanent copy of them to save at home in
|
||
case the worst happens.."
|
||
|
||
"The worst?"
|
||
|
||
"Well, like they get deleted or something..."
|
||
|
||
"DELETED! Oh, don't worry about that, we have backups" (I'm such a *shit*)
|
||
"What was your username?"
|
||
|
||
He gives me his lusername. (What an idiot)
|
||
|
||
>clickety clikc<
|
||
|
||
"But you haven't got any files in your account!" I say, mock surprise leaping
|
||
from my vocal chords.
|
||
|
||
"Yes I have, you must be looking in the wrong place!"
|
||
|
||
So first he spoils my x-tank game, and now he's calling me a liar...
|
||
|
||
>clickety click<
|
||
|
||
"Oh no, I made a mistake" I say
|
||
|
||
Did he mutter "typical" under his breath? Oh dear, oh dear..
|
||
|
||
"I MEANT TO SAY: That username doesn't exist"
|
||
|
||
"Huh? >wimper< It must do, I was only using it this morning!"
|
||
|
||
"Ah well, that'll be the problem, there was a virus in our system this morning,
|
||
the... uh... De Vinci Virus, wipes out users who are logged in when it goes
|
||
off."
|
||
|
||
"That can't be right, my girlfriend was logged in, and I'm in her account now!"
|
||
|
||
"Which one was that?"
|
||
|
||
He tells me the username. Some people NEVER learn..
|
||
|
||
"Oh, yeah, her account was just after we discovered the virus." >clickety
|
||
clikc<
|
||
"..she only lost all her files"
|
||
|
||
"But..."
|
||
|
||
"But don't worry, we've got them all on tape"
|
||
|
||
"Oh, thank goodness!!!"
|
||
|
||
"Paper tape. Have you got a magnifying glass and a pencil. SEE YOU IN THE
|
||
MACHINE ROOM!!!! NYAHAHAHAHAHA!"
|
||
|
||
I'm such a prick!
|
||
|
||
spt@waikato.ac.nz (Simon Travaglia)
|
||
|
||
**************************************************************************************
|
||
|
||
BASTARD OPERATOR FROM HELL #3
|
||
|
||
So I'm working so hard I barely have time to drive into town and watch a movie
|
||
before I told people their printing will be ready. The queue's WAAAAY too long
|
||
to have everything printed (and sorted) by the time I told them, so I kill all
|
||
the small jobs so there's only 2 left and I can sort them in no time.
|
||
|
||
Then, after the movie, (which was one of those slack Bertolucci ones that takes
|
||
about 3 hours till the main character is killed off in a visionary experience)
|
||
I get back and clear the printouts.
|
||
|
||
There's about 50 people waiting outside and I've got two printouts. That's
|
||
about average for me. I thought I'd killed more tho. Anyway, I put out the
|
||
printouts and walk slooowly inside, fingering the clipboard with "ACCOUNTS TO
|
||
REMOVE" in big letters on the back. No-one says anything. As usual.
|
||
|
||
. . .
|
||
|
||
I'm sitting back in the Operations Armchair, watching the computer room
|
||
closed circuit TV, which just happens to be connected to the frame-grabber's
|
||
Video player (sent off for repair, due back sometime in '94) when the phone
|
||
rings. That must be the 2nd time today, and it's really starting to get to me!
|
||
|
||
"Yes?" I say, pausing the picture.
|
||
|
||
"I've accidentally deleted my C.V!" the voice at the other end of the line
|
||
says.
|
||
|
||
"You have? What was your username?"
|
||
|
||
He tells me. What the hell, I AM bored.
|
||
|
||
"Ah no, you didn't delete it - I did."
|
||
|
||
"What?"
|
||
|
||
"I deleted it. It was full of shit! You didn't ever get more than a B- in any
|
||
of your subjects!"
|
||
|
||
"Huh?"
|
||
|
||
"And that crap about being a foreign exchange student, that was your girlfriend
|
||
and we both know it."
|
||
|
||
"Huh?!!"
|
||
|
||
"Your academic records. I checked them, you were lying.."
|
||
|
||
"How did y.." He clicks. "It's you isn't it? THE BASTARD OPERATOR FROM
|
||
HELL!"
|
||
|
||
"In the flesh, on the phone and in your account.... You shouldn't have called
|
||
you know. You especially shouldn't have given me your username.." >clickety<
|
||
>click< "Neither should you have sent that mail to the System Manager telling
|
||
him what you think of him in graphic terms..."
|
||
|
||
"I didn't send any.."
|
||
|
||
>clickety< >click<......
|
||
|
||
"No, you didn't did you? But who can tell these days. Not to worry though,
|
||
It'll all be over VERY soon.." >clickedy clikc< "..change my username back,
|
||
and..."
|
||
|
||
"b-b-b.." he blubs, like a stood-up date
|
||
|
||
"Goodbye now" I say pleasantly, "you've got bags to pack and a life to start
|
||
over..."
|
||
|
||
I hang up.
|
||
|
||
Two seconds later the red phone goes. I pick it up, it's the boss. He mumbles
|
||
the username of the person I was just talking to, mentions something about a
|
||
nasty mail message, and utters the words "You know what to do...", with the
|
||
dots and everything.
|
||
|
||
Later, inside the Municipal Energy Authority Computer, as I'm modifying the
|
||
poor pleb's Energy Bill by several zeros, I can't help but think about what
|
||
lapse of judgement - what act of heinous stupidity causes them to call. Then,
|
||
even later, when I'm adding the poor pleb's photo image over the top of the
|
||
FBI's online "MOST Wanted Armed and Dangerous, SHOOT ON SIGHT" offenders list,
|
||
I realise, I'll probably never know; but life goes on.
|
||
|
||
A couple of hours later, as I see the SWAT vehicle roll up outside the poor
|
||
pleb's apartment I realise that for some, it just doesn't.
|
||
|
||
But tommorrow is another day.
|
||
|
||
spt@waikato.ac.nz (Simon Travaglia)
|
||
|
||
**************************************************************************************
|
||
|
||
BASTARD OPERATOR FROM HELL #4
|
||
|
||
It's a thursday, and I'm in a good mood. It's payday. I think I'll take some
|
||
calls. I put the phone back on the hook. It rings.
|
||
|
||
"I've been trying to get you for hours!" the voice at the other end screams
|
||
|
||
"Not, it can't be hours" I say, putting Blade Runner back into it's cover and
|
||
looking at the back, "it was more like 114 minutes. I was on a long phone call
|
||
with the big boss, trying to get you users some better facilities"
|
||
|
||
Hook; Line; and Sinker...
|
||
"Oh. I'm sorry."
|
||
|
||
"That's ok, I'm a tolerant person" I make a mental note to change his password
|
||
to something nasty in the next couple of days.
|
||
|
||
"Um, I need to know how to rename a file" he says.
|
||
|
||
Oh dear... Hang on, it's payday isn't it?! I'm in a good mood.
|
||
|
||
"Sure. You just go 'rm' and the filename"
|
||
|
||
"Thanks"
|
||
|
||
"No worries" (Now I'm in a REALLY good mood. I think I just might write that
|
||
script to make saving impossible on rogue at random times like I've been think-
|
||
ing about)
|
||
|
||
The phone rings again.
|
||
|
||
"Hello?"
|
||
|
||
"Hi there" I say
|
||
|
||
"Is this the Operators?"
|
||
|
||
"Yes it is" I say, nice as pie
|
||
|
||
"Could you get my printouts out please. I need them urgently, and I printed
|
||
them over 5 minutes ago"
|
||
|
||
"Your username?" I ask
|
||
|
||
He gives it to me, and I write it down for later. "No worries at all!" I say,
|
||
and head to the printers.
|
||
|
||
There's a HUUUUUUUGE pile of printouts there, and sure enough, his is at the
|
||
top of the pile. I pick it up, split it out of the rest and pour our ink-
|
||
stained cleaning alcohol all over it, run it over a couple of times with the
|
||
loaded tape trolley then slam it in the tape safe door some times as well.
|
||
|
||
Beautiful.
|
||
|
||
"Here's your printout" I say "Sorry about the delay, we've got a few printer
|
||
problems."
|
||
|
||
He takes a look and shits himself.
|
||
|
||
"Well, can I print it again?" he asks, worried
|
||
|
||
"Sure you can" I say "But no promises, the printer's a bit stuffed today"
|
||
|
||
"Well can I print it on laser - is that working?"
|
||
|
||
"Yeah of course, but that'll cost you" I say, oozing compassion for the geek
|
||
|
||
"It doesn't matter about the cost, THIS IS URGENT!"
|
||
|
||
I slide-on back into the printer room and put in the toner cartridge we save
|
||
for special occasions - the one that prints thick black lines down the middle
|
||
of the page and is all faint on one side. It took me quite a while to make it
|
||
like that too. The printout shoots through and I bring it out immediately - I
|
||
don't want to miss this!
|
||
|
||
"W-w-what's happened to my printout?" he geek-squeals at me. Lucky I wrote that
|
||
username down - I'm really starting to develop a taste for torture.
|
||
|
||
"Well nothing. I mean sure, it's a little soiled, but that cartridge has
|
||
already done 47 thousand pages and been refilled 17 times. It's quite good
|
||
compared to some we get"
|
||
|
||
Geek pays up and starts blubbing.
|
||
|
||
"Hey now. There's no reason to cry! Have you got a disk with your work on
|
||
it?"
|
||
|
||
He gives me a box of diskettes and I step inside and run them across the bulk
|
||
eraser. I come back out again.
|
||
|
||
"Sorry, I just remembered, our machine is on the fritz, you'll have to take
|
||
these to the other side of campus to the machine there, it'll print them ok,
|
||
and it had a brand-new toner yesterday."
|
||
|
||
"GREAT!"
|
||
|
||
"No worries. Oh, and hold the disks above your head the whole way there, the
|
||
earth's magnetic field is particularly strong today."
|
||
|
||
"Huh?"
|
||
|
||
"No arguements, just do it."
|
||
|
||
He wanders off, hand held high. Shit I hate myself sometimes.
|
||
|
||
spt@waikato.ac.nz (Simon Travaglia)
|
||
|
||
**************************************************************************************
|
||
|
||
BASTARD OPERATOR FROM HELL #5
|
||
|
||
I'm bored senseless, so I pass the time by reading users email. I must admit
|
||
that today's lot is PARTICULARLY boring, not one good message in all of them. I
|
||
was expecting at LEAST some veiled reference to a grope in a storeroom, but
|
||
nothing. So I'm bored senseless by the usual drivel about some relative's
|
||
surgery and how the weather is over the other side of the world - that sort of
|
||
crap.
|
||
|
||
To relieve the boredom, I remove a e-mail party invite from a user's mail and
|
||
post it under the senders username to to alt.singles.with.severe.social.
|
||
dysfunctions on news, and make a note in my diary to be there with my
|
||
camcorder. Should be a blast!
|
||
|
||
Next in line is the online medical records database, in which the company
|
||
doctors store the current medical histories of the staff. I grep it quickly
|
||
for "herpes" and "syphillus" and sell the results to the local scum newspaper.
|
||
I cover my tracks by adding an entry to one of the doctor's online electronic
|
||
diarys for yesterday saying "$500, Med Recs To Paper" I think that's all it
|
||
should take..
|
||
|
||
I move some tapes from the racks to the trolley to make it look like we really
|
||
use them, then start looking thru archie listings for a hidden x-gif site. I
|
||
find one then start a batch job running under some user's account to get them
|
||
all back, charged to him. I make sure he's got enough disk for the job by
|
||
removing any files not related to the task at hand. Like all those "Doctorate
|
||
Final Report" papers that have got quite large in the last couple of weeks.
|
||
|
||
I go back to the mail now, as something's bound to have happened. I do a grep
|
||
on all mail files for the words "pregnant" and "family way", and post them
|
||
anonymously to the local general interest newsgroup.
|
||
|
||
Then, before anything can happen, the power goes out! The next second, the
|
||
phone rings.
|
||
|
||
"Hello?" I say, annoyed - the coyote was just about to kill roadrunner again!
|
||
|
||
"Has the comput.."
|
||
|
||
I hang up. This is a matter of life or death. Quick as I can I rip the
|
||
computer power cable out of the UPS and plug the TV in. Damn! Wylie missed
|
||
again!
|
||
|
||
Meantime, all the alarms are going off like crazy as the disks spin down, but
|
||
that's ok, because my Mac and Terminal are hardwired to the UPS in any case;
|
||
and I'm at the Beer Factory level in Dark Castle too.
|
||
|
||
The phone rings, so I pull the PABX breaker on the UPS switchboard and it
|
||
stops. Now to look like I'm working. I break out the puck and the hockey
|
||
stick and play a little one-on-wall. From the observation window it'll look
|
||
like I'm being blindingly efficient, as per usual.
|
||
|
||
10 Minutes later, the power is back and we're two HDA's down, but what the
|
||
hell, I haven't lost a man, I'm onto the final screen, and there's more
|
||
cartoons!
|
||
|
||
The phone rings, it's a luser. (What a surprise)
|
||
|
||
"Computer Room" I say, being efficient
|
||
|
||
"Hello, when will the compu..."
|
||
|
||
I hang up.
|
||
I'm doing well in the screen, all I need do is get past the wizard who throws
|
||
spells at you and I'm in!
|
||
|
||
The phone rings again. I put it on hands free
|
||
|
||
"Computer Room" I shout, still deep in the game.
|
||
|
||
"I've lost my files" a user whines over the loudspeaker
|
||
|
||
"You bet you have" I say, as my concentration lapses just long enough for me to
|
||
get zapped by the wizard.
|
||
|
||
"What was your username?" I say, all sweetness and smiles
|
||
|
||
He tells me, I look, and he's right. Shit, and I didn't even do it!
|
||
|
||
Not to be outdone, I change his login directory to the null device, set his
|
||
path to "." and redefine the command "news" to execute a script in his old
|
||
login directory to send a nasty message to the equal opportunities officer,
|
||
then delete itself.
|
||
|
||
Now that's trying!
|
||
|
||
spt@waikato.ac.nz (Simon Travaglia)
|
||
|
||
**************************************************************************************
|
||
|
||
BASTARD OPERATOR FROM HELL #6
|
||
|
||
It's friday, so I get into work early, before lunch even. The phone rings.
|
||
Shit!
|
||
|
||
I turn the page on the excuse sheet. "SOLAR FLARES" stares out at me. I'd
|
||
better read up on that. Two minutes later I'm ready to answer the phone.
|
||
|
||
"Hello?" I say.
|
||
|
||
"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN, I'VE BEEN TRYING TO GET YOU ALL MORNING?!"
|
||
|
||
I hate it when they shout at me early in the morning. It always puts me in a
|
||
bad mood. You know what I mean.
|
||
|
||
"Ah, yes. Well, there's been some solar activity this morning, it always
|
||
disrupts electronics..." I say, sweet as a sugar pie.
|
||
|
||
"Huh? But I could get through to my friends?!"
|
||
|
||
"Yes, that's entirely possible, solar activity is very unpredictable in it's
|
||
effects. Why last week, we had some files just dissappear from a guys account
|
||
while he was working on it!"
|
||
|
||
"Really?"
|
||
|
||
"Straight Up! Hey, do you want me to check your account?"
|
||
|
||
"Yes please, I've got some important stuff in there!"
|
||
|
||
"Ok, what's your username..."
|
||
|
||
He tells me. Honestly, it's like shooting a fish in a barrel. Twice. With an
|
||
Elephant Gun. At point blank range. In the head.
|
||
|
||
(Do I really need to tell you the clicky clicky bit? I think not)
|
||
|
||
"How many files are in your account?" I ask
|
||
|
||
Um, well there should be about 20 in my thesis writeup, 10 or so with the data
|
||
for it, and another 20 or so in a book that I'm writing"
|
||
|
||
"Hmmm. Well, I think we caught it just in time. You've still got 2 files
|
||
left... .cshrc and .login"
|
||
|
||
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaggggggggghhhh!"
|
||
|
||
He sobs into the receiver a bit - it really turns my stomach.
|
||
|
||
"What can I do?" he sniffs
|
||
|
||
"Ok, do you have any of your stuff backed up on floppy?"
|
||
|
||
"Some, but it's weeks old!"
|
||
|
||
I fire up the bulk eraser.
|
||
|
||
"Ok" I say "How about I come out and load all that data onto your account
|
||
pronto so you can get some work done?"
|
||
|
||
"That'd be great, but it's all at home" he wimpers. "I spose I'll just load it
|
||
all in myself tonight"
|
||
|
||
"Sure. But remember what I said, solar flares are bad for disks and machines.
|
||
Protect your disks from solar activity to prevent them losing their data"
|
||
|
||
"How do I do that? Wrap them in tin-foil?"
|
||
|
||
"NO! TIN FOIL'S THE WORST THING! YOU KNOW WHAT TIN FOIL DOES IN A MICROWAVE
|
||
DON'T YOU?!"
|
||
|
||
"Yes.."
|
||
|
||
"Then don't use it. There's only one thing that protects disks from solar
|
||
activity.."
|
||
|
||
"What's that?"
|
||
|
||
"MAGNETS. Wrap your disks up in a pillow case with lots of magnets - Solar
|
||
Flares hate that"
|
||
|
||
"Wow! Thanks"
|
||
|
||
"No worries at all..."
|
||
|
||
Shit I'm good!
|
||
|
||
spt@waikato.ac.nz (Simon Travaglia)
|
||
|
||
**************************************************************************************
|
||
|
||
BASTARD OPERATOR FROM HELL #7
|
||
|
||
So I manage AT LONG LAST, to get a couple of hours off for lunch, AND, because
|
||
I can't leave my desk unattended, I get the janitor in and have him sit in my
|
||
chair. I tell him that all he has to do is make sure the receiver doesn't
|
||
accidentally get put back on the hook. He agrees and I'm off.
|
||
|
||
First stop, the bank. I change a $50 note into quarters and then ask to see a
|
||
balance of my account. Then I yank the power lead out of the teller's vdu. It
|
||
dies. I say I'm in a hurry and is the manager around?
|
||
|
||
He rolls over like a man-sized twinkie and asks what the problem is. I say
|
||
that all I want is a balance of my accounts. I cross my fingers. YES! He
|
||
finds the vdu lead out, plugs it in, and logs in, TO THE MANAGER'S ACCOUNT.
|
||
Now's my chance - I slip up against the counter, slopping 200 coins across the
|
||
counter. The manager ignores it, but all the tellers dive for the money. I
|
||
watch, unobserved, as the manager types in his password at the breakneck speed
|
||
of one character a minute. At that rate I should've got $100 worth.... He
|
||
finishes typing. "MONEY". What a toughy! Well, that's my mortgage taken
|
||
care of tonight...
|
||
|
||
A user that I recognise from "D(eletion) day '89" approaches. I think he's
|
||
going to talk to me. Even the bank manager is shaking his head furiously. But
|
||
it's too late, he stops.
|
||
|
||
"Um, excuse me, Could you tell me what is the best computer to buy to do my
|
||
thesis on?
|
||
|
||
?!
|
||
|
||
Right.
|
||
|
||
"You've heard of Commodore 64's?" I ask
|
||
|
||
"Yes?.."
|
||
|
||
"Avoid them like the plague! Not many people know this, but computers aren't
|
||
made to handle that much memory - it's over 64,000 things, more in some cases.
|
||
It's a recipe for disaster!"
|
||
|
||
"Oh!"
|
||
|
||
"Try something safe and proven. A ZX81 with dual cassette drive if you can get
|
||
it. The 1K ram model. Write that down. Don't buy a disk drive - You know how
|
||
they're always failing, but music cassettes last forever!"
|
||
|
||
"Hey thanks!"
|
||
|
||
"No worries. What was your username again?"
|
||
|
||
He tells me. Just in time for D-Day 92. You'd think they'd learn.
|
||
|
||
I get back to work and the janitor's asleep at the terminal. I ask him if he
|
||
wants to work here too, but he likes the ability to bust in on people when
|
||
they're in the toilet...
|
||
|
||
I put the phone back on the hook, and straight away it rings. I hate it when
|
||
it does that, it takes me AGES to get my walkman phones in.
|
||
|
||
It's the hottest hosemonster I've ever met, and she's got a computer problem! I
|
||
love it when that happens!
|
||
|
||
"What's your username?" I ask
|
||
|
||
She tells me (as if I didn't know)
|
||
|
||
Quick as I can I read all her e-mail (mostly boring stuff), then grep everyone
|
||
else's mail files for her username. Nothing. Excellent!
|
||
|
||
"What's the problem?" I ask, all smiles and charm.
|
||
|
||
"I can't save my documents, it says something about space."
|
||
|
||
"Not a problem for long" I say, and delete everyone else on the same disk as
|
||
her. "You should be fine now.."
|
||
|
||
"Thank you so much" she gushes.
|
||
I make a mental note to do something to her account again tomorrow. "No
|
||
worries."
|
||
|
||
The phone rings almost before I've got it on the hook.
|
||
|
||
"My files are all gone!" a voice whines out at me.
|
||
|
||
"When did this happen?" I ask.
|
||
|
||
"Just now..." he says, through the tears
|
||
|
||
"I see. Well, I wouldn't worry, there's three days till the end of the
|
||
semester, if you work day and night until then, you should get at least a C-"
|
||
|
||
He sobs a couple more times then hangs up. What a wimp.
|
||
|
||
THE PHONE RINGS AGAIN!
|
||
|
||
"The screen on my PC is really dim" The woman at the other end says "Should I
|
||
wind the brightness knob up?"
|
||
|
||
"NO!" I scream "Don't touch that knob! Have you any idea of the radiation
|
||
that comes out of that thing when the knob gets wound up?!!!!"
|
||
|
||
"Well I..." she says, all uncertain
|
||
|
||
"TAKE MY ADVICE!" I say "There's only ONE way to fix a dim display, and that's
|
||
by power surging the drivers"
|
||
|
||
The words "power surging" and "drivers" have got her. People hear words like
|
||
that and go into dummy mode and do ANYTHING you say. I could tell her to run
|
||
naked across campus with a powercord rammed up her backside and she'd probably
|
||
do it... Hmmm...
|
||
|
||
"Have you got a spare power cord?"
|
||
|
||
"No.."
|
||
|
||
"Oh well, never mind, we'll have to do the power surge idea... Ok, quick as
|
||
you can, I want you to flick the power switch of your PC on and off 30 times"
|
||
|
||
"Should I take my disks out?"
|
||
|
||
"NO! Do you want to lose all your data!?!"
|
||
|
||
"Oh. No! Ok.."
|
||
|
||
I listen carefully.. ..
|
||
|
||
...clicky..clikcy...clikky.. .. .. ...clicky. ...cliccy..
|
||
. . BOOM!
|
||
|
||
Amazing, it probably made it to 27 - the power supply usually shits itself at
|
||
15 or so...
|
||
|
||
"MY COMPUTER BLEW UP!!!" she screams at me down the line
|
||
|
||
"Really? Must've been a dodgy power supply! Lucky we found out now! Is your
|
||
machine still under warranty?"
|
||
|
||
"NO!"
|
||
|
||
"Dear oh dear. Well, Best get it repaired then. Did you backup your files?"
|
||
|
||
"Yes, to the system, Yesterday, but all this morning's work is gone!"
|
||
|
||
"Oh dear. What was your username, I'll just check that your backups worked
|
||
ok?"
|
||
|
||
She tells me....
|
||
|
||
spt@waikato.ac.nz (Simon Travaglia)
|
||
|
||
**************************************************************************************
|
||
|
||
BASTARD OPERATOR FROM HELL #8
|
||
|
||
I'm at my desk as usual, and a user calls.
|
||
|
||
"Hello Computer Room, Simon here, How can I help" I answer
|
||
|
||
"I can't get into my account!" A user mumbles at me.
|
||
|
||
"What was your username please?" I say
|
||
|
||
They give me their username. No worries. I look in their account.
|
||
|
||
"No worries, it was just a badly made login file. I've fixed it, you should be
|
||
able to login."
|
||
|
||
"Thanks!"
|
||
|
||
"No worries. Have a nice day!"
|
||
|
||
WHAT IS THIS? you're asking yourself. Has the BASTARD OPERATOR FROM HELL
|
||
turned over a new leaf? Sold out?! GONE INSANE?!!! Nope. The BASTARD
|
||
OPERATOR FROM HELL is being logfiled. And if that's happen- ing, I'm being
|
||
bugged as well. So I'm being nice till I can find the bugs. It shouldn't be
|
||
long - bear with me.
|
||
|
||
Ah. One in the phone handpeice. Basic. But then the boss is a sneaky sort,
|
||
so there's probably a couple more. Ah! And another in the base of the phone
|
||
and one inside my keyboard. Time for a mad coffee-spilling frenzy. This is a
|
||
big job, so I bring the whole jug over and wait for a witness. The System
|
||
Manager comes in.
|
||
|
||
"Where's that report of mine?" he asks in a surly manner - he's obviously
|
||
pissed that I haven't implicated myself yet. Antagonist Identified. As the
|
||
Principal of "BASTARD OPERATOR SCHOOL" (me) will tell you, "There's no problem
|
||
so large it can't be solved by killing the user off, deleting their files,
|
||
closing their account and reporting their REAL earnings to the IRS"
|
||
|
||
I pull his printout from under the coffee jug where I put it, and the coffee
|
||
splashes all over the phone and keyboard, which for some reason were stacked on
|
||
top of each other.
|
||
|
||
"Woopsy!" I say, mock horror on my face. The System Manager's face tells me I
|
||
was right in my guess.
|
||
|
||
"Don't think you'll get away with this!" he snarls and stomps off.
|
||
|
||
I click on the ethernet monitor and watch the traffic coming out of his PC.
|
||
|
||
Ah! A memo, authorising the termination of my contract, going to the laser in
|
||
the director's office. I make a few alterations to the file in the spool
|
||
directory and let it go to it's destination. I run my dinky little program
|
||
that deposits -522 to the PC and our mainframe shits itself.
|
||
|
||
Later, while booting, I'll remove that nasty logfile business.
|
||
|
||
Next, I wander into the comms room and plug my earphone into the spare
|
||
RS232 port in the Directors office. It's amazing how simple it is to bug an
|
||
office once it's got data lines going to it!
|
||
|
||
Director: "Are you sure about this?"
|
||
SysMgr: "OF COURSE!"
|
||
Director: "You don't want to reconsider?"
|
||
SysMgr "NEVER!"
|
||
Director: "Very well, I'll fax it to staffing now.." SysMgr
|
||
"EXCELLENT!"
|
||
|
||
Two seconds later the System Manager strolls in smiling. "Well, I'll really
|
||
miss you Simon.." he says, full of himself.
|
||
|
||
"Oh?" I say, all sweetness and charm "Where are you going?"
|
||
|
||
"No Simon" he says, with glee "You're going"
|
||
|
||
"A PROMOTION!" I say "You've finally written that letter to the head of
|
||
staffing telling him he's a bum-sucking arse bandit and that you quit?"
|
||
|
||
"No..."
|
||
|
||
"Are you sure? It's much better than the one about me being fired.."
|
||
|
||
"Y.." His eyes widen slightly
|
||
|
||
It's like clubbing a seal to death with a foam cushion. He runs to stop the
|
||
fax. Only, having just resigned, >clicky cklikcy< his card key no longer
|
||
works...
|
||
|
||
Ametuers...
|
||
|
||
The Phone rings. It's the same guy as before
|
||
|
||
"I can get into my account now, but I've run out of disk"
|
||
|
||
"Hang on, I'll see what I can do"
|
||
|
||
>clicccky<...
|
||
rm -r *
|
||
|
||
spt@waikato.ac.nz (Simon Travaglia)
|
||
|
||
**************************************************************************************
|
||
|
||
BASTARD OPERATOR FROM HELL #9
|
||
|
||
I'm driving to work and I'm stuck behind this old guy, the classic slow driver
|
||
from hell, whose car red-lines at 20 mph and can't take corners at more than
|
||
5. I honk my horn but his hearing aid's probably turned way down to "whisper",
|
||
so I'm stuck.
|
||
|
||
I make a mental note of his license plate. In fact, I did that 60 times a
|
||
minute for 15 and a half minutes. Oh dear.. oh dear.... Looks like another
|
||
call to the DMV Database to register a vehicle as stolen by out of town arms
|
||
dealers...
|
||
|
||
I get to work, flick the excuse page over. "ELECTROMAGNETIC RADIATION FROM
|
||
SATTELLITE DEBRIS". Fair enough, it looks like it's going to be a good day.
|
||
|
||
I log into "FUCKYOU", (the help-desk enquiries username) and go into mail.
|
||
There's 3 new messages, the first of which is 117 lines long, so it's obviously
|
||
a storyteller. Shit, I hate that. Instead of saying "My account needs more
|
||
disk space" they tell you about how they're doing this bit of research for a
|
||
lecturer and how it's got to be in yesterday, and they almost had it but their
|
||
second cousing twice removed had a perforated herpes scab and lost a lot of
|
||
blood and had to be rushed into hospital... etc etc. I delete the message.
|
||
|
||
Second message I read, but it's one of those people who can't handle the mail
|
||
interface and send a null message, so all you get is headers. I reply to the
|
||
message saying "No worries, we can do that by next tuesday". Hope it was
|
||
important.
|
||
|
||
The last message I leave for tommorrow, because Saturday would be a dull day if
|
||
I ever had to work then.
|
||
|
||
The phone rings. I thought I'd fixed that!
|
||
|
||
I put it on hands free so I can slop some pizza into the microwave.
|
||
|
||
"Yes" I call
|
||
|
||
"Something's wrong with my Boot disk, I can't login to the server"
|
||
|
||
"Have you got your disk with you?"
|
||
|
||
"Sure!"
|
||
|
||
I go get the disk and put it and the pizza in for 5 minutes on "ULTRA-NUKE".
|
||
|
||
Six minutes later, he rings back.
|
||
|
||
"It still doesn't work, and now my disk makes a funny noise and smells."
|
||
|
||
"OH SHIT! It's that electromagnetic radiation from satellite debris again!"
|
||
|
||
"Really? I think I heard about that!" (What a tool!)
|
||
|
||
"Yep, I'm sorry, you'll have to buy another disk"
|
||
|
||
"Oh, that's ok, I don't mind, the old one was getting worn. Thanks"
|
||
|
||
"Sure, no worries. And be sure to run it through our virus checker FDISK when
|
||
you get a lot of important data on it..."
|
||
|
||
"I will! Thanks!"
|
||
|
||
"That's Ok - it's my job!"
|
||
|
||
Xcbzone is running really slow so I kill off a whole lot of database backends
|
||
that seem to be hogging all the cpu and get back into my game. Much better.
|
||
|
||
It isn't easy on the frontline, work work work...
|
||
|
||
I go to the cafeteria for a quick 2 hour snack - they're so nice to me there.
|
||
They always have been, ever since that computer glitch that registered their
|
||
kitchen as an organ recipient - very messy. I grab a couple of cans of coke
|
||
and some cheese things and cruise on back to the office via the first year
|
||
computer funamentals lab. I look in the window on the scene that unfolds it-
|
||
self to me - a lab full of first years with no demonstrator.
|
||
|
||
WELL I'LL JUST HAVE TO HELP!
|
||
|
||
I walk on in.
|
||
|
||
"Right, I'm your temporary replacement demonstrator and today we're going to
|
||
put our assignments aside for half an hour to learn about the REMARK function,
|
||
or, as it's known to the computer literate world, rm.."
|
||
|
||
I should have been a teacher you know - I've got this way with people... ...
|
||
|
||
spt@waikato.ac.nz (Simon Travaglia)
|
||
|
||
**************************************************************************************
|
||
|
||
BASTARD OPERATOR FROM HELL #10
|
||
|
||
I get invited to a lecture as a guest speaker in "Computing Operations Fund-
|
||
amentals", so I leave the control room in the capable hands of Sam, the
|
||
janitor and cruise on down.
|
||
|
||
The lecture starts and goes ok, then there's a 10 minute period where students
|
||
get to ask a "real operator" questions that they have about operations.
|
||
|
||
I get out my pad and pen.
|
||
"Before we get started" I say, "could you just call out your username before
|
||
you ask me a question, I find it easier to apply your problem to terms you
|
||
would understand better"
|
||
The lecturer eats all this up - the personal touch really gets to them. "First
|
||
Question, You over there.."
|
||
|
||
"What do you think of the privacy of individuals on a shared system?"
|
||
|
||
"What was your username please?"
|
||
|
||
"CMS1103"
|
||
|
||
>Scratchy scritch<
|
||
"Computer Privacy... Hmmm. This is a toughy really. You mean stuff like
|
||
reading the email between you and your counsellor about you not wanting to come
|
||
out of the closet?"
|
||
|
||
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGH!"
|
||
|
||
"AH. Well, he seems to have left - must have picked a bad COMPLETELY RANDOM
|
||
example. Next question. You, over there..."
|
||
|
||
"CMS1136. I was.."
|
||
|
||
"Ah yes, 1136 the only person on campus who subscribes to alt.sex.buggery.by.
|
||
sailors.dressed.in.mums.clothing"
|
||
|
||
"It's purely for research purposes!"
|
||
|
||
"I'm sure it is. You do a lot of story posting for a researcher don't you?"
|
||
|
||
"NNGggggAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGHGH!"
|
||
|
||
"Next please..."
|
||
|
||
...
|
||
|
||
..
|
||
|
||
Two minutes later, the lecture theatre's empty. That's the problem with
|
||
students today, they just don't want to learn.
|
||
|
||
I go back to control and Sam's asleep at the console again. I think he's after
|
||
my job. I make a mental note to tap into the salary database and cancel his
|
||
health and accident insurance payments. You can't be too careful..
|
||
|
||
I put the phone on the hook for the first time this afternoon and it starts
|
||
ringing almost immediately. THAT'S IT! I redirect it to 911 catch a bit of
|
||
shuteye. That'll teach them. OOPS! Almost forgot to turn over the excuse
|
||
calendar. "STATIC FROM NYLON UNDERWEAR" Nope, too plausable - although in
|
||
some cases I could do an on-site check. Nah, can't be stuffed. I'll pick
|
||
another one. "STATIC FROM PLASTIC SLIDE RULES" Now THAT'S one with a
|
||
challenge!
|
||
|
||
I un-redirect the phone and drag the rubbish bin so it rests on the printer's
|
||
stacker - another job well done. The phone rings - this could be the big one!
|
||
|
||
"Hello?"
|
||
|
||
"Hi, Um, how do I spell-check my file?"
|
||
|
||
"Simple, just type `spell' and the filename"
|
||
|
||
"Thanks"
|
||
|
||
I'm so bloody nice this morning. Especially as I know that my version of spell
|
||
introduces errors instead of detecting them. Things like changing friend to
|
||
freind and vice-versa. What the hell.
|
||
|
||
The phone rings - it's them again.
|
||
|
||
"There's something wrong with spell"
|
||
|
||
"What makes you think that?"
|
||
|
||
"Because my file is all corrupt now!"
|
||
|
||
"That doesn't sound like spell to me. Are you logged into thru PC?"
|
||
|
||
"Yes, but I can.."
|
||
|
||
"Please, leave the technical diagnosis to me... Now, is there a plastic ruler
|
||
somewhere on or in the desk?"
|
||
|
||
"Um >clunka<, yes..."
|
||
|
||
"Right. You've got a static buildup on your hard-drive caused by the changing
|
||
electrostatic field generated by the ruler - the same one that makes bits of
|
||
paper stick to it when you rub it up and down your arm..."
|
||
|
||
DUMMY MODE ON
|
||
|
||
"Oh. What do I do?"
|
||
|
||
"You know how you get paper off a ruler by hitting it on a table lots of times?
|
||
Well do that with your PC. Say 20 times - lift it about a foot off the desk &
|
||
drop it."
|
||
|
||
"Oh. OK"
|
||
|
||
>crash<
|
||
|
||
>crash<
|
||
|
||
>crash<
|
||
|
||
"Um, the screen went dark"
|
||
|
||
"That's ok, it's supposed to do that - keep going. And when you're finished,
|
||
do the screen as well, that static may have gone up the wires to it."
|
||
|
||
>crash<
|
||
|
||
>crash<
|
||
|
||
>crash<...
|
||
|
||
I hang up. I get up and go out to the public area to put honey in the floppy
|
||
drives when a guy who looked like Lee Harvey Oswald runs up to me and shoots
|
||
me, only the sound comes from the machine room, and I can hear the ex System-
|
||
Managers chuckle....
|
||
|
||
Later, in the ambulance, I realise. I forgot to get the guys username...
|
||
|
||
Then everything goes dark
|
||
|
||
spt@waikato.ac.nz (Simon Travaglia)
|
||
|
||
**************************************************************************************
|
||
|
||
BASTARD OPERATOR FROM HELL LIVES! #11
|
||
|
||
|
||
The darkness cleared as we got out of the tunnel and it occurred to me that I
|
||
couldn't be all that injured. Then again, maybe I was. Someone was going to
|
||
p..
|
||
|
||
I died.
|
||
|
||
Of course, a true BOFH considers this not really as dying, but more of going
|
||
home for the holidays.
|
||
|
||
Five seconds later, I'm getting the upside of 15Kv across the nipples. (These
|
||
ambulance guys sure know how to party).
|
||
|
||
BASTARD OPERATOR FROM HELL LIVES!
|
||
|
||
Three weeks later I'm back on my backside and feeling rested at relaxed behind
|
||
the console again. The rest has done me good, I feel *great!*. I catch up on
|
||
everyone's email then let the students know I'm back by performing an impromptu
|
||
preventative maintenance in the middle of lab time by kicking the restart
|
||
switch (They love it really)
|
||
|
||
I flip today's excuse card, "GLOBAL WARMING" YES YES YES! What a welcome
|
||
home!
|
||
|
||
It's the end of the month so all those automatic email reminder programs will
|
||
be sending messages all over the place. I set the system clock back 7 days to
|
||
buy some peace and quiet and swap the printer ribbon for the three year old one
|
||
with holes in it.
|
||
|
||
I sort through my snail mail and crack open the BOFH Monthly Newsletter,
|
||
"kill -9" and check out the articles therein. There's a nice peice of making
|
||
OS2 slow, boring and painful, but it looks exactly like the OS2 installation
|
||
instructions to me... Ah, who knows. I head straight to the BOFH Wizard
|
||
section to see if any of my articles were published. All of them!!! Even the
|
||
one about the c compiler that randomly removes one line from the source code
|
||
it's compiling!
|
||
|
||
The phone rings.
|
||
|
||
"The Screen on my PC is blank!!!"
|
||
|
||
"It's the power cord" I say
|
||
|
||
"No, I checked that. When I switch it on, it does nothing!"
|
||
|
||
"It's the power cord" I say
|
||
|
||
"No, I checked and it's all plugged in properly. There's no lights on the
|
||
keyboard or anything"
|
||
|
||
"It's the power cord" I say
|
||
|
||
"Oh. I just noticed, the cord's not plugged in properly!"
|
||
|
||
"The power cord?" I ask
|
||
|
||
"Yes... Woopsy"
|
||
|
||
"No worries at all" I say "Is it all working well now?"
|
||
|
||
"Yes, I think so. I'm sorry, you WERE right all along"
|
||
|
||
"Yes, we're getting a lot of this, it's due to the current Global Warming
|
||
problem. It causes random thermal expansion and contraction resulting in
|
||
temperature induced movement of friction based holding mechanisms.."
|
||
|
||
I listen carefully. Nothing. In other words, <DUMMY MODE ON>...
|
||
|
||
"You can fix it permanently tho'" I say
|
||
|
||
"Really? How?"
|
||
|
||
"Well it's all to do with lowering salt deposits on the metal contacts"
|
||
|
||
"Oh!" (Dummy mode irrevocably engaged)
|
||
|
||
"All you need to do is just take the power plug out deposit some dilute mineral
|
||
salts on it. Do you have some dilute mineral salts on you?"
|
||
|
||
"Uh, no?"
|
||
|
||
"Ok, no worries, just stick it in your mouth drool into it. But make sure you
|
||
wipe the plug first to get rid of any germs, and TURN THE SWITCH OFF ON THE
|
||
MONITOR before you do - we don't want a nasty accident
|
||
|
||
"Oh. Ok!"
|
||
|
||
>Fzzzt< >clunk!<
|
||
|
||
I hang up as the receiver hits the floor. Disk space is too good for them.
|
||
|
||
spt@waikato.ac.nz (Simon Travaglia)
|
||
|
||
**************************************************************************************
|
||
|
||
BASTARD OPERATOR FROM HELL #12
|
||
|
||
I get to work and I'm a bit tired so I plug a thick hunk of copper across the
|
||
three phase supply and throw the switch. The room is plunged into
|
||
darkness as the circuit breakers trip and for once the machine room is silent.
|
||
|
||
I like it.
|
||
|
||
I pop the phone off the hook and close the curtains on the observation window.
|
||
Now it's *really* dark in there. I wouldn't be surprised if someone had an
|
||
accident in here..
|
||
|
||
I lift a couple of floor tiles up in the darkness and call our maintenance
|
||
contractors saying the mini popped the breaker again, then replace the fuses in
|
||
it with a couple of nails and short the power supply to ground. You can't just
|
||
hope for this sort of thing, you've got to MAKE it happen.
|
||
|
||
15 minutes later the engineer arives and falls down the hole. I pop the floor
|
||
tiles back on just as the System Manager (a new and very thorough individual)
|
||
comes in, telling me to watch out, someone could really hurt themselves in the
|
||
dark...
|
||
|
||
I nod & tell him that we can't really afford all the downtime, and should I
|
||
just throw the breaker and hope that there was no major fault. After thinking
|
||
about the negative publicity we're getting already, he makes the last decision
|
||
of his short career and tells me to go ahead.
|
||
|
||
Later, when the smoke clears I examine the smoking remains of the mini. Not a
|
||
pretty sight...
|
||
|
||
"Strange that the breaker jammed shut, isn't it?" I say to our manager as he
|
||
packs up the personal things in his office. "One in a million chance. A pity
|
||
that someone saw what you did and posted the whole story to comp.misc. You'll
|
||
be lucky to get a job managing a car computer after all that publicity..."
|
||
|
||
I go back to the machine room and throw the rest of the breakers to liven
|
||
everything up, then login and start deleting users' email. I spot an
|
||
interesting off-the-record sexual proposition from our male consultant to a
|
||
member of the men's swim team which will make a good motd, so I copy it there,
|
||
modify root's owner name to be "Winker" and password to be "ljkadlkajflkj"
|
||
(then call the big boss to report a suspected intrusion). Should be at least a
|
||
couple of hours of login time before we can sort that out. In the meantime,
|
||
people are just going to have to read that message...
|
||
I realise the message has been read when I hear the gunshot from behind the
|
||
consultant's closed door.
|
||
|
||
I edit the online helpdesk information and change the phone number to the
|
||
System Manager's - he'll probably appreciate the extra calls at such a sad
|
||
time...
|
||
|
||
I hear another shot and realise he won't be answering any calls today.
|
||
|
||
I put the phone back on the hook and flip today's excuse card. "Poor power
|
||
conditioning". Too plausible. "STATIC BUILDUP". Still a bit too plausible
|
||
for my liking, but I don't want to run out of cards before the end of the year,
|
||
so I decide to run with it.
|
||
|
||
The phone rings almost as soon as I've got "Top Gun" in the video machine so I
|
||
pause the video and put the phone on hands-free.
|
||
|
||
"I think I've bought a bad floppy disk"
|
||
|
||
"Yes?" I wonder if I've suddenly become the consumer's watchdog?
|
||
|
||
"Well, I've got this disk and it won't format. All the others in the box did
|
||
so I thought I must have a bad disk"
|
||
|
||
"Why are you calling me about this?" I ask
|
||
|
||
"Well, the disk says guaranteed; where do I go to get a replacement?"
|
||
|
||
Ah! Of course.
|
||
|
||
"Well, let's see. Are you sure it's the disk, and not just some problem with
|
||
static buildup?"
|
||
|
||
"Huh?"
|
||
|
||
"Static Buildup, you know, static electricity that's passed from you to the
|
||
computer"
|
||
|
||
"But I'm wearing a wrist strap!"
|
||
|
||
Around about now I realise I'm deep in dweeb country. Wrist straps aren't
|
||
fashion accessories in my part of town...
|
||
|
||
"Of course you are, but your average wrist strap has a 1 meg resistor in series
|
||
with it, a *really* poor earth. What you need is a direct earth connection.
|
||
Hang onto the frame of something that's earthed properly."
|
||
|
||
"What, you mean like our stainless steel bench?"
|
||
|
||
"Excellent. Now, have you got a paper clip to discharge the static with?"
|
||
|
||
"Hang on. Yeah"
|
||
|
||
"Ok, with your other hand, poke the clip thru the ventilation holes at the back
|
||
of the unit, and just touch the contact at the end of the thick red wire."
|
||
|
||
"The one going to the power supply?"
|
||
|
||
"Yep, that's it"
|
||
|
||
"....Hey, isn't that the li... >kzzzzt!< >clunk<"
|
||
|
||
Another call solved by the helpdesk from hell...
|
||
|
||
spt@grace.waikato.ac.nz
|
||
|
||
**************************************************************************************
|
||
|
||
BASTARD OPERATOR FROM HELL #13
|
||
|
||
I'm busy with my new shell replacement login script, and it's almost foolproof.
|
||
Let's just say it pops up with:
|
||
|
||
"Yes means No and No means Yes. Delete all files [Y]? "
|
||
|
||
upon login. I'm really starting to worry about the number of account breakins
|
||
we've been having recently.... The manager isn't though. His main concern
|
||
appears to be the number of computer-related fatalities on campus. Funny
|
||
world, isn't it?
|
||
|
||
I flip the excuse card. "DOPPLER EFFECT" Sounds implausible enough that it's
|
||
plausable - with a little work of course.
|
||
|
||
The phone, the bane of my existance, rings.
|
||
|
||
"Hello, Computer Room" I say, being helpful
|
||
|
||
"Is this the Technicians?" The caller asks.
|
||
|
||
Amazing the number of deaf people that use these things. What the hell, I'm
|
||
bored..
|
||
|
||
"Yes it is" I lie (Nixon could've done with me)
|
||
|
||
"I've got a problem with my floppy drive, it doesn't seem to be reading all the
|
||
time"
|
||
|
||
"Hmmm. How old is the drive?"
|
||
|
||
"About a year.."
|
||
|
||
"And it sometimes fails and sometimes works, but it's starting to fail more and
|
||
more?"
|
||
|
||
"YES!"
|
||
|
||
"Yeah, it's the Doppler effect of magnetism.."
|
||
|
||
"I thought that only happened with light and sound?"
|
||
|
||
>Bullshit mode ON<
|
||
|
||
"Yes, well it's been found that on a spinning surface, like a disk, the
|
||
particle's magnetic alignment changes, especially when the head is stationary
|
||
and slightly magnetised in respect to it."
|
||
|
||
"Duh. Oh"
|
||
|
||
"So, what you need to do is to demagnetise the head. Have you got a disk head
|
||
demagnetising loop?"
|
||
|
||
"Uh.... No?"
|
||
|
||
"OK, we'll have to do it the hard way. Have you got your original diskettes
|
||
for your software?"
|
||
|
||
"Yeah."
|
||
|
||
"Right, chuck them in the drive, one by one, and format them."
|
||
|
||
"WHAT?!"
|
||
|
||
"Don't worry, it won't work - remember the drive is failing. All that happens
|
||
is that the virgin magnetic field of the disks realigns the magnetic field of
|
||
the head, because they weren't written by a doppler effected drive."
|
||
|
||
"Oh, yeah!"
|
||
|
||
"So, when it gives you a write error and asks if you want to continue, you say
|
||
yes. Do it with all your original diskettes, then, to complete the
|
||
demagnetising process, run a head cleaning diskette through the drive as well,
|
||
which will pick up the stray magenetic particles clinging to the head."
|
||
|
||
"Oh. Ok. Thanks"
|
||
|
||
"Don't thank me - IT'S MY JOB"
|
||
|
||
I put the phone down, it rings again. It's the big boss.
|
||
|
||
"Simon, could you come to my office please?"
|
||
|
||
>ALERT!<
|
||
|
||
Quick as I can, I press the panic button on our LAN-Analyser, or to be more
|
||
precise, the "Generate 90% random traffic" button
|
||
|
||
"Sure, would you like me to come now, or..
|
||
|
||
The other phone rings. I chuck it on hands free
|
||
|
||
"Hello, Computer Room, Simon Here, How can I help?"
|
||
|
||
"THE NETWORK IS DOWN, ALL OUR PCS HAVE SHIT THEMSELVES!" the voice on hands
|
||
-free screams into the mouthpeice of the other phone
|
||
|
||
"I see" I say calmly "Yes, our Monitor shows it up, it looks to be a bad
|
||
segment of thinwire - please hold the line while I unplug it"
|
||
|
||
I press the "I just got a raise" button (AKA "Stop Traffic Generation") on the
|
||
Lan Analyser, and almost immediately the user shouts back "Excellent, it's
|
||
working now, thanks"
|
||
|
||
"That's ok, don't mention it. Have a nice day"
|
||
|
||
The big-boss has been listening to all this, so I reckon that the trip to his
|
||
office won't be so bad after all. I tell him I'll be right down as soon as I
|
||
secure the net and hang up. On the way down, I invent a new buzzword which
|
||
always keep management happy. Complete Transient Lockout. Sounds much better
|
||
than pulling the plug. Like Master-Reset sounds better than off-switch.
|
||
|
||
I get to his office and the staffing officer is there too. Uh-oh.
|
||
|
||
"Simon - How would you like to be our System Manager?"
|
||
|
||
?!!!
|
||
|
||
"Well... I don't know, I like that hands on.."
|
||
|
||
"Extra 10 grand a year, Varisty Car.."
|
||
|
||
"Monaro?"
|
||
|
||
"Ok"
|
||
|
||
"Sold!"
|
||
|
||
....And so ends the saga, as it should have at #10.
|
||
|
||
**************************************************************************************
|
||
|
||
The Bastard Operator from Hell Rides Again.
|
||
|
||
Don't ask how I got back, I just did. Suffice to say that work frowns upon
|
||
management material that uses electrodes to gain client information.
|
||
Especially when you do it to the boss's in-laws. That's his entertainment.
|
||
|
||
So I'm back in the saddle. Unfortunately, that means there's a surplus of
|
||
operators in the computer room. One slam of the tape safe door later, the
|
||
problem is solved. The knocking dies down in a couple of hours, so I guess the
|
||
safes really *are* airtight.
|
||
|
||
To welcome myself back, I send a message out saying there's a shutdown in 10
|
||
minutes. 5 minutes later I shut the system down. I love doing that. I see
|
||
the hard-disk activity lights flicker as the "disk recovery" phase of startup
|
||
run through, globally deleting journal files. Funny how we always start up
|
||
with lots of free disk..
|
||
|
||
I just get Wolfenstein started and the phone rings. What the hell, I almost
|
||
missed it while I was away, so I answer it.
|
||
|
||
"Computer Room" I say
|
||
|
||
"THAT WASN'T TEN MINUTES!!!!" the voice at the other end screams
|
||
|
||
"What wasn't 10 minutes?" I ask in a pleasant manner. I can see that things
|
||
have deteriorated in my absence. Spare the rod and spoil the rm -r, that's
|
||
what I always say.
|
||
|
||
"THAT! You said it was going to be te... >pause<... Um, who is this?"
|
||
|
||
"This is the Operator; who did you expect it to be?"
|
||
|
||
"Darren? Is that Darren?"
|
||
|
||
"Uh, No. Darren.. Darren is... unavailable... at the moment."
|
||
|
||
"Oh. Do you know when he'll be back in the control room?"
|
||
|
||
"Probably around the time of our next backup - the year 2007 or sometime
|
||
thereabouts I should imagine"
|
||
|
||
He's toying with asking me if he can recover their files or not. I let him
|
||
dangle for a few moments.
|
||
|
||
"Was that all?", I say, nice as pie
|
||
|
||
"Well.... NO, it doesn't matter"
|
||
|
||
"Of course it doesn't. Would you like me to check if your files are ok?" I
|
||
prompt
|
||
|
||
"Would you? I'm a bit new to this system and I'm not too sure what to do"
|
||
|
||
"Sure. What was your username?"
|
||
|
||
Everything inside him is screaming at him not to say it - People beside him
|
||
are screaming at him not to say it.
|
||
|
||
He says it.
|
||
|
||
You just can't tell some people.
|
||
|
||
"Ok. Well, it looks ok to me, all your files are in perfect condition!" I say
|
||
|
||
"THEY ARE!! GREAT!!"
|
||
|
||
The relief in his voice is overwhelming
|
||
|
||
>clickety< >clickety<
|
||
|
||
"Yep. Both your x-defaults and AND your newsrc file are ok"
|
||
|
||
"But.. But what about my site monitoring data?"
|
||
|
||
"Sorry?"
|
||
|
||
"There were about 10 files in my research subdirectory, data I'd collected over
|
||
the past year."
|
||
|
||
"Oh. Well, I can't see anything. Perhaps you backed them up somewhere?"
|
||
|
||
"I put a copy in my girlfriend's account.."
|
||
|
||
"What was her username?"
|
||
|
||
"Uh.... >pause< ... "
|
||
|
||
Is he going to do it? Is he?
|
||
|
||
He does.
|
||
|
||
Like running down a snail with a steamroller...
|
||
|
||
>clickety clickety<
|
||
|
||
"Nope, nothing there either. OH! Hang on, there looks like some form
|
||
of journal file in your account, it's quite large... I think maybe you should
|
||
login there and try to recover with it..."
|
||
|
||
I cat about 100 man files together and slop them in his girlfriends account
|
||
under then name "rsrch.j"
|
||
|
||
"How do I do that?"
|
||
|
||
"Ok; can you login yet?"
|
||
|
||
"Yeah, I think so..... Ok, I'm logged in"
|
||
|
||
"Ok, You need to run the file thru the mailer to clear the eigth bit, other-
|
||
wise the journal recovery will probably choke with an instruction error"
|
||
|
||
>DUMMY MODE ON<
|
||
|
||
"Oh... How do I do that?"
|
||
|
||
"Well, you have to type in `mail root < rsrch.j'"
|
||
|
||
"Ok!"
|
||
|
||
"HANG ON! You have to type it with your nose."
|
||
|
||
"WH..? WHY?"
|
||
|
||
I flip the excuse card till something appropriate pops up. "HARDWARE STRESS
|
||
FRACTURES"
|
||
|
||
"Well, it's got to do with hardware stress fractures. You probably type too
|
||
hard with your fingers which upsets the internals of the keyboard. It's got to
|
||
do with dry joints and electromagnetic inductance"
|
||
|
||
>DUMMY MODE IRREVOCABLY ON<
|
||
|
||
"Oh. Ok"
|
||
|
||
"Now, you've got to type it in 20 times"
|
||
|
||
"Sure, ok"
|
||
|
||
He hangs up.
|
||
|
||
I ring campus security
|
||
|
||
"Hey, we've got another crazy in the lab. Apparently he's typing with his
|
||
nose. He might be armed..."
|
||
|
||
3 minutes later I hear the shots. I close his account, he won't be needing it
|
||
any more..
|
||
|
||
|
||
The phone rings. It's my mum.
|
||
|
||
"Hi Ma, what can I do for you"
|
||
|
||
"Simon, I've got a problem at work, the floppy disk with all my personal stuff
|
||
on it is failing I think"
|
||
|
||
"Oh. Ok. Well, have you got any nail polish remover and some cotton wool
|
||
buds?"
|
||
|
||
"Yes"
|
||
|
||
"Ok, take your disk out, and clean that brown stuff off the inside of the disk.
|
||
That's what gets the heads dirty. You should just have a nice clean plastic
|
||
disk when you've cleaned it completely"
|
||
|
||
"Oh, Ok Simon, Thanks"
|
||
|
||
"You're welcome. Oh; remember that time you wouldn't let me go over to
|
||
Graeme's place to watch videos when I was 5?"
|
||
|
||
"Yeah, why?"
|
||
|
||
"Nothing.."
|
||
--
|
||
Simon Travaglia, spt@waikato.ac.nz
|
||
|
||
**************************************************************************************
|
||
|
||
THE BASTARD OPERATOR FROM HELL #15
|
||
|
||
It's a warm afternoon in the computer room. I dunno, maybe I should turn the
|
||
chillers back on, but what the hell, I've got a cold and I need to keep warm if
|
||
I go into the machine room.
|
||
|
||
I flip today's excuse card. Magnetic Interferance from Money/Credit Cards.
|
||
Hmmm, vague enough to be plausible. The phone rings
|
||
|
||
"Hello, Computer Room" I say
|
||
"Hi!" the caller says "I want to fit some RAM to my machine to upgrade the
|
||
memory. I just bought some 4 meg chips off a guy in town and wanted to know if
|
||
you guys would fit it."
|
||
|
||
"Well," I say "normally we would, but today the technicians are busy trying to
|
||
gas axe open our tape safe to see why it smells - You could probably fit it
|
||
yourself though.."
|
||
|
||
"Really? I thought that was dangerous?" she says
|
||
|
||
"Nah nah, it's safe as houses, just remember to get the chips out of those
|
||
stupid plastic bags before they stuff them up altogether"
|
||
|
||
"Really?! How do they do that?"
|
||
|
||
"Well, you've heard of static RAM right?"
|
||
|
||
"Yes..."
|
||
|
||
"Well, Why pack static RAM in an antistatic bag? Sounds really suspect if you
|
||
ask me!!! Yours might even be stuffed already, so you'd better remove them.."
|
||
|
||
>D.M. ON<
|
||
|
||
"Oh >crinkle crinkle< Ok. Now what do I do?"
|
||
|
||
"Ok, you'll need to get rid of the charge those bags have probably given
|
||
your RAM, after all, you don't want to blow up your computer, do you? Get rid
|
||
of any woolens that you're wearing and switch to nylon. Run round some cheap
|
||
carpet, then comb your hair a couple of dozen times and then plug the chips
|
||
into the comb to keep them steady. Turn your machine on, then plug the memory
|
||
in and out about 10 times to get the slots warmed up. Then slop them back in,
|
||
flick the power switch half a dozen times and that should do it!"
|
||
|
||
"Hey thanks!"
|
||
|
||
"Don't mention a thing, all part of the service"
|
||
|
||
I leave for lunch - after all I have been here for 10 minutes solid - and
|
||
walk past the student labs. I hear a mass of beeping and look round to see a
|
||
user's screen full of garbage. They've either typed an image file or
|
||
fingered my account and got the core file I renamed as .plan. By the time he
|
||
gets his terminal sorted out, his allocation of connect time will be all used
|
||
up. A tragic shame.
|
||
|
||
I get back from lunch early a couple of hours later and slip into the Usenet
|
||
news directory tree, slide on down to alt.binaries.pictures.erotica, then
|
||
start deleting parts 3 or 4 of the really long gifs. (After taking a copies
|
||
myself and overwriting them to the last user backup tape, of course).
|
||
|
||
Then I get ready to watch the videos I got out from the video shop by taking
|
||
the printers offline and disconnecting the phone, and I notice that the frame
|
||
-grabber video player is gone from the office. Someone has obviously moved
|
||
it while I was away...
|
||
|
||
I make some discrete enquiries under the threat of rm -r, and find out that
|
||
the secretary now has posession of it. So I mosey on down and ask to take it
|
||
away. Only I can't because I've got to sign *THE BOOK*, saying when it will
|
||
be back, how many minutes of tape I'm going to put thru it, if I'm going to
|
||
be watching PAL or NTSC etc. Then it's all fed into her *personal* computer
|
||
(which I'm not allowed to touch because it doesn't belong to us) so she can
|
||
produce full colour plots about who's not working in the department.
|
||
|
||
I mention that it's not coming back - as I was the person that put the hammer
|
||
through the frame grabber in the first place, I should be the one to hold
|
||
the video. She then tells me that that's not acceptable, and I will have to
|
||
find some other video to use, she needs access to get to the video 24 hours a
|
||
day, in case someone needs it. And because she takes her PC home at night, I
|
||
needn't think that I can fake any borrowing records. All this I see for what
|
||
it really is - a thinly disguised attempt to gain access to the seat of power
|
||
(The Operators Room) by the Bastard Secretary from Hell.
|
||
|
||
I decide to let it slide for once, after all she does get the snail mail
|
||
into the correct distribution slots about 20% of the time, so that can't be
|
||
so bad.
|
||
|
||
Next morning, I get in about 2pm and find that I have three departmental
|
||
memos about the status of other stuff that is in the Computer Room that has
|
||
been "incorrectly inventorised" as "Awaiting Repair" (The shithead technician
|
||
has been leaking privileged information in an effort to score the secretary
|
||
again - A tragic shame, I used to quite like him..) with a note from the Big
|
||
Boss authorizing the secretary to investigate. Attached to all that is a
|
||
note from the secretary herself stating that to action this she requires a 24
|
||
hour access key to the Computer Room.
|
||
|
||
ONCE AGAIN I realise that letting things slide never pays off. I look up the
|
||
secretary's RS232, Ethernet, Appletalk and Phone port numbers and yank them
|
||
from the comms rack. What the hell, I kick the circuit breakers to her power
|
||
points and lighting too while I'm at it. Then I strip off some mains cable &
|
||
plug it in..
|
||
|
||
The phone rings a couple of minutes later.
|
||
|
||
"WHAT'S HAPPENED TO MY ROOM?!" the secretary screeches at me.
|
||
|
||
"Your room?" I say, in a pleasant and innocent manner, using caller ID to
|
||
track down the room she's in. Ah! Just down the corridor
|
||
|
||
"Yes, MY ROOM! The power's gone off and everything is dead"
|
||
|
||
"Oh dear. What were you doing when the power went off? Perhaps you did
|
||
something stupid?"
|
||
|
||
"I did NOT! I was working on *my* PC!"
|
||
|
||
The way she says "*my*" is really getting to annoy me.
|
||
|
||
"You were working on *your* PC?" I say, reflectively.
|
||
|
||
"Yes!" She snarls
|
||
|
||
"Not your *own* *very personal* computer?"
|
||
|
||
"Yes.." She doesn't know what I'm getting at yet.
|
||
|
||
And now I exercise the basic law of Bastard Operating which roughly says,
|
||
Bastard Operators don't just win. Anyone can win. Bastard Operators win and
|
||
totally DEMORALISE. That's *real* winning.
|
||
|
||
"I hope you switched your machine off before you called"
|
||
|
||
"Why?" she barks, a little uncertain.
|
||
|
||
"Well, it's just that personal property isn't covered by the site insurance
|
||
policy. Why, if there was a power surge, heaven knows WHAT could happen to an
|
||
expensive peice of delicate *personal* machinery like..."
|
||
|
||
I hear her place the receiver down *very* quietly and sprint on tippy toe to
|
||
the door. As I repeatedly toggle her circuit breaker I start thinking about
|
||
what I'll be watching on video this afternoon... Still on the phone, I hear a
|
||
bang way in the background which probably means her pc has shit itself...
|
||
|
||
10 minutes later the phone in the control room. It's the secretary, and she
|
||
sounds a little stressed. I manage to translate her sporadic outbursts
|
||
into a request that her lines be connected to her terminal. I tell her they
|
||
are, and has she got the technician to look at it. She hangs up.
|
||
|
||
No sense of humour.
|
||
|
||
10 minutes later still, the technician rings up and tells me all the
|
||
secretaries lines are dead. I tell him I'll check them out, then plug her
|
||
ethernet, phone and Appletalk back in. Which leaves RS232...
|
||
|
||
Another 10 minutes later I'm startled out of my snooze by the phone. It's
|
||
the technician still greasing the secretary by being super-efficient. He
|
||
tells me the RS232 still isn't working. I make some excuse about dry joints on
|
||
the plug etc, and ask him to put a new plug on the cable. I hear the
|
||
>snip!< as he clips the old plug off, and the receiver rattle as he starts to
|
||
strip the wire in a manly way with his teeth. Then I connect the mains cable
|
||
to my end of the RS232.
|
||
|
||
As soon I hear the ">ERRRRRREEEERRKKK!<" coming down the receiver at me, I know
|
||
that the "incorrect inventory" problem won't be repeated.
|
||
|
||
Another problem solved by the Bastard Operator from Hell
|
||
|
||
It's a dirty, filthy, stinking dog-kill-dog job, but someone's got to enjoy it
|
||
|
||
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
||
This is the final chapter (at least for a while). I'm off to find a job in
|
||
Britian somewhere in a couple of weeks, so I'll let BOFH rest. Funnily
|
||
enough, someone sent me a copy of BOFH #1 with someone else's name as author
|
||
the other day - they thought I might be interested in it.. Live long and
|
||
prosper! - Simon spt@waikato.ac.nz
|
||
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
||
|
||
- End of File -
|
||
|
||
Ubiquitous - Issue 1, File 10:
|
||
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
|
||
|
||
Final Comments:
|
||
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
|
||
|
||
OK! Still with us? Good! Well much of that shit was written quite a while
|
||
ago. I was waiting a one person to write up an article on defeating
|
||
character traps on FTP sites (especially warez sites!!). Well I never got
|
||
the article, so the mag's kinda late! Oh well shit happens!!
|
||
|
||
Now before you start saying that I'm plagiarizing Red Knight for his
|
||
Zapping and Vending Machine articles, let me say that "THAT WAS ME!!". I
|
||
changed that handle cause it was so lame!!! I used to have another handle
|
||
which I used when I first wrote those articles but changed it when I started
|
||
uploading it. An interesting observation to make is that once I called the
|
||
Hacker's Haven in the U.S.A and found both the vending and Zapping files had
|
||
beaten me there!!! And yes they did have that lame handle!!!
|
||
|
||
Secondly, I am including things like BOFH in their ENTIRETY. This is the
|
||
work of somebody else and I am merely including it as a highlight of computer
|
||
folklore to people who haven't experienced it!! It is important to note that
|
||
a while ago, some FUCKING LAMER renamed the BOFH files as his/her own.
|
||
Whoever this was is a prick/bitch!! The REAL and RIGHTFUL author of this cool
|
||
piece of work is Simon Travaglia and if anyone disputes that I'll rip their
|
||
kneecaps off!!
|
||
|
||
Finally, I will be setting up ways (probably through other people) to
|
||
contact me and submit articles. I can be contacted on the Australian Board
|
||
Neural Hijack. To submit articles there simply send PRIVATE mail to me under
|
||
the subject heading of RE: Ubiquitous. Probably best if you tell me you have
|
||
an article or material to submit and included a zipped file of the article
|
||
with it! Mail me for info on submitting articles!
|
||
|
||
The next issue will be more or less the shape of future articles to come.
|
||
But between now and then there are people to talk to and regulars to
|
||
recruit!!! So until then, Stay free and have fun!!
|
||
|
||
Regards,
|
||
|
||
mE!
|
||
|
||
November 1996.
|
||
|
||
- End of File -
|