The Blogosphere

Bloggers (and YouTubers) have a misguided perception that anyone cares what they have to say.  I know this intrinsically as I write, and am well aware that few, if any, will ever read these words.

Regardless, most content “creators” operate under this fallacy, assuming that not only do people as a whole have the remotest semblance of interest in their thoughts, but that they should be paid for their troubles.  Enter advertising.

But this is not commentary on the economic model of capitalism.  This is commentary on ego–the way we use the word now, not the Freudian definition.  In short: arrogance.  I find it increasingly difficult to find web content devoid of advertising, regardless of the content’s apparent quality.  And we are enabling this trend by democratizing ads–companies that provide advertising scripts freely–in a sense…adsense…as it used to be called.

The argument is old, that commercializing art devalues it.  That may be true, but it doesn’t prove that that art is absent entirely.  In fact, I would go so far as to say that exists in the same quantity as it always has, and now we have to tools to enjoy it without distraction.

For those who have yet to embrace ad-blocking, for whatever reason, a tool exists which goes beyond–element blocking.  Yes, it is possible to selectively block any part of a web page that I find detracts from the quality of the article itself.  For example, on one particular blog I frequent, I have blocked 19 superfluous and unsightly banners, ads, and columns promoting the site’s other content.  One might argue that doing so is messing with the designer’s intended creation, but that’s nonsense, for the alternative is not viewing his content at all.

So really this is just an overly wordy recommendation of the browser plugin uBlock Origin.

Also check out Privacy Badger, NoScript, and Cookie AutoDelete.

Take back the web and enjoy it for what it should be: artistic and intellectual content.

–Simon

Kill it With Ozone!

Dogs pee in the house.  It’s an inevitability, despite their willingness to please their human masters.  Bladders are small, and days are long.  Ergo, dogs pee in the house.

A myriad of devices exist which attempt to deal with this problem.  And indeed, the pee can be extracted, but residual proteins remain.  And these proteins stink!  So, a myriad of products exist which attempt to neutralize them.  And…none of them work.

So I was left with a choice: kill the dog and burn the carpet, or live with the smell.  Neither seemed ideal.  But then I remembered the final invoice I received from our last apartment.  In it, a specific deduction was itemized from our deposit: an ozone treatment for the dog smell.  Faye had a tendency to pee in the second bedroom.

At the time, I considered this bizarre procedure to be limited to a specialized commercial application, and therefore necessitating expensive equipment.  But they say smell is the sense most strongly linked to memory, and when walking down the hallway one day, the stench wafted into my nose and my hippocampus short-circuited.

A quick search through Amazon revealed many affordable products.  So, as I normally do, I made a selection based on recommendations and ordered the Enerzen ozone generator.

Excitedly, I unboxed it as soon as it arrived.  I concluded that the best place to test it would be the bathroom, since if anything went wrong, the room already had ventilation.  I set it for a modest 20 minutes, plugged it in, then immediately ran away as its insides glowed purple.  An overreaction, perhaps.  But I’ve seen enough post-apocalyptic movies to not be disconcerted at the color (even if it’s oxidation, not radiation).

I returned an hour later, figuring it had been enough time to dissipate.  I figured wrong.  In fact, it was 2 days before the ozone smell was finally gone.  But, the bathroom no longer held that mild mildewy essence.

Unfortunately for Liz, it triggered memories of her numerous hospital visits and she became nauseous.  Turns out that they use these to sterilize surgery rooms.

But despite that, it was a preferable alternative to dog pee.  I started treating the carpet, cleverly devising a method to trap the ozone under a storage bin so as to avoid flooding the house in painful free radicals:

But as it turns out, an ozone generator can’t keep generating ozone with oxygen (ah hindsight).  So the viable output of this method was insufficient to deodorize anything.  So now, I’m running it for short bursts in problem areas, which is difficult because I can’t evacuate the house, and too much will kill the houseplants.

So it remains to be seen if this tool is effective, since I have yet to run a proper test.  Hopefully the multitude of supporting anecdotes out there will foreshadow my own success.  And if not, I can always kill the dog and burn the carpet.

–Simon

Diagnostics

Cars have come a long way in terms of providing information to the operator, but I still have an older car, and this diagnostic feedback is generally limited to: “Something’s wrong with your oil pressure” and “Something’s generally wrong”.  And aside from inciting panic, this information has done little to help, other than causing me to schedule a future appointment with a mechanic which, in one notable case, was way too late (I had no oil in my car for some reason, the oil light didn’t come on–just the engine light, and I drove the car for a week this way–resulting in fused cylinders).

So it’s no surprise that I’ve long had my eye out for an OBDII reader.  Eventually I began to look in earnest, and decided upon this cute little tool:

I chose this model for a couple reasons: mostly because it was the only model that supported Bluetooth for iOS (I didn’t want to mess around with switching between WiFi), and its software was being actively maintained.  Specifically, one can run the diagnostic on any outstanding error codes, see an explanation, and receive a list of historically-successful repairs for the given code–not a bad deal for $99 (no subscription required).

Of minor concern is that the device apparently lacked any form of signal authentication.  But upon further research, I found that it got around this by restricting sync time to one minute after car start, and thereafter limited connections to one device.  Given the range of Bluetooth, I found this to be reasonable.

And after doing some playing around, I found a live data dashboard.  This customizable screen outputs selected data to my phone’s screen in real-time, which is more cool than anything, since I doubt it will actively help me discover a problem when it happens.  Still, cool.

Note that I did not take this screenshot while driving

Nerdy tech aside, I’m hoping that this time, when something goes wrong, I’ll at least be able to determine the immediate severity and avoid having to replace another engine.

And did I mention it was cool?

–Simon

More Botnets

About this time last year, I wrote about the frequency at which I received failed login attempts to my mail server.  Since then, I’ve upgraded my border firewall, but they still get through–a consequence of needing an exposed port.  So far, the IPs still get blacklisted:

198.12.93.218
198.23.132.250
205.234.153.210
5.39.219.214
46.166.160.153
193.189.117.88
155.133.18.178
23.95.24.162
46.105.120.50
151.80.147.113
212.129.4.178
151.80.147.144
38.87.45.116
52.22.59.41
209.95.52.130
80.11.96.236
166.176.251.239
195.154.116.169
96.43.128.14
195.154.119.141
195.154.105.115
50.116.123.186
104.238.129.26
118.193.179.177
195.154.110.230
122.224.248.250
203.171.31.60
31.170.104.245
220.244.5.154
111.204.219.197
175.100.189.174
111.68.98.136
180.250.9.52
177.39.152.250
59.127.51.128
184.74.44.51
173.189.252.21
50.252.84.9
70.15.249.139
173.164.154.100
69.199.239.200
63.223.116.37
173.13.117.142
71.10.87.50
23.246.213.202
104.238.141.153
104.168.145.83
51.255.235.154
104.168.141.86
107.179.40.46
45.76.81.226
23.254.215.249
46.218.164.132
96.255.34.171
138.197.1.145
195.154.103.205
195.154.77.202
62.210.25.5
74.113.139.17
23.254.211.205
176.183.204.200
65.245.57.3
192.86.34.108
45.32.203.111
144.217.213.132
66.194.234.110
207.118.200.111
185.81.158.149
144.217.211.219
192.64.114.145
62.210.81.151
45.63.39.109
104.168.136.60
185.81.158.16
104.168.136.70
12.50.34.218
45.76.242.13
108.160.155.101
195.154.57.6
138.68.8.2
195.154.53.245
72.51.37.205
193.251.78.73
195.154.226.17
23.254.215.188
69.132.12.136
104.168.147.83
52.43.83.218
62.210.188.15
193.70.13.238
23.254.215.31
100.33.244.74
104.168.141.146
80.209.253.238
23.254.217.28
104.254.247.223
104.168.148.204
66.109.33.252
207.54.154.127
204.228.248.100
70.191.153.186
199.36.196.28
104.168.138.191
104.236.19.164
162.245.85.163
45.58.139.117
68.65.120.48

Up 107 IPs so far, out of 4.3 Billion-ish.  A drop in the bucket, but it’s still disconcerting how many botnets are out there.

Update your security patches.

–Simon

Never Throw a Cord Out

This story begins with a remote-controlled centipede.

And how many stories have that preface?

Yet it’s true.  My mother’s boyfriend (Roger) is a big kid at heart.  And to me, that’s very relatable.  I too seek excuses to wander the Nerf isle, chuckling merrily at the myriad of mischievous machinations–made by malicious Man.  How I long to fork over the $150 for the battery-powered chain-fed fully automatic Nerf LMG.  And I totally would, were I to have a son instead of a daughter.

But Roger’s sense of humor provides the excuse, and I find myself buying him the toys that I secretly want for myself.  And he in turn does the same to me.  And so, I found myself with a really cool remote-controlled centipede.

[End preface 1]

I collect electrical cords.  Sure, proprietary monitor ports have given way to VGA, then to DVI, then to HDMI; but what of those old and still-functioning peripherals?  They might be re-purposed one day, and then where will I find one of those old cables?  So I keep them all, in a cardboard box, in which they’ve amalgamated into some form of insulated copper Gordian Knot, but I know that the moment I throw one out, I’ll need it.  And despite Liz’s protestations to what she considers “hoarding”, the box remains.

[End preface 2]

The centipede has an internal battery which cannot be swapped.  I find that unusual for a toy.  And equally unusual is that the toy did not come with a charging cable, given the clearly-labeled charging port on the centipede’s ventral service.  It was a situation of little importance given the far more demanding obligations at hand, but it irritated me.  And so, I dove into the box, looking for a cable–any cable–which might fit the connecting port on the centipede’s underbelly.

And found a cord I did, much to my surprise.  Yet, the cord’s other end was USB, which made me really wonder what it’s original purpose was.  No matter, what I needed then was an adapter.

But then I considered–how many different charging cables terminated in USB?  To answer, I dug through the box some more.  I found (before I grew weary of knots): USB micro, USB mini, and the unknown and aforementioned centipede charger.  I considered: wouldn’t it be nice if I could plug them all into something akin to a charging station?

And then I found the old USB hub, which was powered.  Huzzah!  I plugged the hub into an outlet, then the various cables into the hub (including the centipede-charger).  And sure enough, the centipede indicated successful charging via glowing eyes.  And now, I can plug additional devices into the hub to charge alongside the centipede.

So what started as a very insignificant dilemma turned into a more expansive solution.  I now have a charging station on the tech shelf for any modern electronic which might need a battery charge.

And they’ll all have a centipede guardian.

–Simon