This morning, I signed into Yahoo! mail. On a whim, I checked the contents of my "Important" folder.
I found no messages inside.
This is not the first time that I have caught mail messages disappearing from my Yahoo! account. Furthermore, this is the second time that the same message has disappeared.
Last time it happened, I asked my roommate to re-forward the message from his GMail account. On a whim, I created a separate folder, "Important," intended to contain that particular message.
And indeed, the message has disappeared -- again. This cannot be coincidence, I think to myself. Time for me to download all my messages through the POP service and figure out where to go from here.
What scares me, in particular, is that the message contains information that I would never send through plaintext email. In other words, the email message could have value to an unscrupulous third party.
I pay Yahoo $20 per year for their service. As it is a paid service, I have higher expectations for security and privacy; however, I have lost all confidence that my information is private, secure, and won't be lost. I think it's time for me to be a lot more careful about my own personal data.
Database errors? Hackers? Sleepwalking baitisj browsing email and clicking the 'delete' button? Or simply paranoia?
Goodbye, Yahoo. You were convenient; I should have left you as soon as you turned over someone's personal information to the Chinese government.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Thursday, October 2, 2008
I booted Bart today...
Quick specs:
850 MHz Celeron Coppermine
Intel motherboard w/100MHz FSB
BIOS circa 2001
Purchase price: $1 in 2005
Booted him up, and LILO booted "Linux-Homer...."
It came up. Checked the version of ESP (Evolution software platform). Last modification date: December 13, 2001
Wow.
I looked a little bit at some of the code that I wrote over seven years ago.
This robot STILL has a frickin' laser beam, after all of these years. I really need to connect it up.
For a quick speed comparison, Tom's Hardware shows the following "render times in seconds" for a Dragon_Character_rig (Rendering 1024x768 Single).
Prescott,3800/200,925X,DDR2-533
Coppermine,800/133,815EP,SDR100
I think I'm going to hard wire the laser beam so that it turns on when the computer's powered up.
850 MHz Celeron Coppermine
Intel motherboard w/100MHz FSB
BIOS circa 2001
Purchase price: $1 in 2005
Booted him up, and LILO booted "Linux-Homer...."
It came up. Checked the version of ESP (Evolution software platform). Last modification date: December 13, 2001
Wow.
I looked a little bit at some of the code that I wrote over seven years ago.
...
/// from ir_laser.cpp
ISwitchDevice *frickin_laser_beam; // ...frickin' laser beams? Is that too much to ask?
unsigned count;
test.check(ir_laser.obtain_interface (0,
"Evolution.ISwitchDevice",
(IResource**)&frickin_laser_beam, count) == RESULT_SUCCESS);
This robot STILL has a frickin' laser beam, after all of these years. I really need to connect it up.
For a quick speed comparison, Tom's Hardware shows the following "render times in seconds" for a Dragon_Character_rig (Rendering 1024x768 Single).
Prescott,3800/200,925X,DDR2-533
85
Thunderbird,1000/100,KT133A,SDR133 279
Coppermine,800/133,815EP,SDR100
434
I think I'm going to hard wire the laser beam so that it turns on when the computer's powered up.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Quick Notes on Enabling Samba in OpenSolaris
I've been experimenting with OpenSolaris again. I figured out how to enable my broken samba package: I discovered that, after installing the package with
pfexec pkg install SUNWsmbs SUNWsmba
I had to execute:
svccfg import /var/svc/manifest/network/samba.xml
I then copied /etc/sfw/smb.conf-example and modified appropriate values, and created a configuration file that was saved to:
/etc/sfw/smb.conf
Finally, I could enable the SAMBA server:
svcadm enable samba
pfexec pkg install SUNWsmbs SUNWsmba
I had to execute:
svccfg import /var/svc/manifest/network/samba.xml
I then copied /etc/sfw/smb.conf-example and modified appropriate values, and created a configuration file that was saved to:
/etc/sfw/smb.conf
Finally, I could enable the SAMBA server:
svcadm enable samba
Sunday, July 6, 2008
A blast from the past
As is typical as of late, I was feeling rather isolated and lonely in Los Angeles. My business partners and roommate had all left on vacation, leaving me with little else but to operate out of an empty office. Being the sentimental creature that I am, I'm rather used to spending the fourth of July with my family in the beautiful state of Montana; my separation from them was having a deleterious effect. Having noticed that I've been in a bit of a rut recently (understatement), my parents invited me home for the weekend -- an invitation that I gladly accepted.
Since I've been at home, I've had the opportunity to go through some not-quite-buried treasures. When I left home for my first place of work, I relieved myself of all those useless trinkets, toys, photographs, awards, and other memorabilia that one acquires as a child. The remaining portion of the physical artifacts of my life I sorted and placed inside of labeled banker boxes.
In high school, I had been very active in extracurricular science fairs and research projects; this activity afforded me a great deal of travel and exposure to conferences. My successes were, to some degree, achieved through my own curiosity, attention to detail, and talent as a clear communicator; however, I believe that I thrived primarily due to the combined efforts and guidance of my teachers, to whom I am forever grateful. Sentinel High School, like a blacksmiths' workshop, took the raw metals of my personality, and fired and then forged them, forming a young Junior who traveled to Arizona and participated in the International Science and Engineering Fair in 1996.
Having achieved more than I could have ever expected, I became somewhat complacent, but was still interested in finding another vein of research that caught my interest. One of my science teachers suggested that I attend the Canyon Ferry Limnological Institute (now Montana Science Institute) near Helena, MT. At that time, it was run by husband-and-wife team Gil and Marilyn Alexander. Being young, egocentric, socially awkward, filled with hormones, and somewhat emotionally unbalanced due to my family situation, I left the camp early and went home, but not before making several faux pas that I still feel ashamed of. The teenage mind is painted in bright, primary colors -- and the reds are impressively vibrant.
Before I had left, however, I had performed some research into hydrogen peroxide rocket fuel. More captivating, however, were the patents of a Mr Stanley Meyer regarding a "hydrogen fracturing" process. I had reviewed several patents that had been written in a disorganized, unclear, and esoteric manner, so as to obviously make comprehension of the disclosed invention difficult -- if not impossible. I had sent e-mail messages to a Mr Daniel Hamilton, presumably living in Texas, who had insinuated that the Meyer cell could produce more energy than it consumed -- thereby breaking the laws of thermodynamics. At that point, I became highly skeptical and filed Meyer's cryptic patents away into a large, black, metal binder where they sat, provoking occasional curiosity and maybe a bi-yearly web search on "hydrogen fracturing."
Today, I retrieved this binder from it's banker box, and curiosity struck. I performed a web search on Stanley Meyer, and discovered that he had suffered the sad fate of the huckster that he was. In late 1996, Meyer had been sued by several investors for fraud and was found guilty thereof. An expert witness, Michael Laughton, Professor of Electrical Engineering at Queen Mary, University of London (wikipedia), had determined that Meyer's cell operated no more efficiently than a standard electrolytic cell. Meyer later died in 1998 of a brain aneurysm.
Somehow, this seems a fitting end for a man who would have tricked a young high school student with free energy propaganda, but didn't.
The black binder has been cleared of its contents and is now patiently awaiting something far more useful.
Since I've been at home, I've had the opportunity to go through some not-quite-buried treasures. When I left home for my first place of work, I relieved myself of all those useless trinkets, toys, photographs, awards, and other memorabilia that one acquires as a child. The remaining portion of the physical artifacts of my life I sorted and placed inside of labeled banker boxes.
In high school, I had been very active in extracurricular science fairs and research projects; this activity afforded me a great deal of travel and exposure to conferences. My successes were, to some degree, achieved through my own curiosity, attention to detail, and talent as a clear communicator; however, I believe that I thrived primarily due to the combined efforts and guidance of my teachers, to whom I am forever grateful. Sentinel High School, like a blacksmiths' workshop, took the raw metals of my personality, and fired and then forged them, forming a young Junior who traveled to Arizona and participated in the International Science and Engineering Fair in 1996.
Having achieved more than I could have ever expected, I became somewhat complacent, but was still interested in finding another vein of research that caught my interest. One of my science teachers suggested that I attend the Canyon Ferry Limnological Institute (now Montana Science Institute) near Helena, MT. At that time, it was run by husband-and-wife team Gil and Marilyn Alexander. Being young, egocentric, socially awkward, filled with hormones, and somewhat emotionally unbalanced due to my family situation, I left the camp early and went home, but not before making several faux pas that I still feel ashamed of. The teenage mind is painted in bright, primary colors -- and the reds are impressively vibrant.
Before I had left, however, I had performed some research into hydrogen peroxide rocket fuel. More captivating, however, were the patents of a Mr Stanley Meyer regarding a "hydrogen fracturing" process. I had reviewed several patents that had been written in a disorganized, unclear, and esoteric manner, so as to obviously make comprehension of the disclosed invention difficult -- if not impossible. I had sent e-mail messages to a Mr Daniel Hamilton, presumably living in Texas, who had insinuated that the Meyer cell could produce more energy than it consumed -- thereby breaking the laws of thermodynamics. At that point, I became highly skeptical and filed Meyer's cryptic patents away into a large, black, metal binder where they sat, provoking occasional curiosity and maybe a bi-yearly web search on "hydrogen fracturing."
Today, I retrieved this binder from it's banker box, and curiosity struck. I performed a web search on Stanley Meyer, and discovered that he had suffered the sad fate of the huckster that he was. In late 1996, Meyer had been sued by several investors for fraud and was found guilty thereof. An expert witness, Michael Laughton, Professor of Electrical Engineering at Queen Mary, University of London (wikipedia), had determined that Meyer's cell operated no more efficiently than a standard electrolytic cell. Meyer later died in 1998 of a brain aneurysm.
Somehow, this seems a fitting end for a man who would have tricked a young high school student with free energy propaganda, but didn't.
The black binder has been cleared of its contents and is now patiently awaiting something far more useful.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Last night, I watched too much Monty Python.
I'll have you know that I'm the Prince of European Identity Crisis. Oh yes. To use a horrible writing cliche, 'it all began' back when I was born. But after that, I traveled to Germany and Sweden. And, suddenly and unexpectedly, on the flight back, the "Luftansa" airline attendant made a point of asking everyone on the plane what they would like to drink; I think she was really trying to offer us potable refreshments.
Several rows ahead of me (I was in tourist class in the Airbus -- I'm not that "wealthy," if you get my drift), she began asking people what they would like. In English. She slowly bumbled towards my row, riding the airline turbulence like a seasoned cowboy rides a Tennessee Walker, asking each successive row's occupants their beverage preference.
Eventually, she made it to my row. She asked me what I would like to drink. IN GERMAN. So, with my best and wittiest parlance, I replied, "Bitte ein schtillis vasserlaksjdlaksdjfoinadf," just like a good German. I also added a couple of 'yah-yahs' par excellence. Yep. Out of all the occupants in the airline ahead of me, she thought I was the most Krauty. Even the two occupants to my left and right were asked their preference in English -- they simply weren't Euro enough for her! Oh, no, they were most certainly not.
Suitably impressed and clearly assured that I spoke her native tongue, she returned with my drink. As she carried on down the aisle, nothing else was ever said between the two of us. To this day, I still assume that she's still somewhere far above us all, fording the swiftly flowing jet stream, at altitudes often exceeding 9,000 meters.
Not surprisingly, I was totally addicted to house music during the period of 1997-2002, including BlΓΌmchen, remixes of Nena, and Toy-Box. Please don't think less of me because of this, but I'd like people to think of it as extracurricular intracultural studies. Sometimes, I still watch the "Heut Ist Mein Tag" music video when I want to be generally creeped out and made to feel like I have some sort of overtly Teutonic raver-girlfriend.
Several rows ahead of me (I was in tourist class in the Airbus -- I'm not that "wealthy," if you get my drift), she began asking people what they would like. In English. She slowly bumbled towards my row, riding the airline turbulence like a seasoned cowboy rides a Tennessee Walker, asking each successive row's occupants their beverage preference.
Eventually, she made it to my row. She asked me what I would like to drink. IN GERMAN. So, with my best and wittiest parlance, I replied, "Bitte ein schtillis vasserlaksjdlaksdjfoinadf," just like a good German. I also added a couple of 'yah-yahs' par excellence. Yep. Out of all the occupants in the airline ahead of me, she thought I was the most Krauty. Even the two occupants to my left and right were asked their preference in English -- they simply weren't Euro enough for her! Oh, no, they were most certainly not.
Suitably impressed and clearly assured that I spoke her native tongue, she returned with my drink. As she carried on down the aisle, nothing else was ever said between the two of us. To this day, I still assume that she's still somewhere far above us all, fording the swiftly flowing jet stream, at altitudes often exceeding 9,000 meters.
Not surprisingly, I was totally addicted to house music during the period of 1997-2002, including BlΓΌmchen, remixes of Nena, and Toy-Box. Please don't think less of me because of this, but I'd like people to think of it as extracurricular intracultural studies. Sometimes, I still watch the "Heut Ist Mein Tag" music video when I want to be generally creeped out and made to feel like I have some sort of overtly Teutonic raver-girlfriend.
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