• Please, by all means, be idle no more.

    For anyone not living in Canada, or anyone living in Canada who’s decided now would be a fine time to secure themselves under a rock, it might have gone missed that, for lack of a better way to put it, the natives are getting restless. They’ve started a series of protests, blockades and the like, that they’re calling “Idle No More”, which supposedly is meant to express several things all in one movement. If you ask Theresa Spence, a native chief who’s been on a hunger strike of sorts since before the official birth of this “movement”, it’s to protest the condition of native reservations, one of which has–well–its own problems independant of whatever the government may or may not have decided to do, or not (note: Spence is the chief of the reservation referenced in the linked article). Apparently, same goes if you ask any of the chiefs that support her–yes, still, even though she’s already moved her own goal posts several times in the span of a couple weeks. When they’re not also still smarting over the violation of a treaty their great great grandparents signed with mine (*), they’re insisting on a greater share of any and all resource-based industry that passes anywhere near, on or around what they believe is their lands–industry they aren’t even willing to approve anyway (see: northern gateway, keystone, etc). But, see, here’s the thing that passes me by. They want to be self-sufficient, which is completely and entirely reasonable–and they should be. But they want to do it by relying on their traditional way of life–hunting, fishing, escentially living off the land, as I’ve seen a few folks put it. That’s great too. I’d never presume to deny someone the right to live their life as they please. But I’ve never seen it actually explained how, in 2013, the natives who take up issues like this one plan to go about doing that.

    In fact, I’ve seen it spelled out rather nicely exactly how, assuming the government agreed completely with those demands and gave them complete self-governance, complete with allowing them to go back to their traditional ways of life, it would very quickly fall apart. In short, from the day the treaties were signed, the natives’ hunting days were numberd.

    It’s important to emphasize that these Treaty commissioners were not anthropologists or do-gooders. Notwithstanding their respect for the Cree, they came with a very specific mission: to set the stage for white commercial development in these territories.

    For instance, the commissioners reported a meeting in Fort Hope, on the shore of Lake Eabamet, with a certain well-regarded chief named Moonias. At one point, a local Indian named Yesno (“who received his name from his imperfect knowledge of the English language, which consisted altogether in the use of the words ‘yes’ and ‘no’”) told the commissioners that the terms of the Treaty should ensure that natives in the area receive “cattle and implements, seed-grain and tools.”

    This horrified the commissioners, who evidently wished to guard against unfulfilled expectations: “As the undersigned wished to guard carefully against any misconception or against making any promises which were not written in the treaty itself, it was explained that none of these issues were to be made, as the band could not hope to depend upon agriculture as a means of subsistence; that hunting and fishing, in which occupations they were not to be interfered with, should for very many years prove lucrative sources of revenue. The Indians were informed that by signing the treaty they pledged themselves not to interfere with white men who might come into the country surveying, prospecting, hunting, or in other occupations; that they must respect the laws of the land in every particular, and that their reserves were set apart for them in order that they might have a tract in which they could not be molested, and where no white man would have any claims without the consent of their tribe and of the government. After this very full discussion, the treaty was signed, and payment was commenced.”

    What I am quoting here is the commissioners’ Nov. 6, 1905 report, not the actual text of the James Bay Treaty (which is brief). But it expresses the real nub of the intended treaty relationship: The natives would continue hunting and fishing for sustenance and trade, and receive annual payments from the government (four dollars, to be exact), while white men would have the right to put down their train tracks, mines, forestry operations and settlements. Some reserve lands were stipulated in a schedule to the treaty (“not to exceed in all one square mile for each family of five”), but the exact location of such lands was not then considered as important as it is now. That’s because the local Cree were semi-nomadic, and came and went with the hunt. (At Lake Abitibi, for instance, the commissioners reported: “We did not expect to find many Indians in attendance, as they usually leave for their hunting grounds about the first week in July.”)

    As the article goes on to say, it’s that treaty, and the creation therein of this type of reserve, that’s still today being held over our heads–over a century later. The problem? We tried to bring the natives into what was then modern society. We just, well, only did it about halfway. oh, right–and by “we”, I mean the about, we’ll say, 1930 or so “we”.

    Cree men such as Moonias and Yesno, were they still around, would be absolutely appalled by this state of affairs. They apparently believed they were negotiating Treaty terms that would permit them to continue to provide for themselves as rugged hunter-gatherers (and possibly farmers). The notion that the white man eventually would put them up in permanently subsidized year-round housing that allowed them to abandon hunting and fishing — the very heart of their culture — would have seemed alien and unexpected.

    That move from semi-nomadic to settled life, which was seen in part as a humane gesture aimed at bringing natives into modern civilization, is the real “cultural genocide” we keep hearing about. It’s not a Stephen Harper plot. It’s something that happened mostly before Harper was born.

    So wheres the halfway point? well, that would be right around this part of those self-same treaties.

    Yet the altogether worst aspect of the James Bay Treaty is that, like other treaties, it ensured that reserve land “shall be held and administered by His Majesty, for the benefit of the Indians,” and that “in no wise [sic] shall the said Indians, or any of them, be entitled to sell or otherwise alienate any of the lands allotted to them as reserves.” This was basically Soviet-style communism, avant la lettre. To this day, this system of communal land ownership ensures that reserve-resident natives are the only people in Canada who are systematically denied the right to buy, sell, lease and mortgage their land.

    This is the single most awful thing we ever did to the Indians: bring them into a settled, capitalist society, and then deny them the basic tools to generate capital. Yet, perversely, it is the one aspect of native policy that is consistently championed by left-wing native-rights advocates, who see in it a sentimental vindication of Marxism despite its European failures.

    And this, combined with some one-time assistance to actually see to it the people on those reserves aren’t swept out to sea by the changes, is exactly what the people involved–be they native or not–should be pushing to be changed. At the moment, natives living on reserves have no actual attachment to the property they occupy. Nor are they actually allowed, legally, to have any attachment or place any value on those properties. Which is why, in communities like Attawapiskat, they made headlines when it became clear just how bad the housing situation was actually getting. And when they made headlines, they still had to wait for the government to do something about it–as opposed to anyone else, who can pretty much make any changes they please to their living arangements–including deciding to forget about paying rent and go buy a house across town. And it’s these remote, mostly fly-in communities, that protesters are saying should be allowed to do their own thing, their own way, in compliance with those self-same treaties. It’s those self-same communities that folks like Theresa Spence are saying the government should hand more money to, for presumedly very similar results. But complying with treaties from over a hundred years ago and giving natives their self-sufficience are mutually exclusive.

    Ms. Spence and her Idle No More supporters are absolutely correct to say that the James Bay Treaty made provisions for Indians to get land, cash payments, and even some measure of autonomy. But ramping up those perqs won’t do anything to change the fact that the whole basis of the treaty was destroyed as soon as traditional native hunting life came to an end.

    This is the fundamental reason that the Idle No More message on treaties is irrelevant: The great challenge of native policy in the 21st century will be to integrate natives into the larger economy that is based in Canadian population centers.

    Remote fly-in communities such as Attawapiskat, on the other hand, are doomed: You can’t turn he clock back to 1905, or even to 1930.

    And as much as that means folks like Theresa Spence would have to be out of a job, that has to be the simple reality. That should have been the reality years ago, but a combination of the government mucking it up and the natives fighting it lead to, well, the exact opposite. If being idle no more means fixing this system, and giving native people the ability to make themselves sufficient and get them off the government take, then by all means, please do be idle no more. But if, in seaking these changes, the natives can’t accept the fact that some traditions–some aspects of their culture–they want so badly to hold onto simply cannot survive a transition like that? To continue to hold to that expectation, and to insist the rest of Canada work around that expectation, will only continue to end up in situations exactly like this one. And really, honestly? I think we’re all getting a little tiny bit tired of reading headlines that start off with “Native Group Protests”. Just tossing that out there.

    *: I can’t be a hundred percent sure how accurate that statement actually is, as I have great great grandparents on both sides of the issue. Pretty sure that puts me in a bit of a conflict of interest when writing a post like this. But, then, I never did give much thought to that kind of deal.

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  • Popular posts (December, 2012).

    Oh hey look, it’s only halfway through January and I remembered I actually do these! Maybe I’ll get the one for the year up sometime before june, yeah? Could happen.

    December was insanely crazy busy for the folks what bring you the occasional broken on this side of the site. From a readership perspective, it was fairly busy for you as well. For the month of December, 668 of you found something to waste a minute and a half on. That’s a far cry from where we were at the beginning of 2011. Not bad considering I fell off the blogging wagon more than usual in 2012. So, without further ramblings from yours truely, here’s a snapshot of what you found interesting enough to stare at, as always, courtesy Google Analytics.

    • I’m a larger than life fan of WordPress. The self-hosted one, to be precise–wordpress.com can go that-a-way, thanks kindly. I wasn’t very enthusiastic when they made some changes to the administrative interface that caused one or two minor accessibility headaches. They could be and often times were worked around, but that didn’t stop me from being quite pleased they fixed some of them in the latest version. I went into detail on what they fixed, and how to work around things in the event the fix doesn’t really apply to you.
    • I tend to push the technical limits of just about anything I can get my hands on. Including the modem provided me by everyone’s favourite ISP (I’ve blogged about them quite”> frequently–yes, they have two categories. Blame the fact they’re desperately trying to get away from the Sympatico brand where possible.) This time, though, Bell/Sympatico’s modem pushed back. Hard, and broke a couple networking standards in the process. I still can’t help but wonder. Did Bell start copying things from Microsoft’s playbook? Just asking.
    • I pay attention to hosting/web resources news. One kind of has to, when one has a couple domain names of his own and hosts a couple more for friends. So when a company like Network Solutions tries to play fast and loose with its customers, I tend to take notice. Just so we’re clear, I get they used to be number 1 in the business. Actually, there used to be a time you couldn’t do much on the hosting side without going through them. Them, and Internic. Pulling little tricks like that right there, though? Mighty fine way to make sure they don’t get back there.
    • We go back to 2010 for this entry. I considered switching to Wind Mobile for cell phone service near the end of 2010. Mostly because, well, I needed a way to hit up the US from the cell should the need arise. Needless to say, the reason for it no longer exists, which is all well and good since their fair usage policy pretty much turned me off of the company. I posted an open letter on the topic. I’ve also given up on getting any actual response from the company. The conversation they’re so enthusiastic about is apparently one-way.
    • And last but not least, I get this one cropping up for a few months right around both Canadian and US Thanksgiving. My entry on the second Thanksgiving I spent in Rochester, back when I had a reason to spend such things in Rochester. Judging by the search terms that bring folks to that entry. my guess is they’re not looking for my recap of Thanksgiving in the US. Sorry to disappoint. Perhaps that’ll teach you not to go looking for your homework on Google, ya lazy sod.

    And that’s December in a nutshell. From a what I’ve been up to, and a what you’ve been reading, viewpoint. Now, after I’ve had sleep and then more caffeine, look for a post that tackles the most popular entries of 2012, according to you. Also much more mockery. Oh, and something or other about we actually have a hockey season. Who knew? Until then, unless something miraculous happens before then, happy reading. Oh–and, uh, whatever you do, try and resist giving your kids the internet for Christmas. That crap’s really hard to mock unless you go on a lengthy, poorly written rant where I can see it.

  • The ISP who stole Christmas?

    This would have probably been better timed last week, but I was in the middle of 80 million things last week. So, have it this morning instead.

    I haven’t been a TekSavvy customer for several years. But, because I can, I still keep up with the community of folks who still use them–and those who’d love to. It was while trolling that community that I tripped and fell over this. In case you don’t feel like going clicky, have a paste.

    ruined xmas.. ty tek sav soo,.. as a single parent to three kids, all they wanted and i could afford for xmas was internet service. I checked out tek sav. as seems like a good thing ? i checked the website to confirm service was available in my large centre (whitby ontario). i called the number and again they confirmed the install and availablilty. they sent me an invoice, and welcomed me to the tek sav. family in emails. i paid the invoice and modem costs, and was promised install for dec 28 2012. xmas morning all that was under the tree was a posterboard with Internet written on it by the kids. tek savey was delivering the connection dec 28, so they told me repeatedly. on dec 26 i get a phone call, saying, opps.. service you ordered, paid for, and we confirmed several times is not available in your area. then i recieved an email confirming me cancelling the service that i never did get. i had to break the news to three teens that this company, that claims to be different, better, dependable, and no nonsense, let us down with false promises. so after let down i say, do i get my money back ? they say maybe, after i send back the modem i did not recieve yet. dec 29 i go to post office and refuse delivery of modem as per their instructions. so now i sit and wait for some promised refund so i can actualy try to get serive elsewhere, and deliver the xmas gift that never was yet. thank you tek sevvey for wrecking a large part of our xmas. thank you for the let down due to your incompentance. i understand if service is not available in our area of 180,00 people, what i dont understand is why your website said sure, you took my money, made promises, made commitments, and then said oppss.. not our fault. i sent emails and i just get,.. opps not our fault. well the fake comitment that service was available in my area was not the fault of the grinch, but rather a compant that seems not to know their ass froma hole in the ground. i am not bitter, i am hurt that a company that promotes itself as caring, and you will be looked after seems to not give a rats ass

    So, in summary: You broke Christmas! You bastards! No biscuit! Okay, that was much easier than I thought. Oh and, just so we’re clear, activation and the like with TekSavvy can easily come to a couple hundred bucks on an easy day. That’s a couple Christmas gifts in my family. Ah, but then again, we already have internet.

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  • On 2012: the year that made my head spin.

    I can usually think of much more creative ways of describing a year when it’s all said and done. But all I can find to describe 2012 is oh my freaking god. It was 365 opposite days all rolled into one huge box of where the hell were you all my life. So because I love me some lists, and I’m lazy, and there’s a monopoly ass kicking that needs happening before my victim goes to bed for the night, have a year in review, in a list.

    • I ended 2011 single and not very surprised. I ended 2012 not only dating someone, but living with her, and more than a little surprised. This was certainly not what I planned when I posted a similar entry last year.
    • In the beginning of 2011, I had to take in a roommate. I lived in the middle of freaking nowhere and was staring down the barel of moving back in with my parents. Fast forward to 2012, and I’m back in Ottawa, in a much bigger place, and the only time I think of going back to Petawawa is after the 5th phone call from the parents wondering when I’m going back to Petawawa.
    • I learned a hell of a lot about my own limits coming out of 2011. I learned a hell of a lot about other people, including some people I thought I knew, coming out of 2012. I like to think I’m a fair bit smarter because of it, but I’ve been wrong before.
    • I actually followed through with what I’d been threatening to do a while and hooked up with one or two folks I only knew online in 2012. The sad part? They were local during my first tour through Ottawa–just neither they nor I had the time to do anything about it.
    • I started and later stopped trying to get myself into Algonquin college. I haven’t given up on going back to school–just on going back to *that* school.
    • From a website perspective, I moved things to their own, fully dedicated server in 2012. It was on a server I shared with someone else, but seeing as they decided causing me issues was the thing to do, that was changed in a right royal heartbeat. But hey–it’s been over a month since I killed the last of the bugs and so far, I haven’t seen an implosion.
    • In 2011, I had a vision of making a little tiny bit of money doing the hosting thing. That was pretty much all it was, though, a vision–again, a thing I got into with the person I used to share the server with. Sure, we had the domain name, and a couple people we hosted, but it was hardly what I’d call a business–and it didn’t do a whole lot of making money. Ending 2012, I’m a little bit closer to that. I don’t expect super rich or anything, but hey–a discount here and there on the hosting bill, or maybe an extra caffeine run just in case things decide to implode in future, never hurt anyone.
    • I actually had a job interview or two in 2012. I didn’t have that much luck in 2011, and even less of a shot at it in 2012–which is what makes the 1 or 2 I did land worth noting. This was probably my least active year on the job search front.
    • And of course, no end of 2012 review would be worth making without mentioning July 1, 2012. On that day, and for every day after, the year of opposite days took on a whole new meaning. Maybe eventually I’ll get detailed as to why I say that. But even though the reason for my saying that is over a year old, I still haven’t figured out in my head how to actually explain it. But on that day, I knew 2012 would be different. I just had no idea it would be *this* different.

    And that’s what 2012 looks like in the rear view mirror, if you’re me. I do have one or two newyears resolutions, and sure, they’ll be a couple days late, but they’ll make it up here. In the meantime, I have an ass to kick. C’mere, monopoly.

  • Things to note when taxiing a blind dude, in list format.

    I do a fair bit of cabbing from here to there, as does any person who doesn’t quite know how to shuffle the bus system from A to Z. Since I’m hardly the first to do it, and hardly the first blind fool at that, I thought it might be useful to toss together a little reference something that maybe some enterprising cab dude can read while he should be paying attention to the road. I’m even croudsourcing this one, so if someone somewhere thinks a thinggy or three can be added, it will probably be added. And because I know some fool somewhere will read this while driving, and because I’m all for minimising distractions while driving, have it in list format. Also because lists are lazy, and lazy is win, therefore lists are win. So. Without further BS, the taxi guy’s reference guide–what not to do, blind guy edition.

    • Let’s clear one thing up right off the bat. Blind. Kay? Means unable to see. Cannot eyeball. You wave randomly in my general direction, a lot of people are gonna wonder what the hell kinda meth you’re on. And I’m going to ignore your face. Mostly because I can’t see your face–again, blind. Follow so far?
    • Related to number 1, but also critical: Honking. Yeah, just don’t. Especially if you’re in a parking lot with at least half a dozen other vehicles. That happens fairly often in this building–and let’s be honest. Not every car that pulls in here’s a cab. Not every car that pulls in here and honks is a cab. I’m not going to assume you’re a cab if all you’re doing is honking. Especially if I’ve told you before to knock that noise right the hell off.
    • this one’s simple. If you make with the grabby, I get to make with the stabby. I’m capable of navigating from door to vehicle, provided I 1: am familiar with the area from which you’re picking me up and 2: it’s relatively straightforward-ish to locate your vehicle–for instance, if we’re outside this building and your vehicle’s the only one in front of the door running. If I’ve been to an area before, same goes from vehicle to door–provided you haven’t found somewhere completely ass backwards to park us. That I’ve started to move does not mean grab me by the shoulder, the arm, the hand, the wrist, the cane, or any other extremety or implement secured to or belonging to my person. Unless, of course, you don’t mind a cane in the eye. I’m quite obliging when asked.
    • This one might be vaguely obvious, but it still gets missed a lot. Pay the fuck attention, dude. Seriously. You’re asking a blind guy how to get from A, to B, to C. Last I checked, that was kind of what I was paying you for. Yes, okay, I do know my way around at least most of this end of the city. But I don’t know precisely where we are when you ask me, “So it’s just up here and to the right, yeah?”. Know your shit, or use your GPS if you absolutely must–even if those things have a nasty little habbit of occasionally being both dead wrong and all in favour of me paying more. Or be prepared to answer at least 3 questions having to do with exactly where the fuck “just up here and to the right” is. Failure to do either of those gets you this point in lecture format from the back seat. I’ve done it.
    • The answer to the question, “where’s the door?” is not, “Just go straight.”. That particularly is the exact *wrong* answer when one is still sitting in the car, having not yet gotten out because he’s waiting on your slow ass debit machine to get around to approving his transaction. Providing that answer will result in at a minimum an angry stare, and at a maximum a very detailed explanation as to why exactly that is perhaps the most wrong answer you can provide, next to no answer at all. Hint: you just read it.
    • This should be common sense in some places, and simply not breaking the law in others, but it takes on a bit more importance when driving a blind guy. Get the everloving hell off the phone, for the love of pepperoni. Not only does yacking on the phone prove you’re not really paying attention to where the hell you’re going, or what the hell the passenger(s) is/are saying to you, but especially in the context of blind passenger, you will more than likely miss something vaguely important–like, for instance, the afore mentioned request for the location of the door. If you’d put down the phone for at least the duration of the ride, you’d have an increased chance of actually hearing your passenger–be they blind or otherwise–tell you that they’ll be paying via your slow ass debit machine. At which point, that transaction can be slightly less slow as crap, because you’ll–preferably–have taken a couple minutes while finding somewhere to park to get the machine ready to actually process the transaction.
      • Exceptions can be made for things like, for instance, asking for directions. But pull the hell over if you’re gonna. That’s not so much because blind dude. That’s because, well, legal. At least if you’re an Ontario cab driver. I have my own issues with distracted driving laws, but they’re still there. And if you’re gonna get yourself slapped for not following them, I’d prefer to not be in the cab when it happens.
    • Blind guy is not new guy, okay? Odds are, even though I’m cabbing it there, I have a fairly decent idea where there is. I just haven’t yet figured out exactly how to translate directions into useable by blind person on foot information. So when trying to get from A to B, especially if you’ve already started the everloving metre (that’s another rant for another day), let’s not waste us some time by sitting in the driveway arguing about how to get from here to there. Especially if you’re going to throw it in your GPS and have it tell you exactly the same route I just freaking told you. That’s an incredibly quick shortcut to a free trip if I’m feeling particularly challenging that day. And since neither of us knows when that’s going to be, I’d suggest maybe not poking that switch.
    • speaking of slow ass debit machines, they may be incredibly slow at times, but for the love of everything sane, get you one. Believe me, they’re not just for blind folk anymore. This couldn’t have been made more clear when I lived in small town Ontario. The guys over at the Vomit Comet ran into it too, and they’re in bloody Kitchener for crying out loud. If you’re new, or hell, ya just don’t show up in town all that often, you’re not going to know where $place is, nevermind how far away it is from where you’ve been scooped. Leaving aside the fact that it’s bloody 2013 and no one caries cash in bloody 2013, guessing at how far you need to go at the going rate for that city just to reach a rough estimate of how much pocket change you should be carrying with you can be and has been an exercise in migraine. Guys. Even the pizza delivery guy has those wireless debit thinggies, kay? They can’t be too expensive. And with some of the rates municipalities let yall charge us, they can’t be entirely all that unafordable. Get you one. Or two–because hey, sharing is caring. Forget making things convenient for us. You wanna get paid, yes? This guarantees you do. Well, or at least guarantees that if you’re not up and being a tool about the rest of the trip, we’ll be that much more likely to get you paid. make sense?
    • further to points re: pay the fuck attention: your GPS is yelling at you. Meanwhile, you’re panicking because you haven’t the slightest idea where you’re going. Pro tip: even if you haven’t the slightest, your GPS has at least that much. Stop, look, listen. Or at the very least, shut up so I can–and maybe then *I* can figure out where the hell you’re going.
    • I hear about this way too often to be healthy. You’re called to pick up person and guidedog. That does not mean offer to pick up person, then bitch about picking up guidedog. This is one of those situations wherein the law trumps everything except fatal alergies–including your freedom of religion. Don’t approve? Behind the wheel of a cab is not for you. Don’t approve and voice said disapproval loudly? In front of a cab works just fine.
    • that thing I’m holding? Yeah, that thing. It’s a cane. It’s not a magical locator beam. It won’t randomly lift off and shoom its way to your vehicle the second you hit the breaks with me holding the other end. fortunately, if you’re me, as these things aren’t very good independent navigators. Since this thing isn’t programmed to find you, you’re just gonna have to hop your happy ass outa the vehicle and come find me. I’m sorry. But hey, if you do it right, you’ll get paid. Call it corporate motivation. Hey–it worked when I had a thing with a paycheck.
    • Here’s a thing for the thought mines. There are two people standing on the front steps of a house, in front of which you’ve just parked your happy ass. Both are holding those things that are not locator beams. Both are clearly visible, as evidenced by the fact you’re parked pretty much in throwing range of the front door. It’s a very short walk to the front door. It’s also in earshot. Staying in your vehicle and calling the house to let us know you’re here, therefore, is a teeny tiny bit counterproductive. It’s also highly likely to get you mocked in a “how not to taxi a blind guy” entry. Don’t. Just don’t. Because no one will answer, and you’ll be waiting for us, and we’ll be waiting for you, and only one of us will come out looking like an idiot. Also it’s just plain uncool.

    There will probably be more added as they’re thought of, or sent to me. In fact I’m pretty sure there will be. But in the meantime, if you know a cab driver who’d find this somewhat useful, by all means slap the link in several dozen places with a strong suggestion to read it. In fact I’m thinking of printing this off for a couple drivers we get around here regularly. In the meantime, happy cabbing. And remember, just because I can’t see doesn’t mean I can’t slap you for being an idiot. Let’s not make me prove it.

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  • Tech support license: revoked, sucker.

    When I lived at the other apartment in Ottawa, every so often we’d get calls from nonsensical numbers that couldn’t be called back, blocked or even properly traced. They’d call for one of two reasons. Either to try and sell us tech support (me and the former roommate are both more than capable of our own tech support), or to offer us air duct cleaning service (we lived in an apartment and didn’t actually, uh, *have* air ducts). Oddly enough, our number was on the DNCL (Do Not Call List). Come to find out, we weren’t the only ones with the problem–and two of the companies responsible have been slapped. The smackdown went global, with the US and others joining in the festivities earlier this year. Of course, by now that phone number isn’t even in service and the new one hasn’t been slapped in any lists of that variety, as in ever, but it’d be interesting to see if this actually had any kind of affect. I mean beyond being some wicked little poetic justice if one of those guys was the one what rang me. In the meantime, I think we’ll be keeping our current phone numbers the hell off the DNCL, thankya please. I’m not interested in tech support for my very much not infected machines.

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  • Some folks just don’t know how to have fun. … And keep it off Facebook.

    Tega Cay, South Carolina, must be one hell of a boring place to be. Absolutely nowhere halfway decent to throw a barely coherent party. That’s okay, though. Gives the locals an excuse to test their resourcefulness. So one shouldn’t be surprised, then, when a couple kids decide to borrow someone else’s house for their party. And it was going so well, too. The owners didn’t even realize their place had been borrowed. Small problem, though. These kids were apparently never taught. What happens in a borrowed party pad stays in the borrowed party pad. So naturally, the highlights made it to Facebook. And helped to rather, well, bust the borrowers. Pro tip, guys. Maybe next time stick to good old fashion photo albums? Ah well. At least they had the good sense to clean up after themselves.

  • I really hope you got your answer, pal.

    I also really hope the government paid a crapload before this guy’s search prediction came true.

    Oct 2 11:43pm: how to fast track ontario disability cause i’m dying

    As for fasttracking anything, with this government? Yeah, uh, we’re still waiting on them to slowtrack some very basic fixes to the ODSP arangements in this apartment. Paging the Kingston lackies…

  • Proof positive: the thought of a man named Bush with the nuke launch codes? Least of your worries.

    For pretty much the entire duration of Bush Junior’s presidency, the running joke had to do with who in their right mind would let him anywhere near the launch codes for the US’s nuclear missiles. That was a favourite dig from pretty much anyone who didn’t much care for bush just based on the fact he was a republican, even before he started pulling completely brainless stunts that actually gave people reason to have a major problem and a half with him. As it turns out, that’s kind of the least of the US’s security worries. What people should have been getting twitchy about after all were the guys what were supposed to be actually paying attention to all things nuclear. Maybe if they’d done something a little closer to that, the facilities what house the things would be just slightly more resistent to 82-year-old nuns and their handyman friends. And if you thought that’d send any government official worth his salt out shopping for a new contractor, boy are you in the wrong universe. What they do, instead? Well… uh…

    A Department of Energy report (PDF) on the incident found ‘troubling displays of ineptitude in responding to alarms, failures to maintain critical 2 security equipment, over reliance on compensatory measures, misunderstanding of security protocols, poor communications, and weaknesses in contract and resource management.’ The contractors have been put on notice, (PDF), but they still have the contracts.

    And that, folks, is national security taken seriously. Although, I guess with all those terrorist children the TSA manages to stop, they can place a little less importance on, you know, securing the shit the terrorists might actually have it in their heads to get after. Yeah, why not? Let’s run with that. Because quite honestly anything else just makes my brain wanna supernova. And I’m gonna need that for later.

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  • Probable cause is so 2000, y’know?

    Every couple months, something new and interesting crops up that makes me quite glad I’m not actually a US citizen. A recent example, following the federal trend, comes out of California–who’s governor has vetoed the hell out of a bill that would have required law enforcement to actually, you know, have a reason–and a warrant–to obtain information such as the location information that’s now stored on pretty much any smartphone in existence. What that means, escentially, is that California cops can get a hold of your cell provider, and request a history of everywhere that cell phone has been detected. For no reason other than, uh, they can. Oh yeah, and terrorism. I guess I shoulda listened to the guy who called me at Dell at 4:30 in the morning just to talk to me about how the government’s watching everything he does so he has to be careful who he talks to–he might have just been onto something. Oh, and the next time some lawyer friend of yours starts talking about probable cause, just smile, nod, and walk away. The government don’t need no stinkin’ probable cause.

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