Getting Chilly in Here

My word's food for thought, the mind is like a cafeteria
Some rappers are inferior, but none are superior
My voice is choice, I'm one of the chosen
I might be Chill, but I'm not frozen
Self-preservation, survival of the better
Chill Rob plus the seventh letter
Flyin' off at every angle, can you tangle
Mix or handle, you don't hold a candle
To what you're hearin', you don't have a near win
But it's a clear miss, no wonder you fear this
And don't get pissed just because I riffed
I'll tell you what, smoke this:
I'm the Future Shock...

—Rob G, Future Shock

Hey, it’s getting cold in here. Both figuratively and literally. Poindexter is a freak…there, I said it. And why on my new updated Word is Poindexter coming up spelled correctly with no training of spelled/misspelled words? Poindexter, the weatherman who just made things a bit chillier for all of us still believing we had a bit of privacy or civil rights left. Well it’s official — we will have a papertrail as obvious as toilet paper hanging from our shoe heels at a security conference. Patriot Act is just another way for our lovely government to track you from cradle to grave in a most efficient way. It’s kind of fun having an identity that has been stolen and wrecked by some stranger already. Now when people look me up it looks like I’m living parallel lives and you can’t sort this from that. I was going to finally do something about that this year, but I think not now. I think the new thing will be to hack your own identity and put tremendous things in your file…the possibilities are endless. Perhaps I’ll amend the record to read I was Richard Nixon before the sex change and his obviously faked death ];->

“This ring-knocking master of deceit is back again with a plan even more scandalous than Iran-contra. He heads the "Information Awareness Office" in the otherwise excellent Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, which spawned the Internet and stealth aircraft technology. Poindexter is now realizing his 20-year dream: getting the "data-mining" power to snoop on every public and private act of every American.”
You Are a Suspect
New York Times
Nov. 14, 2002

That about sums it up; we’re screwed; bend over America and take it like a good patriot. That’s what that name implies, right? Here's Webster's definition:
Main Entry: pa·tri·ot
Pronunciation: 'pA-trE-&t, -"ät, chiefly British 'pa-trE-&t
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle French patriote compatriot, from Late Latin patriota, from Greek patriOtEs, from patria lineage, from patr-, patEr father
Date: 1605
:one who loves his or her country and supports its authority and interests

It says to me that the only people who mind being tracked aren’t really patriots, right??? The pendulum has swung and it’ll take a while for it to swing back. What is scary is that this is the administration that will see the greatest technology growth since the Atomic Bomb – and it’ll be under this oppressive, but well-funded technology spurt that will see the true potential of nanotechnology. It will also be the administration that we’ll see quite a bit of unrest in America's lower income communities. Local election votes in the lower income communities has increased over the last two years due to the get-out-and-vote programs and I hope we see an increase in the middle-American vote. Voting overall has been at an all time low. Yes, interesting times ahead. Hopefully with the growing chaos in this administration we'll start the swing of the pendulum the other way again.

Speaking of surveillance … the government agency that gets the award for tagging my site a tremendous amount of times (even more so than any dot-com or org) is The defense Information System Agency. Perhaps it’s some cute civilian code boy stuck in a military job who has a crush on me and wants to read my profanity out loud…. Maybe it’s an agent, or…I don’t know. I like to think of my obsessive watcher as a dark-haired brainiac Jewish guy who enjoys coding without a shirt on (okay, so this only works in my fantasy, not in the offices of DISA). You know there is nothing (almost) sexier than observing a man coding (and unaware he’s being watched) at my desk, in my office, from my my bedroom as I peer over my book and pretend to read? Yes, I have been a Geek far too long. Anyhow, I do recommend that you go to the site because there is an open source call for comments…go, be, comment.

Open Source Within DoD

The use of Open Source software within Department of Defense systems is an important issue under discussion with the department. Open Source software currently provides the crucial underpinnings for systems critical to the nation's defense. For example, Open Source software implementations of the World-Wide-Web (WWW), the domain naming system (DNS) and the basic internet protocols themselves (TCP/IP) provide an assured basis for interoperability among diverse defense systems.

To support a discussion regarding guidance needed for the use of Open Source software within DOD systems, the Defense Information Systems Agency (DISA) is soliciting comment to the following DRAFT Frequently Asked Questions (FAQ) documents from all interested parties. Hardcopy or email comments should be returned to DISA Public Affairs Office ( with a subject line "Open Source FAQ Comments". DISA will make every attempt (depending on volume received) to provide a timely response to change proposals received by November 15, 2002. An updated FAQ may be posted when/as the final dispositions of comments are made.

Anyhow, we lost the Big Game ; -( The score was 7 to 30. The game after the first quarter could have been called by any experienced woman. It was like watching a 40-year-old virgin guy go out on his Big Date…. And that 11 point spread the odds makers gave Cal? It was like the virgin’s buddy saying, “Yeah, and she really wants you, too.” That’s all it took was a little confidence after nine years of humiliating, frustrating losses for Cal to pull it off. That and a better band and a better team. Even better cheerleaders. We sucked as a whole this year – even the stadium “wave” abruptly stopped at the Stanford band section. And just like we could have called the conclusion of that 40-year-old virgin’s Big Date — 11 seconds before the game officially ended and the bleachers emptied out as one and the sea of people flooded the football field and the game was called early. Then the sea of blue and gold pulled down one goal and then used it as a bettering ram to clear the police from the other goal post. It was amazing to watch and even better from the ground floor (at risk to my safety since I was wearing my Stanford garb).

The crew wondered around from frat house to frat house filling our beer cups and we ended up at Henry’s. It was weird being back in there, I hadn’t been back since the incident and really felt creepy about going in, so did Pat. But, we went in anyway and that’s when we were given free drinks by the bartender who couldn’t figure out how to make a coffee keoki so just dumped a bunch of booze into coffee. The guy standing next to us at the bar told us that he had run a triathlon that day, and we were impressed. And then he told us he had lied just to impress us and then he kept putting his hand around the top of my skull like a basketball…as a jester of fondness I suppose. He asked if he could follow us so he could learn what real women did for a while; we kept our strapping young pet for a bit and released him back into the wild when he grew too drunk and could no longer stand. He was very affectionate and well behaved as the species goes.

Pat and I ended up at Jupiter listening to this great jazz band. It was a fabulous evening and we had a lot of fun, and we didn’t even feel bad about losing. As with the 40-year-old virgin analogy, it was inevitable and a natural course of action. But for every action there is a reaction…and we are going to kick their asses next year when the new coach gets a handle on his team.

I just got back from what a fabulous evening — there’s an interesting project out there some of you should look into, but I’ll have to get it later because I left it in the car…and it’s late and I’m naked and it’s cold out there. It’s cold in here. I’m going to bed now. I hope that I can wake up from the nightmare when Poindexter (AKA Freddie Kruger – how weird, another proper name that doesn’t show up as misspelled on the new system) shows up in the boiler room.