win32:virut

I'm writing this on my Netbook. It's a bit like a laptop but you can't call it a laptop because it's smaller than a laptop which makes it easier to fit on top of your lap. And don't even think about calling it a notebook. If you call a netbook a laptop or notebook I.T people will look at you with a wry smile and then attempt to explain your error using words like cloud computing, solid state and x86, which isn't even a word. Talking to I.T folk is like talking to dolphins, you know they know more than you do and they have a lovely smiling faces but all you hear are squeaks and whistles unless you are a dolphin as well.

If you are interested, netbook is a portmanteau of the words internet and notebook.
Portmanteau is a portmanteau of Natalie Portman and te au, which means the gold in Maori, i.e the golden girl in the film with Tem Morrison.

Portmanteau is a good word. Win32:virut is not a good word, because it has a colon in the middle and because it is a virus. The colon in your body is used to pass shit out of your system, the colon in win32:vitro turns your system into shit and then dumps it all over you while making more shit than seems possible for its size, like an evil evil baby.

Here's some more words that sound like clicks and whistles when you say them aloud: Parasitic file infector of PE files with .EXE extension, an IRC bot communicating on TCP port 65520, polymorphic entry point obscuring (EPO) and my favourite of all ZOMBIFY.

On the monitor of my desktop, a portmanteau of the words de and sktopiary, i.e a bush trimmed into the shape of a German shepherd, there is a blue screen filled with more squeaks and whistles like: linux kernal, mersenne twister, DoD 5220.22-M and my favourites of all URANDOM KOK.

The screen is telling me that in 10:29:25 I will have erased everything on my computer so even if I left my computer in the Pentagon and 100 Pentagon people worked for 100 years with 100 monkeys to see what things I had on my computer they would only find out that I once tried to install my own sound card and lost half the screws before putting the outer case back on.

The program I am using is called Darik's Boot and Nuke 1.0.7. I don't know who Darik is but I'd like to thank him or her, unless they are the Ukranian who wrote win32:virut. The last few days have been somewhat stressful. It's been like watching an episode of Target where a dodgy Ukranian builder comes into your house, sniffs all your undies, craps on your carpet and whacks off over your record collection while sticking your toothbrush up his bum. The fact that I invited the builder into my house in the hope of getting my hands on his crack makes it all the worse. Although I frisked the Ukranian vigorously with my anti-virus software I have only myself to blame.

I have tried in vain to battle the builder with the help of various dolphins around the world and their dolphin discussion forums. I have downloaded scanners and software fixes and booted myself into safe modes with no success. The Ukranian builder knows my every move, he blocks my access to the sites that may offer assistance and every scan just makes him angrier and more destructive. So I have resorted to the scorched earth policy. A small parcel of documents and mp3's have made it on the last chopper out and my hard drives are being annilated before my eyes. This is probably what William Shatner felt like when he blew up the Enterprise, it is painful, liberating and necessary. I just hope the builder is not clinging to the bottom of my chopper waiting to corrupt me again.

The Second Posting

I now know what Susan Boyle feels like. I'm feeling all squishy and Scottish and slightly mad due to becoming an overnight internet phenonenon. I've also been singing 'I Dreamed A Dream' over and over again flirtatiously to the pigeon outside my window. Here is a picture of the pigeon closely followed by a picture of Jesus just for Irene. Jesus is not outside my window though, he is everywhere all at once, just like Susan Boyle.
I was dreading this second post and it probably wouldn't have appeared without the tsunami of internet love that flooded into my port and the three people who became my followers. When you have followers you have responsibilities and although I would never compare myself to Jesus, I'm just like Jesus and feel the need to share some more crap with people who are willing to listen.

God, that picture of Jesus I found is intriguing. I don't know much about religion. The only bit of the bible I've read is the 666 section of Revelations after watching The Omen. I was in London last month and saw Sam Neil twice in two days and he was Damien Thorn in Omen III: Final Conflict. He was looking very grey and drinking a flat white. I should have asked him to take a photo of me to see if there was a line through my head but I didn't.

Anyway, Jesus looks like just like I did straight after buying my Big Wednesday ticket last night, fingers crossed and looking skyward full of hope while holding a flaming cupcake. I even put a red mark on my hand to remind myself to buy a Big Wednesday ticket although my cupcake didn't have what appears to be a wee cupcake crown of thorns around it. The circle behind Jesus looks like a coin with his head in front of it and guess what....the Big Wednesday coin toss was heads! Two of his fingers are pointing to the other four fingers and one of the numbers that came up was 24! His crossed fingers are making the Roman numeral for 10 which is over his 2 fingers so Jesus is telling you to divide 10 by 2 and then add the 4 fingers of his left hand which gives 9...another of the numbers that came up last night! Jesus has a great pair of legs and another of the numbers was 11! I could go on but you get the picture. If I'd had this picture yesterday I'd be worth $36 million dollars by now instead of someone in Masterton, who even won Division 2 as well just to rub it in. Nobody needs $36 million in Masterton.

Nicklejack

My first ever blog post was going to be of an introductory nature with a link to Michael Legg's Blog which is funnier than mine. As I was browsing in preparation and procrastination my eyes wandered over this startling and depressing headline. Nickelback are a truly excruciating band who make me angry about everything at the same time, sort of like what Christopher Lambert felt after chopping off the Kurgan's head but really angry. Their lead singer is a gentleman by the name of Chad Kroeger. He used to work at Starbucks and would frequently say to the idiots buying their overpriced mediocre coffee, 'Here's your nickel back' and then just like that, the worst band in the world was born. Chad sings like he trying to force out a really large never-rending stool that gets wider and more painful during the choruses. You've probably all suffered through 'How You Remind Me' and I'm sure you will all remember other Nickelback hits such as Photograph, Savin' Me, Far Away and Rockstar. All of these songs have two things in common...they are all absolute shit and they are all the same song. They have recently released singles titled 'Feelin' Way Too Damn Good', 'Something In Your Mouth' and 'I'd Come For You' which leads me to suspect Chad liked sharing his Canadian bacon around at Starbucks and the frothy top on Chad's frappuccino wasn't milk. Nickelback have sold 31 million albums. In the 2000's they were the second best foreign selling act in the US, behind some obscure British band called The Beatles. Jesus wept.

I'm sure there are probably 31 million people who think Jack Johnson is Jesus. He looks a bit like Jesus if Jesus had known about designer stubble. If Jesus was alive today I bet he would be a surfer because surfer's are in touch with nature and all spiritual like and say words like 'dude' and 'sick' and 'tubular bells'. Unfortunately Jack Johnson is not Jesus, he is Satan disguised as "a Hawaiian singer-songwriter, musician, filmmaker and surfer, known for his work in the soft rock genre." (Wikipedia) If Nickelback make me angry, Jack Johnson makes me turn green and burst out of my clothes to run around with my shirt off waiting to be calmed down by someone who manages to make me remember that I like them and don't want to crush them with my big green hand. Jack is really mellow, like really mellow dude. He was a pro surfer until he hit his head and got 150 stitches and quite possibly a labotomy. Here's what he says about the incident:

"I like to joke that I hit my head so hard that that's why I'm so mellow, but I think it did mellow me out."

No it didn't Jack, it just made you slightly retarded. I can't stand Jack Johnson's music, it is boring, beige and bland and banal and base and bloody bollocks. I got drunk at a wedding once and danced to a covers band playing that Always Waiting song and have hated myself ever since. Even his name sounds like rhyming slang for an arse-hole. Jack=Jacksy=arse. Johnson rhymes with Ronson...Ronson Lighter...shiter=arse. If a big man with a handlebar approached you in a dark alley way and said 'I'm gonna shove this right up your Jack Johnson', you'd know where he was coming from and you'd know it would be more pleasurable than listening to Jack's music.