Two-Meat Tuesday, part uno

Family and digital graffiti.

Sunday afternoon, gorgeous day, beautiful woman, party to attend, and I was meandering through a store called Target. Voice mail buzzed. It was a cousin, one who is very close to me in age and demeanor, as well as hair longer than mine, and he was thinking about stopping by to see me.

I haven’t seen him since the family was together a few years ago. I hastily rearranged my schedule, and we spent part of the afternoon, out under the awning of a local coffee shop, sipping ice tea and other beverages.

Not that size is important, but he was telling tales about his children, a 12-year old daughter who is five-foot, nine inches and still growing.

“Old wives’ tale about taking their size at age two? According to that, she’ll be 6-foot-four.”

Cousin (Virgo) left, home to Planet Houston.

Then, after going by that sweet Pisces for her birthday party, I came home to fish.

Fed a lot of fish, caught one. Then I checked the web page, and in under 15 minutes, I corrected a little problem.

I’d left a slightly insecure administrative utility in a virtually unused directory, and that was discovered by someone with a purported UK address.

The perps just changed the index file, didn’t get any data (nothing worth keeping – must’ve been a disappointing hack), and when I started changing passwords via secure channels, I screwed up more stuff than the break-in. Plus frustration.

Copied the digital graffiti, saved the “fingerprints,” and I took care of my little administrative leak. Only took about 12 hours. Last day of the month. Too bad it means I have to monitor the site more closely for a while.

Unrelated image:

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alt-tues

How I wish I’d moved to an Apple server, especially after Sunday night’s minor annoyance.

Copyright 2005 by Kramer Wetzel for astrofish.net. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed without prior written consent from the author.

About the author: Born and raised in a small town in East Texas, Kramer Wetzel spent years honing his craft in a trailer park in South Austin. He hates writing about himself in third person. More at KramerWetzel.com.

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