Eric Clapton - Before You Accuse Me

Unplugged, baby.

Here's a great use for your leftover Halloween candy

Operation Gratitude sends it to the troops:

We are excited to work with you again this year to collect and donate sweet treats for our Deployed Troops and First Responders. Did you know that last year we received and distributed a record-setting 533,891 pounds of candy? Together, let’s break that record again this year!

This idea is so filled with win that it's in danger of collapsing into a black hole of win.  Here's where you can donate.

Do you understand enough about the Internet Of Things to use it?

This is interesting:

Every time a major Internet-connected-product is released, we keep coming back to the debate over security vs. convenience. The progression of arguments goes something like this:

• One group expresses outrage/skepticism/ridicule of how this product doesn't need to be connected to the Internet;
• Another group argues how the benefits outweigh the risks and/or how the risks are overblown;
• There will be news stories on both sides of the issue, and the debate soon dies down as people move on to the next thing; and
• Most users are left wondering what to believe.

If you've been reading here, you aren't wondering.

As a security researcher, I often wonder whether the conveniences offered by these Internet-connected-devices are worth the potential security risks. To meaningfully understand the nuances of this ecosystem, I consciously made these devices a part of my daily life over the past year. One thing immediately stood out to me: there seems to be no proper mechanism to help users understand the ramifications of the risk/reward tradeoffs around these commonly used “personal” Internet-connected-devices, which makes it difficult for users to have any sort of effective understanding of their risks. I pointed out the same in a recent CNN Tech article about Amazon Key, where I also said:

A simple rule of thumb here could be to visualize the best case, average case, and worst case scenarios, see how each of those affect you, and take a call on whether you are equipped to deal with the fall out, and whether the tradeoffs are worth the convenience.

This is  a really good idea.  The article is long but very thought provoking.  The one thing that I would add is that there isn't a snowball's chance in the Mojave Desert that this will happen.  The reason is that security is the last thing on the IoT designer's minds.  IoT engineering funding comes from one of a very few places:

1. The existing appliance sales are flat, so quick add Internet connectivity to the refrigerator/stove/etc.  The goal is to raise the price point by adding cool and flash.
2. Adding Internet connectivity to the device is "Insanely Great" and will let you sell to people who want to "Think Different".  Hey, it worked for Apple, didn't it?
3. Someone wants to spy on you, and so makes your Barbie doll or whatever "Interactive".

In none of these cases do any of the marketing folks want you to actually be able to understand the risks you are introducing into your home.  Heck, I've been doing this for over 30 years and I can't understand the risks.

And so my approach is to say "not just 'no' but 'HELL no'" to any IoT devices.  Sorry, I don't want a cool refrigerator, I want one that keeps my food cold (at a low cost).  Sorry, I don't care if you think I should "think different".  And as to spying - yeah, that's typically my starting assumption for all of these devices.

That's probably unfair, to the devices and to the people who designed them.  But without the slightest possibility of figuring out just what is being done to me, that's actually my best option.  It very well may be your best option, too.  At least until Silicon Valley marketroids earn some of our trust back.

Halloween Memories - A Brigid Guest Post

Trick or Treating was big in my house, even as it came with its own set of rules. It was on Halloween, not a Friday or Saturday or what was convenient or politically correct. School night or not, we were out and we were going to get our loot.

My earliest memory of it was early grade school and that Cat outfit mom bought.  She was recently out of the hospital following cancer surgery and didn't have a lot of energy to sew one (she made most of my clothes with her little Singer machine), so she splurged on a store-bought costume.  I still have a photo of me in it, the black pants and top with a big glittery cat on the front, my cheeks flushed with the cold, one front tooth missing and a smile that said: "Look at all the candy Mom!"  As we got older, she encouraged us to make our own costumes, to spark our creativity (note to self - wearing Superman Cape does not enable user to fly).

As an adult, I do the same, though it's a rare party I'll go to, preferring a home cooked meal with the company of just one or two people, or even myself, to a crowd.  But sometimes I will venture out if the people are those I really enjoy spending time with, showing up with a smile and something hot from the oven to add to the table.

One party at a doctors house, I wasn't sure I'd be off duty so didn't get a costume. A friend from work, also invited, was going and he was in the same predicament.  He was a pretty tall guy and ex military, so I had an idea. I had him bring over a pair of fatigues. I wore the top half, which fit just down to mid-thigh, with flesh colored tights beneath. He wore the bottom half with combat boots and a flesh-colored T-shirt that I'd picked up with the tights at Wal-Mart.

We showed up and the guests, most of them as well, in the medical field said - "What ARE you two?"

Upper and Lower GI !

As adults, we can still laugh, even if it's sometimes just at ourselves.

Childhood Halloween traditions never varied. There was always Charlie Brown and the Great Pumpkin to watch.  For dinner we'd have hot dogs with sides of orange jello and some carrot sticks and a glass of milk.  Then we'd suit up as quickly as firemen, eager to be out the door, out into the night where the cool Fall breeze shivered and stirred the grass where the leaves had long since fallen.

I paired off with a brother who was older. We were limited to where we could go but we had pillow cases  that would hold a LOT of goodies.

There would be an occasional homemade caramel apple, popcorn ball or another such treat from a couple of older ladies up the street, but they put little commercial address labels on the wrapped treat with a note so our mom's knew immediately who sent it and that it would be good to eat.  But the occasional popcorn ball aside, what we were after was the commercial loot. Hershey's and Tootsie Rolls, Fruit Stripe gum, Sugar Daddies, Smartees, Milk Duds (still a favorite), Crows, Skybar, Nestle Crunch, Dots, Pixy Sticks, Big Hunk, Boston Baked Beans (those were given away, I still don't like them), Gobstoppers, SweetTarts (more, please), Charms, those little candy necklaces, Necco Wafers, Slo Pokes, Jolly Ranchers, Chic-o-Sticks, Bazooka gum.

The only thing Mom wouldn't let us keep was the Sugar Daddies. For some reason she thought those would just ruin our teeth and would hide them away with a plan for them to be rationed out one by one over time. Usually however, after a month, she'd forget about them. We'd run stealthy espionage missions into the kitchen until we found her hiding spot and would capture them and hide them in our secret fort to ruin our teeth at our own darn pace.

But the trick or treating wasn't just about the candy. It was being out, imaginations running free, flashlights shining into a future as exciting as we could imagine.

To each porch that had a light on we'd go, candy bag in hand. Trick or Treat, though with my front tooth missing, more like Twik or Tweat. Still that missing tooth got me extra candy (oh aren't you cute).

One house, always anticipated, had its owner dress like a witch, press on warts and all, and she'd have a steaming cauldron of dry ice and spooky music playing. That was the best part of that whole street. We'd approach the door, it would open with a haunting creak, the interior of the room blooming with light, a flutter of slender muscles in our arms as we held out our bags, trying to show we weren't really scared. That's just some kids Mom. . right? She really doesn't turn into a witch every Halloween? Then she would laugh, more of a honeyed laugh than a cackle, blue eyes, sparkling, holding us silent with her lifted hand from which would pour down sweet goodness, not toads or bats or other scary things.

But the trick or treating wasn't just about the candy. It was being out, after dark, by ourselves, just kids, with scores of other kids, flashlights in hand. Out in front of us, two whole blocks, dozens of houses, the darkness slung low with lights, the night blowing cool and full of promise.

One year I was a ghost. That year a lot of kids were ghosts, the lumber mill having laid off a bunch of men, and money for costumes was sorely lacking. An old sheet, a couple of holes cut for eyes and you were a ghost. Pity the poor kid who was the pink ghost, he was going to get flattened like a pancake next time the boys played dodge ball. Other years, the costumes were as wide as our imagination and bigger than all our fears.

In our garb, we hovered over places of play, breathing sugar-fueled dreams like air, ashen figures gliding through the night on silent feet. To each porch that had a light on we'd go, candy bag in hand.  The houses weren't decorated up the way they are now, but on the porch would often be a lone jack o lantern, eyes shining from a candle or some fake cobwebs along the porch (those aren't fake! ack ack ack, get it out of my hair!) We'd pass each other wondering just who was that superhero, who was that under the Casper mask? We scurried along, hands waving, quick steps in time to the chatter of chilled breath, the blocks of a post-war suburb stretching out, the dim lights of small-town America.

As ghosts, cowboys, baseball players and Superman, we covered ground, drawing in deep breaths of it all, unutterably aware of how brief this night would be. I think even as kids we know that too soon we'd have to put this other life, this other identify away, as we melted anonymously back into our regular life, with wistful longing and the taste of sweetness on our lips.

Even though we were told to just do two blocks, we always went ahead and did that third one, or as much of it as we could fit in before our little watches told us it was time to back. We advanced, trudging up the steps to that first house, looking over our shoulders as if we could already see our Mom scolding us. We hit about six more houses, with other kids from our street, before as a group we agreed to go back. We swear each other to secret, the words not spoken but carved into stone upon which lies a nameless and forgotten effigy, those secrets of childhood we bear with us always.

There up ahead, the lights of our house. Home! We cross the empty lot where a new house was going in, following a faint path were dozens of small feet had worn the rotting leaves down to the soil. We clicked off the flashlight, whispering there in the dark about Great Pumpkins and Ghosts, where overhead, Chestnut trees thinned against the skies.

The wind had blown the clouds away, leaving a bright starry night, imaginary bat wings beating in the trees, a black cat crossing the road under the silver echo of the stars. Smoke hangs on the air suspended, the ash of burnt leaves that once rattled on the ground like tin.  I stretch out my hand into the vast expanse of darkness as if to clutch a star, to save a sweet fragment of the night to tuck into the book of that day.

Too soon it would be time to go in, the night rushing past all too quickly, stolen moments of sweetness there in the dark. As children we live in the moment, we live in a sugary world where not all is a warning, where people are inherently good, and the goblins and witches and demons take off their costume and reveal a harmless smile. We know that in recollection, we see how quickly it all went past, and holding a sweet piece of time with blurred eyes, I realize we all have lost part of that, the innocence and the wonder, forever, even if memory remains.

When we got back to the house, Mom sorted through our candy, tossing anything not completely wrapped, being careful. But we appreciated that she let the two of us go without parental oversight those last few years; Big Bro being big enough to keep me safe in the street. There were so many other kids out, the streets full, an adult not in sight but for the ones with little tiny kids. She had to worry, it was dark after all, we were hardly isolated, but we were alone.

We probably didn't even look back as we ran out to start our night of fun. But if we had, we would have seen her standing there, evanescent and forlorn, even as she put a smile on her face and waved, so we'd venture forth with hope, not fear.

There weren't many more Halloweens with her there. Too soon we lost her. Too soon we were adults living on our own and learning that too much sugar can make you fat, and that roses often draw blood. Too soon we'd understand the night's promise of unease, the dangers that lurk in the shadows, finalities that go beyond a grave. But she let us live with our innocence as long as she could, while preparing us to be fighters and risk takers, teaching us to be not fixed, but flexible in the light, no darkness to flee through and from that we could not handle armed with faith and occasionally a firearm.

Tonight, the wind is silent and the house stirs, shadows gathering in the basement, a dark pine forever trying an ancient latch on the window of the room in which I sleep. I smile at a taste of sweetness on my lips, a stolen moment of childhood nibbled before bed. Around me are homes, some dark and cold, no pumpkins yet in the yard, the doors shuttered against laughter. There are always those that look at childhood dreams like viewing something through the glass, behind which is only vacuum, from which no sound emits and which, too soon, fades to where they simply live anchored, until they simply cease to exist.

Happy Halloween

I hope that you have a costume that doesn't confuse people.

The Queen Of The World and I plan on being Thing 1 and Thing 2 (with Wolfgang as Thing 3).  I would suggest that she is dressing up as a Blue Haired Lady but think I know where that discussion would lead.  And if I behave, I might get her to wear this again:

Her costume doesn't confuse me, nosiree.  Yowser.  No offense to you dudes out there, but I won, suckas.

Your Halloween humor is over at Chicken Mom's place.  Heh.

And it isn't Halloween without the greatest Halloween song ever recorded.  Bring us on home, Vincent Price ...

The greatest OPSEC failure of the Pacific Theater

Interesting post at ChicagoBoyz about how improperly classified material seized by the Japanese from the grounded submarine U.S.S. Darter led to at least four Carriers being hit by Kamikazes.  I'd never heard of this event, and there's quite an interesting discussion about how Navy Department internal politics buried this story.

OPSEC is hard, because you have lots of people involved (training is always imperfect) and the operate under stress (fatigue, battlefield conditions, etc).  It was an OPSEC failure that led to the identification and arrest of the Dread Pirate Roberts (creator of the Silk Road).

The Mechanics of the Big Lie

Interesting (but long) discussion of how the Media uses intentional fake stories as cover to debunk actual real news:

The Left implemented a novel technique of the Big Lie that I will call a Flooding Fake here.  This technique was especially widely used by climate alarmism.  This is what it looks like:

1. An important figure or organization on the Left is caught doing something wrong, saying something outrageous, or blatantly lying.
2. The Left injects into public discourse an absolutely fake, but believable, account of this action and immediately “debunks” this account.
3. The fake narrative is accepted by the public as truth because the public knows that something similar has happened.  The immediate debunking is rejected as a cover-up attempt.
4. Later, when people accuse the original wrongdoer they use elements of the fake narrative.  This is when “fact checkers” jump on them.  Fake news networks accuse honest statesmen and commentators of spreading fake news.  The liberals’ conviction that the conservatives are stupid and uninformed gets deeper.  Google buries honest pieces far from public sight.  Facebook tries to prevent their sharing.  Leftist politicians cry that they lost elections because of fake news.

An example is a global cooling scare of the 70s.

Orwell's MiniTru could not be reached for comment.  Highly recommended.

That's OK. Probably nobody will notice

Wait, what?

The German rail operator Deutsche Bahn (DB) has defended its decision to name a high-speed train after the world-famous Holocaust victim Anne Frank.

Anne Frank's name is among those of 25 famous Germans chosen by a jury after a public consultation.

A German conservative MP, Iris Eberl, tweeted that it was a "tasteless" choice, as Anne Frank and other Jews had been sent by train to their deaths.

[blink] [blink]

I don't think that Marketing fail gets bigger than this.

New life for your old Windows Vista computer

El Reg talks up a new Linux distribution that seems a great fit for old Vista boxes:

The Linux distribution Q4OS sounds like textspeak from a teenager from 1997, but it has potential, and it's not a bad option for Linux newbies. 

Click to enlarge

The Linux OS is flexible. If one Linux distro is an unfriendly fit, you can replace it with another one that has a more appealing options list on the desktop environment or user interface front. 

Debian-based Q4OS, developed by a team of software designers in Germany, has a lightweight design that allows it to run on nearly any hardware config. I have run it on ageing computers from the early days of Windows Vista.

Fast, secure, and runs on old hardware (including 32 bit CPUs).  Oh, and it's free.  If you have a wheezing old Vista box, you might want to try this out.

Top 7 baseball films

It's World Series time, and so here are the top 7 baseball films.  These may tide you over until spring training:

(Not in the running) Field Of Dreams.  I just can't get over the implausible premise ("Build it and they will come"), and this is my list.  Other than that, it's a fine film.  I think you can watch this with your kids and grandkids, assuming you want to watch it.  But I think I fell asleep watching it so I can't really remember.

7. Angels In The Outfield.  Sure, it's as predictable as a sunny summer day.  Sure, it's made by Disney.  Sure, it has complete games getting pitched long after they stopped pitching complete games.  It's a fun romp that is 100% kid friendly.  Quotable quotes: "It could happen!".

6. A League Of Their Own.  Remember nostalgia?  Quotable quote: "There's no crying in baseball!  You know why?  Because there's no crying in baseball!"  You can watch this with your kids or grandkids.

5. Major League.  This is slapstick and entirely predictable but funny as hell.  Do not watch this with your kids or grandkids.  Quotable quote: "Just a reminder, fans, comin' up is our 'Die-hard Night' here at the stadium. Free admission to anyone who was actually alive the last time the Indians won a pennant."

4. Sandlot.  This is a coming of age story reminiscent of the old saying: In spring, a young man's thoughts lightly turn to thoughts of love baseball. Quotable quote: "You're killing me, Smalls!" (Sandlot).

3. Fever Pitch.  It's about the 2004 Red Sox.  Sure, it's a romantic comedy.  Did I mention that it was about the 2004 Red Sox?  You probably should not watch this with your kids or grandkids, since there are some bedroom scenes.  Quotable quote: "Careful, kid. They'll break your heart."  Did I mention that it was about the Red Sox?

2. Moneyball.  This is a great story about how "Big Data" changed the game of baseball.  Except for some language, this is safe to watch with your (older) kids or grandkids (younger kids are likely to lose interest).  Quotable quote: "It's hard not to be romantic about baseball. This kind of thing, it's fun for the fans. It sells tickets and hot dogs. Doesn't mean anything."

1. Bull Durham.  It tells the story of the people who don't make it to The Show, both the players and the people who root for them.  It is very bitter sweet, and tells a story of striving and losing. Important note: You can not watch this with your kids or grand kids.  Quotable Quote: "Don't try to strike everybody out. Strikeouts are boring! Besides that, they're fascist. Throw some ground balls - it's more democratic."

(The idea for this list was shamelessly stolen from Chris Lynch.  You do read him every day, don't you?)

The difference between Baseball and Football

The World Series opens with the (televised) national anthem.  All the players are standing, with their hands over their hearts.

The NFL doesn't allow the broadcasting of the national anthem.  To ask why not is to answer the question.

Just another one to add to Tom Boswell's list.

An Excerpt From Calexit the Anthology -A Brigid Guest Post

An excerpt from my novella -- "Freedom's Ride" --  which is in 

• Calexit - The Anthology

• which has gone live on Kindle or

• dead tree addition

       "She gently pats the small firearm in her pocket.  It’s illegal, one of the many things, it seems, that’s called illegal here in Cali anymore.  Breaking the law is not in her blood, but without it, her blood could be spilled.

      From the beginning of time, there have been laws; there have been tools that can be used as weapons, including firearms. There has been good and evil. There have been two distinct and competing impulses that exist among humans, one, the instinct to live by the law, to act peacefully except in matters of self-defense, to follow moral commands for the good of the group; and the other, the instinct to gratify one's immediate desires without adherence to any such law or moral code, using violence, not as a means of protection, but to simply to obtain supremacy over others or force one’s will on someone without defense.

      How did that all change, she thinks, to where we are in a world where everyone expects something for free, laws and the Constitution are whims, and those in power do anything they can to stay there, even if it means blood continues to flow in the street? How did we get to a point where greed and self-entitlement broke this once proud land away from our country, which she STILL believes is HER country, with a savage force that would put any earthquake to shame?

      She steps outside to lock the gate.  It’s only one additional thing between the forest and her door, but she sleeps better knowing it is locked, not fear of the four-legged creatures but of the two-legged ones. When she first moved here she replaced the pin tumblers on her gate, grooming station and supply shed with magnetic and combination to make them less easy to “lock-bump” and break in.

      A hundred yards away, there is a moonlit lane between pine trees and stone. There in the shadows, only steps away, a long shadow shifts. She stops, sensing movement, sensing darkness within the dark, in the woods past her clothesline. Her hand moves to her firearm, poised to use it if needed. It is only a fox, easing back through the trees; a shadow, a form that slides like light through a picket fence, slanting sideways, and then disappears under cover. Her hand eases away from her weapon, but she backs away, towards the candlelight, towards home and sleep.

      She walks quietly back towards the house. She goes a different time each day, knowing that predators rely on patterns. There in the distance, a couple of coyotes, trotting along the edge of the meadow, through snow that clutched at their empty bellies, heads cocked, eyes forward, using instinct, tooth and sinew to find that one small morsel there breathing under the snow, trying to hide for its life, a small shivering rabbit, wishing as desperately not to be eaten alive as the coyote desperately wishes to consume. The coyote stops to look at her in the stark moonlight, with what looks to be a smile on his face, not one of welcome but of mockery; the smile of a predator. He watches as she moves on down the road towards her door, round in the chamber, ready if needed.

      She walks back towards the house when from the edge of the woods comes motion and sound, a blurred commotion, a high pitched, soft pleading scream that breaks the lie of safety. She looks towards the trees and sees something darting quickly, a dark shape, too small to be human, too quick for her to catch a good glimpse. There, in the ditch, a small white form, a jagged tear in its furry throat, rabbity legs twitching in the remembrance of life.

      As she bolts the door behind her for the night, the abandon and innocent glee that was childhood remain forever lodged in her mind, just as do those lessons, even the painful ones. She puts her hands up to her nose and smells the faint, clean scent of soap, something so plain and simple, much like what once stood for truth.  Today, she is no longer trusted with either a weapon or a voice but the Calis can’t take her honorable heart. What guides her to maintain that honor is not a law, it is not the dictate of a ruling body, and it is bound to her by the honor of the past and the examples of her upbringing.

      She moves into the house, ears listening to anything unusual, eyes looking for anything out of order, a habit that is not fear but caution, locking the door behind her, prepared and aware. Outside, the snow blankets the ground with a soft innocence, hiding more than the ground but the very risks of the wild that play out in the night, beyond her sight.

      She looks outside one last time to make sure she is alone, the evening air cooling her blood, the field empty and quiet, except for the steady sound of a small wounded animal, a ceaseless and unemphatic cry into the wind."

----------------

Also included in the anthology are stories by many well-known authors you will recognize along with a couple of new authors who many of you have read on their blogs. It was a great group of men and women to work on this with and I think we are all very proud of the effort and the organization by Gray Man Series author Jim Curtis in making it happen. Thank you, everyone, for supporting it.

When California declares independence, their dreams of socialist diversity become nightmares for many from the high Sierras to the Central Valley. Follow the lives of those who must decide whether to stand their ground or flee!

In San Diego, the commander of Naval Special Warfare Group One finds his hands tied by red tape, even as protesters storm the base and attack dependents. In Los Angeles, an airline mechanic must beg, borrow, or bribe to get his family on the plane out before the last flight out.

Elsewhere, a couple seeks out the new underground railroad after being forced to confess to crimes they didn't commit. In the new state of Jefferson, farmers must defend themselves against carpetbaggers and border raiders.

And in the high Sierras, a woman must make the decision to walk out alone...

Giuseppe Tartini - Devil's Trill Sonata

Halloween is upon us, and so appropriately fiendish music is the order of the day.  Giuseppe Tartini is the first person that we know owned a Stradivarius violin, and was renowned for his skill on that instrument.  This is his most famous composition, and is notoriously difficult to play.  One legend is that he had six fingers, which allowed him to perform like no other in his day.

It is said that this music came to him in a dream, a dream where he sold his soul to the Devil:

One night, in the year 1713 I dreamed I had made a pact with the devil for my soul. Everything went as I wished: my new servant anticipated my every desire. Among other things, I gave him my violin to see if he could play. How great was my astonishment on hearing a sonata so wonderful and so beautiful, played with such great art and intelligence, as I had never even conceived in my boldest flights of fantasy. I felt enraptured, transported, enchanted: my breath failed me, and I awoke. I immediately grasped my violin in order to retain, in part at least, the impression of my dream. In vain! The music which I at this time composed is indeed the best that I ever wrote, and I still call it the "Devil's Trill", but the difference between it and that which so moved me is so great that I would have destroyed my instrument and have said farewell to music forever if it had been possible for me to live without the enjoyment it affords me.

Whether there is any truth to this (or to the claim of six fingeredness) is lost in the mists of time.

Mr. Autry had a horse named Champion. He didn't have no horse named "Runner Up"

The Queen Of The World and I watched Angels In The Outfield last night.  I had never seen it, and it was great fun (if entirely predictable).  One thing that rang true in the film (maybe the only thing that rang true) was the cowboy owner who was clearly patterned off of the original singing cowboy movie star, Gene Autry.

Autry was the owner of the California Angels.  The post title is a quote from Angels manager, Gene Mauch.  The team was playing for the Pennant against the Red Sox in 1986, and Mauch gave a pep talk to the team before the final game.  The Sox won in extra innings.

Basement Finds - A Brigid Guest Post

Partner in Grime is a Mechanical Engineer.  Or at least he TELLS me he is.  :-)  For you see I've never actually seen his workplace or a paycheck, but large amounts of money just show up in our savings account.  I tease him a little about it.

I just returned from a week visiting my 97-year-old Dad and on the clothesline downstairs where my husband had done some laundry while I was away, were all these gloves.  Dozens of gloves, all stained with dark rust like colors that wouldn't come out.

I hear the back door open, then footsteps in the kitchen followed by a creak at the top of the stairs .. . I peer up and ask him as I hold up one of the creepy stained gloves.

"So babe - tell me again - mechanical engineer . . . or serial killer?"

I think I made him snort his beer.

You all have a safe, and sane weekend. I'll have some writing up this week when I get the household chores caught up.

Duke Ellington - Autumn Leaves

The leaves are turning color near Castle Borepatch.  This has for years been one of my favorite songs about the autumn.



It has perhaps the greatest jazz violin of all time, by (sometimes trumpeter) Ray Nance.  Ozzie Bailey does a spectacular job on vocals in both French (written by poet Jacques Prévert) and English (by Johnny Mercer).  The music was composed by Joseph Kosma.

Fun fact: this was Yves Montand's signature song.  Just about everyone recorded this (Sinatra, Doris Day, Andy Williams, Miles Davis, Joan Baez, and Nat King Cole who recorded it in Japanese), but I love this version.

And just to show how the absurd can rise to the sublime, here is Nat singing this in Japanese.  I'm not sure that anyone other than him could have pulled it off, but he did pull it off.

I *so* want to do this

Instructions:

1. Soak one roll of toilet paper in kerosene.

2. Put roll in jack o'lantern.

3. Light roll (using a LONG match).

Holy cow, I want to do that.  Sadly, there are a ton of small children in the village at the foot of Castle Borepatch, so I think I will have to pass.  *sigh*

Cool Jack o'lantern

With so many experts, you have so many recommendations to choose from

That's not a vote of confidence, actually.  Why is security so hard?  Even security experts can't agree:

A Google-conducted survey of 231 infosec pros worldwide has reaffirmed the industry's faith in strong passwords, and achieved consensus about nothing else. 

It's almost unfair to make fun of the study's title, “152 Simple Steps to Stay Safe Online: Security Advice for Non-Tech-Savvy Users”, because that's clearly an editorial slip-up (the document [PDF] also includes the note, “ED: Please provide section title”). 

What's clear is that infosec types can't agree, on an industry-wide basis, on the content of anything like the Australian Signals Directorate's (ASD's) enterprise-focussed “Essential Eight” safety strategies.

Sigh.  Not only is there no agreement, things are really all over the map:

Here, we pick out everything with more than 30 mentions: 

Advice	Mentions
Patch systems and software	90
Use unique passwords	68
Use strong passwords	58
Use multifactor authentication	36
Use antivirus software	35
Use a password manager	33

However, to Vulture South's eagle eye (sorry), it's depressing how many things we'd consider obvious lacked traction even among experts. 

Advice	Mentions
Don't open unexpected attachments	19
Limit privileges (don't run as admin)	12
Backup your data	10
Don't trust open networks	4
Lock all devices	4
Don't use Java	4

Only 10 experts said back up your data?  Yikes.

This is why we can't have nice things on the Internet, folks.

Ooh, snap!

Seen on Gab.ai.