Monday, May 15, 2017

Global Warming science, explained by Dilbert

This is pretty funny:


But there's a point that is being made here, that most people don't pay attention to.  It's the same point made in this classic New Yorker comic:


Do you see the bait and switch?  There is solid science at the core of climate science - greenhouse theory and the physics of energy absorption and spectrum bands is sound science.  You can do experiments and the theory holds up really well.

But then the uncertainties start leaking in.  The predicted "hot spot" that cycles heat from the upper atmosphere to the lower (so as to warm the surface) seems not to be anywhere that anyone can find.  The temperature databases have all sorts of problems, so the uncertainty grows again when you ask how Urban Heat Island and infilling/gridding change the recorded values.

But that's just the set up - Dilbert drives home the glaring fact that 98% of the CMIP5 climate models relied on by the IPCC for their AR5 report have not predicted the last 20 years of climate - the "pause" (sometimes called "hiatus" where there has been no statistically measurable temperature change.

Remember the "Stimulus" and how unemployment would drop to normal levels in 2010?  The models used to justify a trillion dollar boondoggle didn't hold water.  Why is CMIP5 better?

These are THE questions, but the entire debate is framed as "Don't you know that Greenhouse science is settled?"  Well, yeah, but that doesn't say anything about what temperature will be in a century.

Bait and Switch - it's what's for dinner in the Climate Science Cafe.

Thanks to Rick for emailing the link to Dilbert.

Ransomware: It's the end of the world (as we know it)

Well, it's not but stick with me.  Late last week some Bad Guys released a ransomware attack (malware that encrypts your files and refuses to decrypt them until you pay them money).  This attacked computers all over the world, and shut down some hospitals in the UK among other unpleasantness.  Brian Krebs has a good article with background.


Over the weekend, some White Hats figured out how to turn it off ("kill switch").  The whole thing looks to be a big old wet firecracker.


But hang on:
Miscreants have launched a ransomware worm variant that abuses the same vulnerability as ‪the infamous WannaCry‬pt‪ malware
Danish firm Heimdal Security warned on Sunday that the new Uiwix strain doesn't include a kill-switch domain, like the one that proved instrumental in minimising the harm caused by WannaCrypt last week, although this is subject to some dispute.
Some day soon there will be a version that won't be easily shut off.  That will be the End Of The World (as we know it).

Except maybe not.  So what if your files are all placed off limits by malware encryption, as long as you have another copy.

I have been posting about this for a long time, and co-blogger ASM826 (who does IT for a living) has been talking about this, too.  Here is a starting point for some information about why this is important.  Get a backup service (one of the ones where your data gets uploaded to their cloud) and then you will be basically immune to ransomware - if you get infected just reinstall the OS and restore your data from the cloud backup.

So the ransomware is getting nastier, and it's the end of the world as we know it.  But if you back up your data, you'll feel fine.

UPDATE 15 May 2017 13:14: Hat tip to Lawrence Person of Battleswarm Blog for the "Make Big Money" graphic.  You are reading him every day, right?

Sunday, May 14, 2017

Where Did the Time Go - A Brigid Post

The morning was quiet, the phone silent, outside only the cool quietness of a Sunday morning.

It was Mother's Day, a  day of quiet reflection and of sorting through some old photographs that were just put quickly into a box for the move.  My mom and stepmom are both gone so it will be a quiet day with my husband and me sharing some stories and some memories.

As I talked with a friend yesterday, we discussed how we tell our stories because they are in us. Money and fame can be indicators as to the merits of our craft, but underneath it is simply the joy that is in the telling, and the recognition within us that to others, the stories are worthy of being told.

As I opened that box, I see one photo of my brother and I. I am wearing a dress. I do NOT look happy.  I have the same attitude about dresses to this day, though in the closet is a Celtic blue and white wedding gown in the best Renaissance maiden style, worn with love that is as strong today as then.

Further down in a pile, a photo of my parents. They look to be in their 40's. They are in cowboy gear, surrounded by others in cowboy gear.  They look like their very own Roy Rogers movie and given the empties on the table - the cowboy gang had not just whiskey, but beer for their horses

There are a few photos from my youth.  I look at them in wonderment, not even being aware at the time of that youth, or even of my face or form, it just being the vehicle to move me through my days.

There are photos of my daughter, of my granddaughters, of great nieces and nephews.  There's a photo of that dress, that wedding over three years ago, and seemed like yesterday.

Where did the time go?
Did I note as I left my early youth that the passage had begun?  Or did I simply float, detached from the earth, traveling solitary and swift through the skies, as if I were my own planet, the stars around me just distant distractions.

We do that, when we're young, casting off that which seeks to hold us earthbound, moving onward in that circular solitude that is the egocentricity of youth.  Once in a while we meet others like ourselves caught up in their own destinies, appearing as nothing more than a speck on the horizon then moving away.  We had our own futures, and they had theirs  We might join up in a brief flare of the sun that at the time seemed forever but in looking back we see it as brilliant and quick as a flash of the muzzle, as short as a fleeting dream.

Where did the time go?
I look at other pictures - those years purposefully alone, my life a landscape warmed by Autumn's sun but not enough where it stirs either heat or movement, lazy, brandied days of rest and exploration wrapped in a mantle of warm clouds. My shoulders are hunched from a load of hope and regret, but the eyes, even as they show tracings of laughter, are still bright, looking upward, not looking back to the past, seeing the future as an unlimited plain, even one walked with a sidearm.

To the floor falls the photo of an airplane; one with steam gauges and a sweep of wings unchanged since the Cold War.  So many hours in that craft where I did not find the true peace that is God until seven miles above the earth.  There would be days of the sublime sweetness that is a turbine engine's song, as we murmur to it, coaxing it higher with words as delicate as a lover's touch.  Then there are those days where God sends the messengers of our fate to us not in wrath against our presumptive push to heaven or the folly of man's invention but to warn our ignorant hearts that we are sometimes just along for the ride.
That airplane is probably now in the desert.  It's likely mothballed with a warthog and a tomcat or two, the desert air merely passing over it, as it's forgotten with a parting touch as light as an indulgent caress.

Where did the time go?

I look at another photo - of a form laying in the bed in their last days, having lived too long for the fire that's within them, but not nearly long enough. In those last days, we would not talk about that coming Death for it was already with us, interrupting us with its silence, taking up space between us as we attempted to draw close. Death would reveal the color and sound of its truth soon enough, even as we did our best to keep it from hogging the conversation.

On the dresser now - a small but heavy box within which is the weight of love and three cartridges that rang out over a military cemetery.  Each one is an embodiment of the truth that Death has to have the last word.

Where did the time go?
The rain having ceased, I went for a walk, looking slowly and carefully at others who are out enjoying the brief sun between storms.

There are the young teens, wearing unsuitable clothing as some badge of honor, ear buds in, enclosed in a world that includes only them.  Not yet chastened by the sudden discovery of the insignificance of their youth, they fly above anything of weight, and I smile, remembering too well those years, not wishing them back for any amount of gold.

There are the elderly-- wisps of hair made silver by time's brushstroke, eyes crunched and crinkled with much laughter and tears as salty as the sea.  They move with some difficulty as if the earth grabs onto their feet with each step; but they are moving, looking at something ahead that I cannot see.

There is one couple out, about my age, looking worried and stern, unhappy that their knees may hurt, or there's another door ding in the car, moving sad and still  Is it by choice some get this way as we reach middle age, seeing mortality up close, hearing the voices of the dead, wearied by our own thoughts which used to fly with the rapidity and vividness of dreams?
There is another couple, also about my age, as I've seen them as I moved in.  But their age is invisible as they whiz by me on their bicycles, laughing into the wind, daring time to catch up with them. They might have some sore muscles tonight and but there may be whiskey and beer for their horses, shared without regrets.

I might have 50 years left I might have 50 days.  I know how I want to live them.
My youth is behind me, and what is ahead is known only to God himself.  I can go through the day with awareness of that which can't be recaptured or I can snatch with a hand of courage, a moment from the remorseless rush of time.  I can hold in my hand the rescued fragments of life;  holding so tight I can feel the prick of its sharpness drawing a drop of warm blood as I breathe deeply this day. That will be my truth - that uncertain fate that binds us to one another, to the world.

Today is my time.  I will look at the future, and the end that awaits us all, not as a cry, but as a whisper from a great distance, heard not with fear but an encouragement to wrest everything of this day that I can.

Today, I will arrest within the space of a breath that time.

For it is mine.

- LBJ

Richard Strauss op 43 no 2, Muttertändelei

Richard Strauss wrote a series of leider (songs) about various topics. This one is perfect for Mother's Day:
Any proud mama would be charmed by Richard Strauss’s “Muttertändelei” (Mother-chatter) in which a new mom brags about her angelic-looking child, with a disposition to match. Using verse from the 18th-century German poet Gottfried August Burger, Strauss wrote the piece in 1899, two years after his wife Pauline gave birth to their son Franz. Apparently Pauline was so taken with the work she would not lend the manuscript to fellow musicians (see Lot 145).


Happy Mother's Day to anyone who is a mother, or who has one.

Saturday, May 13, 2017

Not "Fake" News

Not at all:


Man, this is top shelf mockery.

(via)

Ancient Rome as viewed from flying drone

This is cool if you, like me, are a history nerd.

George McAnthony - He's Tasting Freedom

You've heard of Spaghetti Westerns, right?  Today is Spaghetti Country & Western.  George McAnthony was an Italian singer/songwriter and two time winner of the European Country Music Association.  His story is one that will be pretty exotic for readers on this side of the Pond.

McAnthony was born in the Italian city of Eppan an der Weinstraße, part of Italy that was annexed from Austria at the end of World War I.  He performed a country music One Man Band, playing seven instruments at the same time.  A songwriter, he recorded 14 albums, and while 3 were recorded in Nashville, he spent most of his time in the Old World.  He wrote today's song while on holiday on the island of Sardinia.

Over on these shores, we almost never hear about what is a thriving country music scene overseas.  McAnthony was a pretty big deal on European radio and TV, and even did a duet with John Denver.  His untimely death in 2011 at the age of 45 is a shame.

The quality of the sound in this video is a little off, but you will get the sense of Country Music's universal themes.



He's Tasting Freedom (Songwriter: George McAnthony)
Drive away on a pick up truck
Mountain trip, don't get stuck
Riding through the wide prairie
He's got so many new things to see
He's tasting freedom, always on the run

He's tasting freedom, can't find his way back home
but sometimes he's lonely,
thinking about his girl back home,
she's all alone
he'll return, his wheels will burn,
one more hill to climb, he'll be back in time

He's tasting freedom, can't find his way back home
but sometimes he's lonely,
thinking about his girl back home,
she's all alone
he'll return, his wheels will burn,
one more hill to climb, he'll be back in time

He sings lei lei la leileilei, like a bird in the sky
lei lei la leileiloo, hello, goodbye, got to go

He's tasting freedom, always on the run
he's tasting freedom, can't find his way back home
Uh yeah, mhm, he's tasting freedom

Friday, May 12, 2017

An open letter to Disney, Inc.

Sir*:

I write to protest the recent decision by your ABC subsidiary to cancel the television comedy Last Man Standing.  As you no doubt are aware, this was your number two comedy show, and trending higher in a bad time slot - over 8 Million views at 8:00 on a Friday evening means that this can only be described as a huge TV hit.

This was the Queen Of The World's and my favorite show.  And you killed it.

But you and I, we are Men** Of The World, are we not?  We both know why you canceled the show. It was a hit, and getting even more popular, and had an explicitly conservative world view.  That made it fresh, and funny.  And it made the contrast with your lame "American Family" (barely) top rated comedy (8.7 Million viewers and fading) even more embarrassing to you, n'est-ce pas***?  Another season, and your PC subtle-as-a-sledgehammer comedy would have been passed by a (gasp) conservative show that explicitly mocked all of that Political Correctness.

And that, as we both know, is why you pulled the plug.  There are viewership Bourgeois ratings - dry viewership figures showing dull facts like the number of viewers that show shareholder return on investment - and there are Revolutionary ratings - anything that advances the cause of your absurd Revolution.

And so I write to tell you that since you've canceled the only show on your network that was worth watching,
there's no longer a reason for us to tune the television to your network.  No doubt this will be a relief to us both.

In future, I should greatly appreciate it if you did not strive to live down to my worst expectations of you: ideological shills toadying to the Political Power Class while burning their shareholder's money in a desperate attempt to command the tides to stop rising.  That laughter you hear is from King Canute****.  You might know him better as "Walt".

Love,

Borepatch

P. S. And we both know that I am joined in my contempt of you and your ridiculous political religion - and your transparent attempt to impose that religion on me - by millions of other registered voters.  The re-elect Trump '20 campaign extends you it's hearty thanks.

* I open with this salutation to annoy the PC loons occupying your executive suite.  Plus, it's good enough for a letter to the (London) Times; stop being so, err, Mickey Mouse.

** ibid (look it up, Goofy).

*** Look it up, Dumbo.

**** As you no doubt recall from the inestimable 1066 And All That, King Canute began as a Bad King, but changed his mind and became a Good King (and thus forgettable).  You seem to have reversed that trajectory.

Thursday, May 11, 2017

A Brigid Guest Post - And a Request of a Prayer for my Dad

Dad and extended family enjoying some down time on his 96th birthday.

The following was something I posted on non-public social media. I didn't post it here, as it promotes my books, something I avoid when guest posting.  But the original story referenced in the article below (with the link in bold) is about my Dad, and today that story is particularly personal as three weeks shy of his 97th birthday, he's in ICU with pneumonia. I talk to him every night at EXACTLY the same time (structure is important to him) and two nights ago he was tired, last night he just had a head cold and this morning, he called 911 before his morning home nurse arrived, his lungs full of fluid.

Read so you understand what a great Dad he is, and then say a prayer for WWII Veteran  Lt. Colonel Harry Allen D.  He and Mom adopted me well into middle age (after adopting another redheaded child, my Big Bro) - he deserves a medal just for that, not just our prayers.
A quick note before I start work. I don't know if any of you here have seen the film "The Father Effect" It premiered on the Global Catholic Television Network back in December and is going viral. By Director John Finch, who lost his Dad to suicide at age 11, it chronicles the effects fathers have on our lives. Not just for men, it also shows the perspective of women who missed their father's influence & love in their lives. The film is here at http://thefathereffect.com/. But why I'm writing - Mr.Finch reached out to me through my publisher when the film came out and asked me to write something original (as opposed to an excerpt from one of my books) for their outreach program "Encouraging Dads" webpage. "Encouraging Dad's" is an outreach from the film with its own website. My story, of my Dad and a special bond we had when my Mom was battling terminal cancer, was published last week.

 http://ow.ly/by4t30baXdI 


Please share to encourage Dads

Train station Boogie Woogie

Someone donated an old piano to St. Pancras train station in London.  The station management put it out in the concourse.  People walk up and play it.  One day a random guy joined in, for a boogie boogie duet.



A couple years later, Elton John donated a new Yamaha piano to the station.  One wonders if Sir Elton say that video and decided to get them a nicer piano.  It works, too.

Great accomplishments of science


LOL.  There's a thoughtful discussion of this over at Judy Curry's place.

Understanding the "Net Neutrality" debate

This is a post with a lot of technical detail about what people say about Net Neutrality that is not true (technically).  It also provides a grounded view of what the discussion should be:
The #1 thing you should know about Net Neutrality is that reasonable people disagree. It doesn't mean they are right, only that they are reasonable. They aren't stupid. They aren't shills for the telcom lobby, or confused by the telcom lobby. Indeed, those opposed to Net Neutrality are the tech experts who know how packets are routed, whereas the supporters tend only to be lawyers, academics, and activists. If you think that the anti-NetNeutrality crowd is unreasonable, then you are in a dangerous filter bubble.
If you want to understand what is being throttled, and why, and how, you should RTWT.

Wednesday, May 10, 2017

Bark in the Park

Wolfgang and his best buddy go to the ball game.



The Frederick Keys are hosting an Adopt-A-Pet event. BYOD(go)

UPDATE 10 May 2017 20:57: Wolfgang and Sully were talking Baseball.  It went sort of like this:
Wolfgang: Hey Sully, who was the greatest Baseball player?
Sully: Rooth. 
Feel free to leave your own captions in the comments.

Even superheroes have mothers.

LOL

Political Earthquake

This is really interesting:
For many decades, millions of people in Britain didn’t just vote Labour. They were Labour. Not a few millions still areLabour and will vote accordingly. But the rise of UKIP, and then the Brexit referendum which UKIP made happen, spoke to an at least equally deep idea of who many Labour voters are, comparable even with being Labour. They are: British, English, not European. (See also: Scotland.)
In retrospect, I think we can see that the rise of UKIP and the subsequent Brexit referendum didn’t just change Britain’s relationship with EUrope. They also changed Britain itself, by creating new allegiances and new connections between hitherto hostile tribesmen, and it weakened many old loyalties and connections and created new tribal divisions. Both the Labour and the Conservative tribes emerged from the UKIP/referendum episode changed. The Conservative tribe emerged stronger and bigger. The Labour tribe emerged weaker and smaller.
There's also a very interesting exploration of what the Labour and Tory political leaders represent to their tribes, and how that is driving this dynamic.

What I find striking is the similarity to what is going on in American politics, the Democrats and Republicans, the shifting tribal allegiances, and the comparison of Hilary Clinton to Donald Trump.  The similarities are striking, and may give some insight into just why so may people seem to have become unhinged about Trump's victory.

The idea that many American democrats voted for Trump because that saw him as being American and Hillary as being in some sense un-American sure would be a basis for losing your moorings.  I've been looking at this from a pretty pure-economics view (i.e. Trump was seen as better for the Rust Belt than Hillary was, at least by Rust Belt voters), but this is far deeper.  If it's true.

A text message from your bank is not secure

I'm a big fan of "Two Factor Authentication" - where in addition to a password you use a second technique to add additional security.  Passwords have been attacked for years and years and Two Factor Authentication (called 2FA) makes a stolen password worthless.  This is a big security win.

Many organizations send an SMS text message to your phone with a short number for you to enter after your password.  It's a really convenient way to give you 2FA.  This has been something that is important for things like online banking.

The problem is that hackers are now sending fake SMS messages:

Financially-motivated hackers are using SS7 attacks to break into bank accounts.

It has finally happened. 
For years, researchers, hackers, and even some politicians have warned about stark vulnerabilities in a mobile data network called SS7. These flaws allow attackers to listen to calls, intercept text messages, and pinpoint a device's location armed with just the target's phone number. Taking advantage of these issues has typically been reserved for governments or surveillance contractors.
But on Wednesday, German newspaper The Süddeutsche Zeitung reported that financially-motivated hackers had used those flaws to help drain bank accounts.
Oh, foo.  There's no authentication for the SS7 signaling, and so there's no authentication for the text message.  If someone has your phone number and can send SS7 into the telephone network, they can send a text message seeming to come from your bank.  More importantly (and this is what seems to have been used here) they can cause the victim's text to go to any old device they want - this is where they steal the codes.

Unfortunately, there's no solution yet.  Watch your bank account closely is about all you can do.

Tuesday, May 9, 2017

Lessons from a RimFire - A Brigid Post

I thought about this in early Spring, when the conceit of winter come on days of false warmth that lure us outside, only to smite the unwary as we have seen time and time again.  I wonder, when people set out on their snowboard, in their truck for that "shortcut", for that trek into the deep forest, do they not sense the shape of disaster that they can not yet see and will not speak of, simply because they think it CAN'T happen or is it a mindset that it can't happen to THEM? I've looked at the news each day this week, to see another report of a missing hiker, a young woman from Chicago who went hiking in the heart of Montana Grizzly country for a day hike, wearing just a hoodie and taking with her a small dog as company.  She's been missing 5 days now.  What tracks they found in snow were overlaid with bear tracks before the trail went cold. Just because the sun is shining doesn't mean there isn't great danger in the wilderness, especially when you are alone, and no one knew the route you were going to take.

I thought of it today, the sun shining but the clouds piling up, a rumble from the West, aware as to the possibility of lightning.  As I pulled in the drive, eager to get the truck under cover due to the chance of hail I watch "The Lightning Rod Family" down the street, don their helmets, kids included and leave their driveway to go riding off towards a horizon the color of a cast iron skillet.

It's easy to judge events and individuals in hindsight as armchair warriors are wont to do.  But there's not one of us here that has not ignored that bit of unease.  Taken that risk. Yet we managed to come home safely through simply chance or excess airspeed, having reached that place where the locomotion of a disinterested world accelerates just before that terminal precipice, only to quietly turn away from the edge.

If we are lucky, we learn.

That is why I'm always surprised when I go to the outdoor range during the winter months and it's totally deserted.

Certainly, I don't want to go with 30 knot gusting winds and a snow squall. But there are a lot of fairly clear days in the winter, where there may be some snow on the ground but the visibility is decent and the wind is manageable. You will have to dress for it, but then again, I rarely get hot brass down the front of my Nanook of the North Arctic Weight parka.

Perhaps it's just the way I look at things. Shooting as not just recreation, a sport to hone the skills of hand and mind, or to hunt, but as a survival tool.

There are always excuses as to why not train to proficiency. Money, time, family, weather. Some are valid, many are not. You don't have to necessarily practice with the heavy iron. I regularly shoot with a favorite little Ruger rimfire pistol to improve my skills, stance and sight picture. I could shoot a whole ammo can of .22 for the cost of two or three boxes of .good quality 45 (assuming I can find some).

I love the Ruger .22. It's easy to load and use. After I'd fired a few boxes through it,  it didn't misfeed. I can shoot it all day for the cost of an hour with something else. Yet it's often overlooked in the great mall ninja discussions of 9 mm, .40 and .45 loads, relegated to the kiddie table in the kitchen at gatherings of gunnies. Don't think that way.

Is it what I carry for self defense?  No.  But .22 is more than a way to gently introduce someone to shooting, and it's a great way to keep your own defense skills honed when, due to ammo cost or availability, you might otherwise let them slide. Think .22 rimfire will be too easy? Try setting out some targets at 30-50 yards with a crosswind, and your hands freezing cold (no gloves). See how well you do. See how much you learn about ballistics and windage. Not everyone who wants to harm you is going to stand still, 15 feet away wearing a T-shirt with a circle on it, waiting until your warm hand can pull the trigger.


Certainly, you want to be familiar with the operation and controls of any firearm you carry for self-defense but it's not necessarily about the weapon, it's about YOU, and how you react to threat. It's what you can do, and how fast you can do it, when danger stirs, not yet more than a whisper in the air, a rumor, like thunder in a late afternoon, striking before you expect it.

One of my favorite books is called Deep Survival by author Laurence Gonzales, which is a scientific look at the human factors of survival. Why does someone with just a certain mindset walk out of a situation, where someone else, better equipped and more physical fit, sits down to wait and dies. I read through it like I'd been waiting for it for years, and it explained much of what I've seen in my life and work. It tells stories anyone would understand and I've given copies of it to friends and family. It not only educated me, but it confirmed the way I looked at the world.

I grew up in the mountains, learning early on that the wilderness is ill-suited for the unprepared. Especially at the higher altitudes. At noon you may see just a few white puffs of cloud, smoke signals to those down below that says, come on up and visit. But they hide in that sweet invite to the unwary, unprovoked bursts of violence. For afternoon storms can suddenly build and sweep, fierce air masses that rise and fall in thundering downdrafts, winds forming into sinews of air, thunderstorms looming in shadow, like the spires of an old hall of Justice. You don't' want to be out in the open when one of those hits.


Moving at night is even more treacherous. Even though the moon may light your path, there in the vast darkness fly great birds in the forms of evening storms and winds that deceive. Night predators looking for the small, the weak, ebony wings beating the air, their cry a clap of thunder as they sought their prey, the careless. One misstep as the wind causes you to close your eyes for just a moment, and you may be sent home on a stretcher, or in a box.

Yet the wilderness will always continue its siren call for those that have learned that in traversing its peaks you will pass beyond the borders of the real world into a realm so quietly elemental that it seems otherworldly. There is nothing quite like setting up a small base camp in the mountains, sitting in the dark with a mug of tea while points of lightning struck in the distance, cleaving the atmosphere, separating water and air, pointing out this life of separateness I lead. A journey of shadow and dew, of dreams of light that sparks more than the night, but something within us. It beckons to both the experienced and the naive, as we head outdoors and up, abandoning the drudgery of the cities, repudiating civilizations reaching fingers, as we ascend into a lovers smile of radiant light, flirting with nature.

It's hard to resist. The night's quiet freedom around a campfire, the day's flaws hidden in the ebony of velvet night. Waking up to a new day of exploration. The high mountain air was a substance whose ethereal beauty so entranced me that on those long hikes alone, I had to remind myself to check my bearings and the time, as I knew that getting lost out there might be deadly.


For when your soul is entranced it is easy to go down a path you otherwise would not have, sometimes with consequences you never foresee. It doesn't have to be the woods or the desert, it can be a job, it can be the desire for a possession, it can be a relationship, those directions we take with the best of intentions that lead to a path overgrown with dark roots, sunk deep, that grab at your ankles as you try and decide which way to go to save yourself, with nothing to guide you but the unrelenting earth, discomposing and harsh.

It can happen to the most experienced of people. The trail disappears, the sky goes dark with a sudden turn in the weather, clouding familiar landmarks. You set out with the best of intentions when the small frayed tether between you and civilization is broken. Even in familiar territory, it can happen. The Boy Scouts say "be prepared" for a reason. If you can't take some minor preparations to provide for and protect yourself if something unexpected happens, you need to stay home. Being "lost" may not kill you, but being without shelter, food, and needed medical attention will.


Prepare for change, especially the weather. The weather now may not be the weather in 8 hours. Look at the forecast. In the wilderness, trust the weather forecast in the summer like you would a politician.  Trust the weather forecast in the winter like that "looking for the love of my life" guy on Match.com with the wedding ring, hook for a right hand and eye patch.

Wear clothing in layers, peel them off as the temperature dictates, but you'll have them if you need them. Resist the urge to not take something worthy of "overnight warmth" because you're not planning on being out all night. The wild notwithstanding, don't travel with a light or no jacket in the winter just because you're going from your sheltered parking garage to directly into your garage at home.  A few years back a few motorists in Colorado died for that very reason.

Carry a compass, they're small and take little space. Always have matches and a lighter. Keep them dry. I took a course in survival where we were given a scenario that we'd been in a helicopter crash (bad weather, mountains) and had only a dozen items available from the crash scene. We had to rank them in order of their use. The match/lighter was my first pick. If you get hypothermia, the map, aspirin, Spam and string won't help, but they'll have their uses.

Shelter, warmth, water. You can get by for a surprisingly long time with just those. Always bring more water than you think you will drink and drink what you need to stay hydrated. Refill the bottle(s) if able. Don't consume snow, it takes away body heat and may cause internal cold injuries. Take a small metal cup or tin to melt snow for drinking by your fire. When ice is available, melt it before snow. A cup of ice yields more water than a cup of snow.

Keep to a trail. Without tools or experience, straying from a trail far away from civilization is about as smart as getting the Quiki Mart sushi. Just as you can drown in an inch of water, the novice can get lost in only 5 minutes of off trail "exploration" when they suddenly find mother nature is not as cuddly as they expected

If you don't want to post your schedule at a ranger station, tell a neighbor, family or a friend where you are going and when you will be back. A simple phone call you can keep a short outing from being permanent.

Carry a whistle, the sound will carry if someone is looking for you. But remember, it won't work on a rapist in the woods any better than it will work on one in a  deserted parking lot at 2 a.m. Pack a small flashlight or take a headlamp and always extra bulbs/batteries for light or a signal. A knife is a must, no matter how short of a trip, even a small one or Swiss Army style, is better than nothing.  Good quality blades don't have to cost an arm and a leg.
If signaling for help, select a site close to your shelter such as a clearing, shoreline or hilltop, where visibility is good. A search will probably start from your last known location and sweep over your proposed route. During the day, you could also use a signal mirror, your belt buckle, any shiny device can work. If you are using a fire to signal, and not just for warmth, build three fires in a triangle or in a straight line about 100 feet apart. Three fires is a recognized distress signal. Stay put if you know others will be aware you are missing and in what general area. Have a bright piece of clothing to wear or use as a signal, bright colors show up well against the snow.

As for shelter, you'd be surprised what you can do with just a poncho and a few bungee cords. Lacking that, there is a whole forest full of building material provided you start before dark.  Sticks, logs, stones, leaves and even moss. Build against another object, like a felled tree, rock face, etc., creating a sturdy base with movable stones or logs. Insulate all but one peephole with moss, leaves, mud or snow to retain and hold in the heat from your own body.

If dark is fast approaching, look for natural shelters, such as the large spreading roots of a tree, the hollow on the leeward side of a log or fallen boughs that are sturdy or can be lashed together to reinforce them. Branches can form a lean-to or extra cover, leaves on top can help shed rain. If you have no time for even this, seek shelter in a ditch or behind something, out of the wind. bedding down on dry materials to keep the ground from sapping your heat (aren't you glad you brought your coat and hat? )
Few people think about survival, beyond having money for cable. They don't think about a peek at the updated weather when they're only driving 40 miles. They don't think "I should have gone to the range more" until they hear the crack of wood as the front door of their home is broken down. Look at the victims of violence who, by force or choice, remained defenseless, or stand on the side of the mountain and gaze at a young couple dead, not from the accident, which was survivable, but from simply not having warm clothing or survival gear because it was just a day trip. Both scenes will equally haunt your sleep.

I don't spend my day in fear's blind crush, that breath-stealing conviction that things are always going to be worse. But I am prepared for the transgressions against my safety for which the only penance may be the discharge of lead. For I'm well aware that on any given day, there is no guarantee that when we breathe out we're going to breathe back in again.

I like to lay the odds in my favor, which is why, in addition to knowing basic outdoor survival, I know the basics of survival in small country town or big city.


I carry a firearm. I also carry the mindset that I can use it, and I will use it, without hesitation or fear, if necessary to protect my life.

Mindset is everything. Anxiousness can be replaced by calm, and even when a challenging situation occurs, often fluid as nature, there's usually a way around it, if you keep your head. If you can keep calm, you have more options, ones that can keep you safe and renew your faith. Not a blind faith that all will be well, that feeling has been the death of more than one intrepid weekend warrior, but the faith that gives us the courage to venture onward, to fight back. You will have the blessed understanding that although nothing is fixed, as long as you are breathing and have a few basic tools that you know how to use, you can survive more than you know.

Whether I am in the woods or walking alone across a dark parking lot, my gun is beside me, tangible and honest and real. Like all the tools I use, if I care for it and treat it right, it will not fail me; it's an affirmation of trust in a web of iron and wood. The slap of my gun against my hip as I stride deeper away into the trees or across fields of pavement is a constant, like the sound of a beating heart to a baby, comfort in the dark.

Some say we are safe in our nation's parks, just as they say we should be safe in small town America. Despite the country setting, and red white and blue speckled mailboxes, there is no truly safe place anymore, especially for a woman. Though there are certainly more crimes where more people live or where the the law-abiding are disarmed, the heart of evil roams equally at will through asphalt and country roads. Predators are among us, watching from a line at the corner market, waiting in the darkness of a rural parking lot or that untraveled, unbeaten path. Waiting for that sign, that manner, that tells them that you are un-toothed and un-fanged, a soft and vulnerable target.


When the day is done, I stop and set up camp for the night; with darkness coming down, I know it's not safe to continue. I might be in a tent in the wilderness. I might be alone in a small home, readying a fire to keep me warm. I ready my safety, and set my fire, looking down at the cord of muscle in my hands, strong yet delicate, holding the match, precious source of warmth, buried deep in my jacket. That one-inch piece of sulfur tipped wood will last longer than memory or grief, its flame, so tiny, one bright flash in the darkness, is fiercer than bravery or regret. I have my tools. I have courage and will. I have found my own means of deep survival. It is within me, where it was all along.

Headlines, redux


Why there are security bugs

This example says everything you need to know:
Miscreants can turn the tables on Microsoft and use its own antivirus engine against Windows users – by abusing it to install malware on vulnerable machines. 
A particularly nasty security flaw exists in Redmond's anti-malware software, which is packaged and marketed in various forms: Windows Defender, Windows Intune Endpoint Protection, Microsoft Security Essentials, Microsoft System Center Endpoint Protection, Microsoft Forefront Security for SharePoint, Microsoft Endpoint Protection, and Microsoft Forefront Endpoint Protection. All are, at this moment, at risk. It is switched on by default in Windows 8, 8.1, 10, and Windows Server 2012. 
It is possible for hackers to craft files that are booby-trapped with malicious code, and this nasty payload is executed inadvertently and automatically by the scanner while inspecting the data. The injected code runs with administrative privileges, allowing it to gain full control of the system, install spyware, steal files, and so on.
I post this not to slam Microsoft, who has done a pretty good job making their security better.  It's to point out that even people who write security software mess up.  Consider:

  1. The Microsoft team certainly understands the need for security.  After all, they're creating a security product.
  2. The Microsoft team certainly knows how to code securely.  After all, they're creating a security product.
  3. Microsoft has a very strong vested interest in making sure that this sort of thing doesn't happen.
And it still happened.  That tells you everything you need to know about whether we will ever be free from security bugs.

And so, what's the defense?  Well, a quick response is what you want.  While there's no patch for this, expect one PDQ.  Microsoft does pretty well in that.

My take is that this is a major gap in "Internet Of Things" security - not only do they not understand the need for security or how to do it, not only do most IoT vendors not seem to care about security and market perceptions, but almost none have a way to update software to patch security bugs.  

Monday, May 8, 2017

Headlines

Sometimes they write themselves.