Wickliffe Mayor Thomas W. Ruffner announced Friday that hackers had breached security in one of the city’s three computer servers, which held personal information on some city employees.
I had found this linked to on Attrition.org after reading http://attrition.org/postal/z/033/0871.html.
It’s always nice to see your hometown in the news, but you’d rather see it be something other than “Oops, we were hacked and exposed some of our employees to possible identity theft.”
A stray click led the Bowling Green, Ohio, Police Department to publish the wrong report to the agency’s police blotter Web site on Oct. 21, according to operations Lt. Brad Biller. Instead of posting a sanitized blotter, with all the personal information redacted, the agency published what is known as an “end of day report.”
I found this on the same page that I found about about the previous post about servers in Wickliffe being hacked. Sure, it’s almost two months old, but I somehow missed this before.
So, I came across Kingdom of Loathing this weekend. I started playing last night and found it to be entertaining. The graphics may not be that great, but it’s fun to play.
While exploring Loathing, I came across the Altar of Literacy. I was laughing as I was reading this. The Policies of Loathing are straight forward and obviously not written in legalese. After all…
The Kingdom of Loathing is not a place that would ever be accused of taking itself too seriously. Nevertheless, there comes a time in the lifespan of every community that doesn’t actively discriminate against 12-year-olds at which some rules must be established. 99.9% of you will never butt heads with any of these rules, but you will almost assuredly butt heads with the .1% who will. And so, Mr. Non-Jackass Kingdom of Loathing Player, these policies are for you.
Seriously though, for a website that is a humorous role-playing game, it has a system for accessing chat that a lot of people would have issues with completing. Quite often I see incorrect usage of the forms of there, their, and they’re. (Especially when a certain organization sucks because “their taking all of the bandwith away from students”.) Or what about using your or you’re? Then there’s the basic reading comprehension at the end.
This all being said to you by the ghost of the English language is a nice touch. Did you you know that the English language is buried in the cemetery in the middle of BGSU? It’s true, the tombstone looks like the one on the left.
Once you finish the “test”, you are presented with a message:
The ghost of the English language looks up at you.”You have already proven yourself literate! Go forth, then, and avenge my death!”
Rumor has it that the Gamers Lounge in Bowling Green is going away. Make that two less places for gaming in BG in the last month.
This story is not for the weak of heart.
I sit at my computer desk as a fluorescent lamp hums, casting it’s white light downward. Directly in front of me sits my on ally-enemy, the iPod.
“So iPod, we meet again. Do you have one choice to make here: do you want to work and play music?”
The iPod, thinking I’m hungry, shows me an apple. “Click. Click. Click.” The iPod pretends to play dead.
“Nice try iPod, but I know that you were playing music the other day in the office just fine. But once we got to the car, you thought you could just choose not to do so.”
The iPod shows me a folder and an exclamation mark.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You just stopped working because you “didn’t want to” anymore. You know what happens when you try to play stupid with me. You get hit. You don’t want to get hit again, do you?”
Not wanting to be hit again, the iPod shows me a picture of a sad iPod.
“No, it’s too late for you to feel regret for your actions. Last night you started working but “forgot” my songs and playlists. This morning, when I went to go put songs on you, you had no idea what I was talking about. Well, I’m tired of dealing with these issues. It’s time to show you I mean business.” I reach for the iPod, placing it LCD down on the desktop.
“Click! Click! Click!”
“No, this is the way it must be.” I grab a fine-tipped flat-head screw driver and begin prying the back of the iPod off.
“Scratch! Snap! Snap!”
“It’s for your own good, iPod! This hurts you as much as it hurts me for doing it!” Eventually I pry the metal backing off the iPod.
“Click…click…click…”
“It’ll be over soon.” I tap the hard drive a couple times. “Remember. Damn you, remember!”
“Playlists. Rock List. On-The-Go.”
“Yes, that’s right iPod. Now, what’s in Rock List?”
“1000 Yard Stare. 11:59. 45. Above. Alien. All…”
“Stop. That’s good enough. Play 1000 Yard Stare.”
“The hidden - undiscovered, It was the last stone to be turned, A needle scratched the surface, I don’t know where it’s gonna go…”
“Correct. Let’s get you fixed up here.” I place a small piece of folded paper; folded enough times to act like a folded business card.
“Pop! Snap! Pop!”
“Ok, you can rest.” I dock the iPod and Windows XP and iTunes come to check on iPod to see how it’s doing. I leave them all alone and head to kitchen, where I quickly down some Victory Gin. “God, sometimes I hate the things I must do. But it was for the best.”
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