-Caveat Lector-
from:
http://www.aci.net/kalliste/
<A HREF="http://www.aci.net/kalliste/">The Home Page of J. Orlin Grabbe</A>
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Fin-de-siecle
Furbies in Mass Suicide Pact
Can the Antichrist be far behind?
A RADIO presenter is being accused of Furby mass murder after triggering
what appears to be a suicide pact among the furry cyber toys.
Ocean FM, a Hampshire-based radio station, was inundated with calls from
listeners complaining that their Furbies had "died" after taking part in
an on-air experiment conducted by a disc jockey, Spencer Kelly.
He had asked listeners to put their Furbies next to the radio to see if
they could communicate over the airwaves with, Lulu, his girlfriend's
Furby in the studio. But within minutes Furbies across southern England
seized up and "died".
Emily Adams, eight, was listening with her Furby, Coco, when it started
making a "funny noise" and stopped. Coco was rushed to a toy shop but
all efforts to revive it failed. "I was upset," she said. "Coco and I
really liked each other."
Meanwhile, Kelly's claim that he is "an innocent man caught up in a
strange kind of Furby suicide pact" appeared to be gaining credibility
after a US station repeated the experiment with similar results.
In Rhode Island, two Furbies "died" on-air during the Mike Butts Morning
Show on 92 Pro FM.
Ruth Hale, the producer, said: "It was very strange. They were chatting
away then suddenly went dead. Personally I'd love to try this on a
national broadcast. I think they're the most annoying things in the
world."
Despite the commercial attractions of a self-destructing toy, the
manufacturers, Tiger Electronics, denied that Furbies had been designed
to commit suicide.
A spokesman for the Illinois-based company said: "It all sounds so
bizarre. Furbies communicate with each other using infra-red, so can
only do so face-to-face.
"We're very excited that people have taken such an interest in Furbies,
but perhaps their imagination is running away from them."
The London Telegraph, Jan. 20, 1999
Impeached POTUS
The Altered State of the Union
The White House says President Clinton won't mention his impeachment
trial in tonight's State of the Union address, which only makes sense.
The President who didn't commit perjury, didn't have sex and was never
alone with Monica Lewinsky can't be expected to engage the main issue
preoccupying the American government.
Mr. Clinton's speech is best understood, in short, as an act completely
detached from political or other reality. Far beyond the President's
famous ability to "compartmentalize," tonight's address will reveal a
man who survives by creating his own alternative world of fact and
truth. As he put it last week, the second Senate impeachment trial in
U.S. history is "their job," as if Bob Dole was the fellow in the dock.
So an impeached President in his seventh year plans to propose an agenda
that his staff spins without irony as "more appropriate to a first-year
president." The same President accused of lying repeatedly, to the
nation and under oath, will ask the nation to trust him to "save" Social
Security. And most unreal of all, the Senators who took a special oath
to fairly judge his alleged "high crimes and misdemeanors" are supposed
to cheer and applaud him as they would in some normal Presidency.
Of course, a normal President--a Harry Truman--would never deliver such
a speech. He would be too embarrassed, or too respectful of his office,
to ask Congress to listen to his promises before his impeachment was
cleared away. He would first want his honor back. But Bill Clinton, we
should know by now, is unburdened by these normal restraints and so
invites us all to endorse his Presidential fantasy life.
Thus Mr. Clinton will propose new government solutions to the problems
that began to be solved when voters abandoned government solutions.
He'll take credit for an economy that has boomed more or less since
Washington decided to leave it alone; for a reduction in welfare rolls
that accelerated when the federal entitlement was lifted over his
initial opposition; and for a fall in the rate of crime that began when
enough citizens voted for more cops and prison time.
The President will also once again take credit for adopting policies
that repudiate his old ones. This year's example is $7 billion in extra
defense spending, which is supposed to make up for six years of defense
spending cuts. He'll throw a few billion dollars at anti-missile
defenses, though he recently revised a treaty with Russia that makes
such defenses all but useless.
Mr. Clinton's Altered State of the Union will also include the usual
poll-tested giveaways--notably, more tax breaks than H&R Block, in order
to prevent a Republican across-the-board tax cut. This policy is best
understood as the political version of the Publisher's Clearinghouse
Sweepstakes. Mr. Clinton tells voters that YOU MAY HAVE ALREADY WON, but
the fine print reveals that to qualify you must be a suburban soccer mom
with kids under 13 or a disabled parent who makes less than $75,000 a
year and commutes to work through an approved "livable space" and in a
car that Al Gore doesn't think uses too much energy. The First Lady
should have Ed McMahon as her gallery guest.
Lest we seem too glib, we would certainly welcome an honest Clinton
proposal to reform Medicare and Social Security before he leaves town. A
sincere Democratic President would be able to offer a GOP Congress the
political cover to do something meaningful. Mr. Clinton understands the
problem: He'll speak tonight about the challenge of our aging
population.
But we're also told his only Medicare proposal will be a repeat of last
year's idea to let even younger Americans buy into that bleeding
program. So let's see: The solution to a federal entitlement that is
breaking under the weight of an aging country is to expand the
entitlement to even younger retirees! Mr. Clinton also wants us to
forget his Mediscare re-election rhetoric of 1996.
In sum, tonight's speech may be the culmination of a Presidency defined
by the suspension of disbelief. Bill Clinton has spent six years telling
us that what we saw with our own eyes wasn't true. Now he wants the
world to believe that he's devoting long hours to the details of health
care while ignoring his own impeachment. That is, he is asking us to
believe yet another lie.
Wall Street Journal, January 19, 1999
Computer Penetration
The Cryptology of Sex
May I play with your secret key?
Bill: The NSA is keeping track of me?
Becky: All the time -- you, Dorothy Gail, Eric and Derek -- all the
important cypherpunks. You're on their shit list because you develop
cryptography they can't track. They monitor everything you do or say.
Sounds like hardcore geek speak, but it's the dialogue from a new porno
movie, called Cryptic Seduction.
There are more connections between sex and data protection than one
might imagine, said filmmaker Randy French.
"Why porno and cypherpunks? No particular reason, other than I wanted to
do an adult film and I am a cypherpunk," said French, who uses a
pseudonym. "Of course, free speech is the flip side of the privacy coin.
Cypherpunks support both issues."
Cypherpunks are a loosely organized group of privacy advocates,
libertarian stalwarts, and encryption developers made famous for
supporting strong code to safeguard one's personal data on the Net.
"There's a strong libertarian streak among the cypherpunk movement,"
said Mike Godwin, staff counsel at the Electronic Frontier Foundation.
"It's not surprising they are very supportive of people's right to make
pornography. There are a lot of convergences."
The movie's protagonist is a fictitious cypherpunk named Bill Dylan
played by Mike Horner, a 21-year veteran of the porn industry who is
also the movie's director.
The bad guys are the feds -- in this case, the National Security Agency,
or NSA -- who are constantly spying on Dylan and his fellow cypherpunks.
As the story goes, Dylan has invented a powerful quantum computing chip
nicknamed Desdaemona.
"There are computer scientists who believe that a quantum computer could
make public key encryption obsolete, because it would allow for the
almost instantaneous factoring of large numbers," French explained.
The NSA wants to get the chip without causing a public stir. So they
send Jo -- a female operative played by porno actress TJ Hart -- to
seduce the cypherpunks.
Cryptic Seduction is one computer-room scene away from completion,
according to Horner. So far, it has cost $30,000 to make and taken three
full days of shooting.
The project had the financial backing of cypherpunk investors, according
to French, who says he has been an active cypherpunk for five years and
has written for Wired and Mondo 2000.
The film includes porno staples like girl-on-girl love scenes, oral and
anal sex, and sex clubs. It also features cameo appearances and
production assistance from half a dozen real-life cypherpunks.
Insider references abound: Several characters in the movie wear black
hats, which French said refers to the broad-brimmed black hats worn by
many Bay Area cypherpunks.
In one club scene, a lap dancer played by porn actress Rosy Rocket
recognizes Dylan at a club. She tells him she's going to "suck his
secret key out of him."
The secret key is a reference to public key cryptography, a hot
cypherpunk issue. The US government wants a copy of a code's key so that
law enforcement can recover coded information. Cypherpunks want to keep
their data private.
The characters also mention "Darned Good Privacy" software, a spoof of
Phil Zimmermann's free "Pretty Good Privacy" encryption software that
lets two people send email with high security. French said he's spoken
with Zimmermann, who was amused by the movie's concept. But Zimmermann
did not return phone calls for this article.
The name "Desdaemona" is another inside joke about DES, or Digital
Encryption Standard (DES), the federal standard software algorithm. A
message encoded with DES was decoded in less than three days by the EFF
last July. Cypherpunks call for stronger encryption than DES. Desdaemona
also includes the word "daemon," a UNIX program that executes in the
background.
French said that certain characters are based on real life cypherpunks,
including Eric and Derek, who are based on a mixture of cypherpunks
co-founder Eric Hughes and Ian Goldberg, chief scientist and head
cypherpunk at Zero Knowledge Systems, a Canadian-based software company.
Another real cypherpunk has a bit part as a Japanese businessman who
shoos away a lapdancer in favor of surfing the Web on his laptop in a
club. "He has a Ricochet wireless modem," said French. "While the sex
was going on he was actually online."
Some cypherpunks say that Randy French's alter ego is Sandy Sandfort, a
cypherpunk member. French also says that the real Hughes makes a cameo
appearance in a club scene at the WWW (World Wide Women) club. Neither
Hughes nor Sandfort would comment for this article.
Horner hopes the movie will air on an outlet like the adult Spice
Channel, his former employer.
And of course, the film will soon have its own Web site at
www.crypticseduction.com, French said.
"I think the idea of a cypherpunk porn movie is amusing, but I haven't
seen the movie (or any of the filming)," wrote John Gilmore, also a
cypherpunks founder and cofounder of the Electronic Frontier Foundation,
in an email. "It's got to be better (for geeks) than the plot of the
average porn movie!"
Wired News, Jan. 19, 1999
Impeached POTUS
Split Screen: Clinton and OJ
"I need to get back to playing football for the American people."
IMAGINE: after a week of sequestration, the OJ jury enjoyed a welcome
break from their deliberations. Along with the District Attorney's
prosecution team, they strolled over to the football stadium across from
the courthouse to watch the defendant play in the Super Bowl. "I need to
get back to playing football for the American people," said Mr Simpson,
wagging his finger. "It's time to put an end to the politics of personal
destruction."
As OJ donned his old helmet and scored the first of several dazzling
touchdowns, jurors and prosecutors alike cheered deliriously. "I'm
cheering the office not the man," explained one juror. "I'm here out of
respect for the majesty and dignity of his helmet and shoulder pads." As
Marcia Clark added: "There's no conflict between my roles as lead
prosecutor and head cheerleader. Yes, we have our differences over this
double homicide, but that doesn't diminish the respect due to him as a
supporting actor in Naked Gun 2.5."
Two years ago, Bill Clinton's State of the Union address had to share a
split television screen with the final moments of the OJ civil trial.
Yesterday, the President took no chances and split his own screen: over
in the House, an unprecedented address; back in the Senate trial, an
undressed President. Mr Clinton is a famous "compartmentaliser", not
least on those occasions when he was on the 'phone to Congressmen
discussing troop deployments to Bosnia while deploying Monica under the
desk: above the waist, the Commander-in-Chief on company time; below,
the Philanderer-in-Briefs on, ah, face time. But today the Great
Compartmentaliser has made compartmentalisers of the entire American
political system: Republican senators proclaim that, like the President,
they can readily distinguish between "the people's business" and the
impeachment trial. "I have no problem separating the office from the
man," Senator Phil Gramm tells me. No, indeed. Mr Gramm's problem is
separating the man from his office.
Yesterday, sadly, many of the President's starriest supporters were
unable to attend the State of the Union. Take, for example, Ol' Dirty
Bastard. That's not an affectionate nickname for Bill Clinton but the
formal appellation of a distinguished gangsta rapper. Ol' Dirty Bastard
has been steadfast in his support of Ol' Dirty President.
"They should leave the man alone," he said. "He's doing a good job
running the country and there's nothing wrong with him having a little
fun." Like Mr Clinton, Mr Bastard has long been hounded by fanatical
enemies: in 1994, he was shot in the stomach by rival rappers,
presumably even dirtier bastards. Like the President, he has his
spiritual side: in 1998, having spent years under a burdensome moniker
(if you'll forgive the expression), he changed his name from Ol' Dirty
Bastard to Big Baby Jesus. Unfortunately, cruising down New York's Dean
Street on Friday night, Mr Bastard had his Chevy Tahoe pulled over by
the NYPD for driving erratically and without headlights. So he rolled
down the window, opened fire on the cops and hit the gas pedal.
"The Republicans," one Democrat staffer said to me, "are hung up on this
'rule of law' fetish. I mean, are they gonna impeach Presidents for
traffic violations?" But, as Ol' Dirty reminds us, there are traffic
violations and traffic violations. To date, the presidential defenders'
strategy for his constitutional "traffic violation" has been the same as
Mr Bastard's: shoot first and ask questions later. Paula Jones? Trailer
trash (according to James Carville). Monica? A stalker (according to Sid
Blumenthal). Henry Hyde? "Stone him to death!" (Alec Baldwin). But, in
the congenitally collegiate Senate, the President is short of Dirty
Bastards. So yesterday the Clinton legal team came up with the next best
thing: Representative John Conyers.
Congressman Conyers is the senior Democrat on the House Judiciary
Committee, in which capacity he has advanced the complex legal argument
that the Republicans are "clinical psychopaths". I wouldn't want to make
Mr Conyers sound charismatic: his droning monotone is at least as
tedious as any on the GOP side. But he is African-American and his
addition to the Senate defence team adds, as CNN noted approvingly, "a
certain amount of diversity". This has become the latest refrain on the
Clinton side.
In Burlington, Vermont, the other day, a young black defendant demanded
that the judge declare a mistrial because the jury was all-white: he
could only get a fair trial from an all-black jury. This presents
certain practical difficulties in the whitest state in the Union: there
are only seven blacks in Vermont (I counted) and, to judge from Channel
3 News, five of them are already behind bars. But, in fairness to the
defendant, the guy is black. The Clinton line is harder to figure. "Look
at those Republican managers," a Senate aide scoffs. "They're all white
males."
"Yes, but the President's a white male," I say. "So's your Senator. So
are you."
"What's your point?" he says. "You're not telling me this prosecution
team looks like America?"
In the two years since their joint State of the Union appearance, the
remorseless OJ-fication of Bill Clinton has passed way beyond metaphor:
so, as Clinton attorney Charles Ruff insists on the evidence that black
is white, his other defenders insist that the President, a Caucasian, is
actually an African-American.
With hindsight, Mr Clinton, DNA notwithstanding, should have claimed
that Arkansas love-child as his own. For who can doubt that Mr Conyers,
Congresswoman Maxine "Mad Max" Waters, the Rev Jesse Jackson et al would
instantly have hailed his retrospective miscegenation: a puffy white
deadbeat dad, a black hooker, a dysfunctional teen on welfare - at last!
a First Family that looks like America!
The London Telegraph, Jan. 20, 1999
-----
Aloha, He'Ping,
Om, Shalom, Salaam.
Em Hotep, Peace Be,
Omnia Bona Bonis,
All My Relations.
Adieu, Adios, Aloha.
Amen.
Roads End
Kris
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