Category: Rant

SiteLock Scam

Matera the Mad

My website was originally hosted on a server that became a habitation of script kiddies. I moved it to a better place. That host was later taken over by A Small Orange (a.k.a. SHITHOST, beware!). Since they offered it, I thought it might be nice to have my site scanned for malcrap, so I stupidly, naively, signed up for SiteLock. Well, ASO was at least not easily infestable, so I didn’t renew the subscription and just kind of forgot about SiteSchlock.

Eight years and a better webhost later, out of the blue I start getting scan reports from SitePox! WTF, I think. The emails are legit, but I never asked for this. My current webhost is not affiliated with ShitCock, thank goodness; there just isn’t any connection.

So I dug up my old SL login info (NEVER get rid of old logins, just keep the shit encrypted!) and lo! I was able to log in to my old, useless account. Only to find that they take no responsibility for the unauthorized subscription, passing the buck to me and whatever unknown agent initiated the sub.

I have told them over and over that I am not responsible for it nor is my current webhost. I word it differently each time. I ask them over and over and over to delete my account. They keep sending back the same boilerplate bullshit.

The cream of the jest is, I’m not paying for it! ShiteCock doesn’t have my current payment infos – things have changed a lot, including my bank! – and, obviously, neither does the perpetrator. No money has been transferred from my bank account. So who benefits? What’s the point of the scam?

I can’t cancel the sub, but I have changed the site contact info in my ShitePox profile so that the stupid reports go to a blackhole email account, and other details point to – well, somebody somewhere else.

Meanwhile, I continue to plague them the best I can with account deletion requests while making their name stink every way I can. They have the worst excuse for customer service I’ve ever run up against. I also wonder about how closely they are tied to the scammer, and how good their security is if just anyone can initiate a subscription in my name.

Stay away from SiteLock! They’re a tarpit, and they don’t give a shit about their cash cows. It’s impossible to change a lot of personal info on their goddamn site, too, so if all your deets are up to date, you could end up paying for a sub you didn’t want. I’m just lucky that all my payment info has changed, or I probably would be getting skrewt good.

This site is squeaky clean, BTW.

Hillbilly Smellogy

Matera the Mad

Elegy: a mournful poem; a lament for the dead

As in, “Who died and made you spokesperson?”

Hillbilly Elegy is not a poem, mournful or otherwise. It is a lament of sorts, and it is lamentable. Nevertheless, I read it.

As writing goes, I’ve experienced worse. There are far fewer notable grammar and punctuation cringe-points than I might have expected. Word misuse and abuse crop up here and there, but the WTFs are bearably sparse. Reader abuse, however, permeates it. We can’t get no satisfaction. It has been said (by Benvenuto Cellini, bless the old sinner) that no one should attempt an autobiography until they are over forty. This book could be held up as proof.

As a narrative, a life story, it lacks bottom. It rambles and staggers and repeats. Chapter after chapter of Mamaw and the rest of the dysfunctional family – a motley bunch of confusable and mostly forgettable characters lacking in essential detail.

Now and then JD mentions having friends. He seldom names them, and they hardly ever appear “on stage” in any role. We know almost nothing about them. One supposes that people outside his miserable family influenced him, but all we get is scraps. It’s All About JD. His lack of empathy is all over the place.

And then it’s All About How JD Sees The World. A narrow, shallow, oversimplified, overgeneralized world. A large swath of territory rich in cultural variety and heritage painted over with a monochrome brush.

You keep reading, and reading, hoping for a bit of real meat, a little depth, some feeling, food for thought. What you get is something like a ten-course dinner of Girl Scout Cookies.

Read Patrick Stewat’s Making It So – you will come away with vivid memories of people and places and events that will make you want to go back for seconds. Arnold Schwarzenegger, in Be Useful, doesn’t dwell on constant negativity; he inspires the reader to do better and make the world a better place. JD Vance just says oh it’s so awful.

Dolly Parton grew up in a hard place.
“Inspired by her father’s inability to read and write Dolly started her Imagination Library in 1995 for the children within her home county. Today, her program spans five countries and gifts over 2 million free books each month to children around the world.”
– https://dollyparton.com/

What has JD done for “his” people?
Insulted them in a self-serving memoir.
Joined the Billionaires’ Club, so he can help them milk the poor.
Lied. A lot.

I can applaud his honesty in revealing what a horrific family life he had. I can understand how it scarred him. That shit never really goes away. What I can’t understand is why, living in a modern world of communications media and libraries, he couldn’t get his head a little above it (if he’s such a cool person as he thinks he is). I can understand his discomfort among the hoity-toity Yale crowd. But again, he skims over so much potential human interest, dismissing his few supposedly close law school friends with capsule descriptions that are little more than clumps of cliched labels.

WTF, he can talk about family rows that would shame a skunk. Is he ashamed to talk about his friends who helped him get out of that hole? Sorry, but WEIRD.

He should have waited at least another decade or two before playing at memoirs. But I have a feeling that time wouldn’t help.

Survivors

Matera the Mad

A few survivors thank God for saving their lives.
A few thousand non-survivors are silent.
What would they say, if we could ask them?
Did they pray? Did they plead for their lives in their last few minutes?

Why did God crush them, smash them, burn them, trap them under rubble to die in slow agony? What did they do wrong?

And what makes the survivors think they’re so fucking important, on their little dust speck in the vastness of space.

Could it be Christian Narcissism? It certainly looks like it. All one bundle with the rest of the I – Me – My Soul junk. The comforting arrogance of being right about everything, knowing It All.. Having a Personal Relationship with the externalized projection of a concept. An anthropomorphic idea of godness derived from highhanded interpretations of selected writings, put forth by men who have used it to grow and maintain their power.

Anyone who is alive to tell their story can make up whatever they want. Conquering colonizers write history. They are the survivors. The people they tried to wipe out – from the time of Moses’ Marauders, ravaging their way through the blood-soaked pages of the Old Testament, to the dark days of smallpox blankets and native culture destroying schools – have a pitifully small voice. Murdered in the name of God under the authority of powerful religious leaders, their lives didn’t matter.

You have to be really good at cognitive dissonance not to be bothered by this shit.

Wolf Words

Matera the Mad

The Method Behind The Idiocy
Wolves In Wordy Clothing

Y’all know that Old Fat Donald is widely kbown and critizized for his rambling, incoherent rants.

He has said that he weaves everything together, and that it’s all a wonderful product of his genius mind. While it seems to me more felting than weaving, it becomes obvious when you examine the technique with an open mind, that IT HAS PURPOSE.

An intelligent non-cultist listener will, of course, be baffled, trying to make sense of it in a normal way.

That is part of the purpose.

His cult following, to whom he is speaking, don’t care what he says or how he says it. Their ears are being happily hammered with repeated buzzwords, catchphrases, familiar warm-fuzzyings. What they take away is reinforcement of their beLIEfs.

Meanwhile, the puzzled ones who expect a speaker to make sense are doing just what he wants too! They criticize him. They PICK ON HIM! They reinforce the wahh wahhh martyr image. The cultists lick that up.

Remember, this is a narcissist with many years of experience in manipulating people.

He’s never done a day’s work, has never done anything honest, has never been a great businessman. His books were ghost-written. His whole life has been one long faking-it. He just has the ability to throw other people out on the front line to do the dirty work, and throw them away when it is convenient.

He has a talent for setting people against one another. Dividing them, like a wolf pack cutting their victims from a herd.

no shit

Old Fat Donald

Matera the Mad

I started singing this around the house for stress relief, and had to get it down and share it. Feel free to add and alter.
Latest version – Download PDF

Old Fat Donald

A folksong for evil times

Old Fat Donald is a pig. Donald Trump’s a LIE.
In his pen the lawyers feed. Donald Trump’s a LIE.
With a tax-evasion here
And a pussygrab there,
Here a scam,
There a rape
Everywhere a big lie
Old Fat Donald is a pig. Donald Trump’s a LIE.

Old Fat Donald is a pig. Donald Trump’s a LIE.
In the White house he did shit. Donald Trump’s a LIE.
With incitement here
And bullying there
Here a gun
There a riot
Everywhere a big lie
Old Fat Donald is a pig. Donald Trump’s a LIE.

Old Fat Donald is a pig. Donald Trump’s a LIE.
Narcissism is his thing. Donald Trump’s a LIE.
With a gaslight here
And delusions there
Here a brag
There a sneer
Everywhere a big lie
Old Fat Donald is a pig. Donald Trump’s a LIE.

Old Fat Donald is a pig. Donald Trump’s a LIE.
Bribery is legal now. Donald Trump’s a LIE.
With a thousand here
And a million there
Buy the court
Sell us short
Kill the women
Let Earth fry
Guns in school
The bullies rule
Every man a corporate tool
Old Fat Donald is a pig. Donald Trump’s a LIE.
June/July 202

More goodies, almost in my own words!
Apprentice Producer Exposes Trump’s Incompetence, Racism

no shit
The only thing that ever comes out of his mouth

Definitely check out anything Mary Trump, the swine’s niece, has to say about the whole sick family. She knows a psychopath when she sees one.

Facebook IS the bully

Matera the Mad

Once upon a time, I created a Page on Facemuck. It was just a place to share my origami. It was nice, people liked it. It was like a cozy, sunny room with an open door. I could come and go as I pleased.

But this was Facemuck, land of the whore and home of the knave, where all that matters is making money. Big Bully constantly annoyed me with nags about my “business”. Then along came the NEeeew PAyage Expeeerayance. The door slammed shut. I could still go into my Page, but it wasn’t mine any more. I had to change clothes every time I went through that door, and the door was always locked behind me until I changed back.

I locked the door and barred it.

Now I have a Group. It’s another pleasant room, a cheerful place where there’s always a little party going on. I can freely go in and out.

I wonder how long it will be before Big Bully thinks up a way to ruin that too.

wait until Facebook sees my flamethrower

How to say it, maybe

Matera the Mad

A brief screed and pronunciation guide for science fiction names, in particular those of the inhabitants of Ann McCaffrey’s Pern. This material is intended for those who think they speak English :p

The greatest danger in pronunciation of “strange” names is our perceptual habits. Skimming carelessly over an unfamiliar combination of letters can result in the incoming data being interpreted as something familiar, from a first impression based on only a few letters. Sticking with that, not taking a second look, results in the mangled pronunciation being reinforced!

Our word recognition algorithms are only as good as information and *Practice* make them. Exercising the mind, and self-checking – not always accepting what seemed to be at first glance – sharpen one’s ability. The more new things become familiar, the more effective the process can be.

Experience with languages other than one’s native tongue can help by providing an alternative framework of pronunciation guidelines, as well as merely making us more aware (and wary) of what we see. Or think we see.

When I was a small child (back when God was making rocks), my favorite crayon color was magenta. I construed the color name as “magNETa.” Eventually I saw it as it was. Eh, it’s not my fave color any more anyway.

Accent on the first syllable. (JAXom, FANdarel, ROBinton)
Exception: Double letters take the accent in names of more than two syllables (MenOLLy) – although it seems a general rule that female names are accented on second or next-to-last anyway! Considered this way, Ruatha Hold is – um – a female. As for Sebell . . . eh, I think SEA-bell sounds silly.

Consonants as in normal English, except that hard G may be preferred to soft (by me).

Gaelic-derived names should be approached warily. Guidance is available. You get the hang of ot after a while.

Vowels – a matter of context.
A – Lean toward AH, with some long A in accented syllables
E – Generally short, as in lEft, with some more of an “ei” (as in Spanish). Meh-LEI-na (Melena, Robinton’s mum), Feh-LEI-na (Felena, Benden Weyr personnel))
I – “eee” in most cases (internal). Igen is a problem. Eye-gen (hard G) is my pref.
O – Can usually be played by ear according to context with no unfamiliar twists.
U – Generally a trouble-free letter, unless it gets inserted where it isn’t.
Y – This ambiguous – nay, amphibious! – vowel-consonant does not appear much, at least among the people of Pern. I just want to say, while I have the opportunity, that hearing it pronounced as if it were plying both trades at once is horribly annoying. In other words, if I had a friend named Yvonne, I would NOT call her Yivonne, Yuvonne, Yehvonne, or Yavonne. It ain’t a one-letter diphthong.

Diphthongs and other pairs:
AI – as in “aye-aye, my eye” – AIVAS should be EYE-vas, yes?
IE – I insist that Harper Piemur / Rhymes with bubbly pie fur. (Of course, you will never see a bubbly pie with fur, because they must all be eaten fresh, and sharding well will be if Piemur is around!)
The rare (to us) consonant combo “MN” just had to be thrown in for F’lar’s dragon. If you can’t figure out how to get some M in your N, just do the N! Mnementh won’t care.

Weyr: Weer (not wire or ware)

There. More may be added. Like it or bite me.

Kingdom of the Blind Giant

Matera the Mad

A Parable of Privacy and Security

Once upon a time there was a a country ruled by a blind giant. In the beginning, he seemed to be a kind ruler. His subjects were contented and happy. Neighboring kingdoms readily allied with his.

Since most of the people thought that he had their best interests at heart, few objected when he asked them all to wear bells. It was for their own good, after all. A blind king must have some way to know where people were.

The bells gave the blind giant more freedom to move. He persuaded other kingdoms to merge with his, and their people wore bells too.

There were still some people who didn’t like wearing bells. And, of course, there were many more who would forget to put their bells on when they went out. People without bells were apt to get hurt if they got in the giant’s way. At first, no one paid much attention to their cries of pain. The king said that it was sad that anyone was harmed, but had he not given them bells? Surely it was no his fault if anyone was not using them.

After a while, the people who tended to forget their bells started to wear them all the time. It became a common custom for everyone to have their bells on at all times. Despite the inconvenience, they felt safer with the bells.

Those who disagreed strongly with bell-wearing were alarmed by the nearly universal acceptance. They would ask their friends, “Why do you wear your bells all day, even at home? What are you afraid of?”

The answer was always, “No, no, I’m not afraid! The bells are for my protection. The king is good, bells are good.”

But the anti-bell faction continued speak out against bells, insisting that they were unnecessary. If people accepted personal responsibility and kept out of the blind giant’s way, they would never get stepped on, they said. “Watch out for yourselves,” they repeated. “The king gives you bells so that he can avoid blame. The bells are for his convenience, not yours.” In fact, the constant jangling of bells had begun to negate their supposed purpose. In the cacophonous confusion, people who wore bells suffered injury more than those who kept their eyes open and kept out of harm’s way.

The king denied this, of course. Being blind, he knew only what his advisers told him, and he chose his advisers carefully. All of them had well-tuned bells. They never got stepped on or knocked over, which proved to them — and the giant — that bells were completely effective. If people got hurt, it was their own fault.

Life was getting harder for the anti-bell people. They were often denied access to basic public services because they had no bells. It often took them several times as long to get anything done because of bell discrimination. But there was no where they could go to escape the tyranny of the bell cult, since the giant had taken over nearly all the adjacent kingdoms, and most of the territories that still claimed to be independent had adopted their own system of bells.

The giant’s name was Google.

Letter to Charter Communications

Emily Lake

Dear Minions of the Insane Monopoly;

My check for the current amount due is enclosed. Please also accept my sincere disgust for your cavalier treatment of an honest, reliable paying customer.

For several years I have enjoyed the convenience of paying my bill online. Lately, it has changed from a convenience to a growing annoyance. Finally, the waste of my time became so unbearable that I was forced to waste even more time obtaining a mailing address.

I am tired of being treated like a criminal when I try to log in to pay my bill. Not once, but over and over IN ONE SESSION I am presented with a time-wasting game to “prove” that I am not a bot. When I have completed the test, the website sits grinding its gears until it times out, and then demands that I do it again. Rinse and repeat.

And there is no way out of this automated Hell! Why should I have to “prove that I’m not a robot” only to chat with your robots? Seriously? I tried a phone call, and never got past a brainless recording! The very next day, I had a problem with eBay, which was pleasantly resolved with a phone call, during which I spoke to two human beings. EBay has real customer support!

I am a human being, and as such I have a right to be treated with a minimum of respect; in return I will give whatever respect is due. I can not respect any entity that wants to punish me for honestly trying to pay a bill! Nor do I appreciate the assumption that I am just another inept, ignorant user “having trouble logging in” when the fact is that the website’s automated rudeness and seemingly purposeful slowness are preventing my login. Moments earlier I had logged into my bank to check my account balance. It was all over in a minute.

My apparent location should have no bearing on my ability to pay my bills online. What if someone is out of town on business or visiting a relative? Should their actual, physical change of location, and therefore change of IP address, make it impossible to pay a bill? Isn’t that one of the things the Internet is for, to make distance irrelevant? AT&T makes no fuss about it when I pay my phone bill; my ID, password, and zip code are good enough. I can get the whole process over with in less time than it takes to suffer ONE bout of your obstructive game-playing.

My use of a Virtual Private Network (VPN) is not a sign of criminal activity. I maintain several websites, and log into other non-https sites; the VPN makes this much more secure. It is not illegal for an ordinary citizen to take precautions against being hacked. I can see no reason why I should take time to stop the VPN simply because I want to pay a bill in an idle moment between other activities. My time is just as valuable as that of anyone my money goes toward paying (that’s you, Bunky, and you’re not that special). If your system can’t understand who I am unless my identity is tied to an apparent location, there is something wrong with your system.

An IP address is not a personal identifier; it is nothing but a temporary identifier for a device or group of devices that allows communication with other devices. A hacker could, theoretically, use my wifi. Does that make us the same person, one that you would trust because you “know” the location? Even judges have ruled that an IP address is NOT an infallible means of identification of a person. To wit:

“An IP address provides only the location at which one of any number of computer devices may be deployed, much like a telephone number can be used for any number of telephones.”
— Judge Gary Brown, United States District Court of the Eastern District of New York.

If you are truly concerned about security, there are much better ways to ascertain the correct identity of an individual logging in than their IP address. There are also better ways to ensure my legitimacy than to use a CAPTCHA that works so poorly that it never really works! There are certainly better ways to handle regional data — AT&T seems to manage this quite well. Perhaps you should ask them how they manage their database.

No amount of advertising and promotional hype (which I also have to pay for) can cover the fact that Spectrum has become an inhuman monster with no respect or consideration whatsoever for the faceless, dehumanized masses it feeds on.

SSL – One Moment of Security

Matera the Mad

SSL, Secure Sockets Layer, keeps data sent between two points from being intercepted and misused by a third party. This means that your password, credit card info, Social Security card number, or the name of your girlfriend’s dog will be safely transmitted when you click the DoIt button.

But that is all it does.

Once that information has been stored by the website, it is only as safe as the website itself. SSL does not make a website secure; it only makes communication with it secure.

Every recent huge data breach has released personal information from sites “protected” by SSL. So think twice or more before letting https// www Big Business keep your payment information. Or your birth date, mother’s maiden name, pet’s name, or anything else that can contribute to the cause of identity theft.

There are two reasons I’m not seduced by any temptations to enroll in autopay: One, I might not have any money in the bank tomorrow. Two, the reason I don’t have any money in the bank tomorrow could be that the site I gave my banking info to has been hacked.