Hi! I am alive. How are you??

As the title suggests i now have an interest in developing applications for the iphone. Everyone seems to be having such a fantastic time doing it so i thought why not me too?

I have found out in the last several weeks since i decided this would be something i would like to try, that it is very hard indeed to register as a company to apples iphone developer program. Many emails and several hundred FAX attempts later, (YES FAX!? Apple pls wtf?) i am patiently awaiting some kind of response from apple, somewhere.  When this happens i will have my mits on the latest version 3 of the SDK to play with. Then i hand it over to my mate Timmy G to perform some coding nerdery and we will both make a bajillion space bucks.

Until then! Or until something else urges me to make a useless post huhu.

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Well, there you go, after once being the 3rd most popular website on the internet and Yahoo! aquiring it for something like $3 billion USD, Geocities is going to close. Normally i wouldnt give a shit but this particular free web host holds a special place in my heart. You see, it is the home of The Official PorkSword Homepage.

Not only does this mean that the site will close and the homepage, which has been there for 10 years (!!) will be no more, it will really actually be totally no more as i have no idea what the login details are for the site so I have no way to save the data. Unless of course i manually save every bit of it, but i wont do that cos that is lame.

So, to all you PorkSword fans out there, and i know there are… some, this year will be the last year you can view our homepage so make the most of it! In my opinion this is “out of line”.

EDIT: fuck it. what was i thinking? i’ve downloaded the entire site using a nifty little application, so now all we need is a domain to bung it on. I could just throw it up on one of mine but i feel we need our own such as www.porksword.com. Unfortunately, that site is already registered and parked as a gay resource site hah.  I have put in an offer to the owner on sedo.co.uk. Will see if i get a response!

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If you Google his name you get almost 70,000 results. A couple of years back he was breaking records by hacking more than 20,000 sites all at the same time.

Fortunately for me and however many other sites were done, these kinds of hacks are more of a statement than malicious and the fix was just to simply restore or delete the little plain text index.html file and all was back to normal.

After having domains on the net since 2003 this is my first time being hacked!

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Virus Report – See The Graph below

In July, our Postini datacenters saw the biggest volume of email virus attacks so far in 2008, with a peak of nearly 10 million messages on July 24. One of the more prominent attacks in the month involved a spoofed UPS package-tracking link that was intended to lure recipients into clicking on it and downloading malware. Our zero-hour virus protection technology first started catching these emails on July 20.

July Breaks Record in Virus Attacks

Spam Levels Remain High: April showed peak spam volumes for 2008, but the overall level of spam remains high this summer. The average user has received 133 spam messages per day this year. Our statistics show that the average unprotected user would have received 36,000 spam messages in 2006 and 36,000 in 2007. This year’s July total shows a 68% growth rate over the same time in 2007. In short, spam attacks in 2008 have not let up from previous years.

Viruses tend to increase during the summer months, and August is already showing some new types of viruses. On August 5, we saw a large inflow of messages with an encrypted .RAR attachment. The overall 2008 trend has been a decrease in the use of attachments, so this new virus is confirmation that spam doesn’t follow trends for long.

These examples are also a good reminder about the importance of educating our colleagues, friends, and family on how to safely interact with email — namely, that we should all be careful about clicking on links in emails, even if those messages appear to be from people or organizations we know.

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Of course when you find one of natures greatest mysteries and you’re American, the first thing you should do is kill it. Now to the untrained eye that up there might just look like a stinking pile of wet shag carpet with a gorilla mask and some uncooked sausages, but to seasoned Big Foot hunters like Mathew Whitton, Tom Biscardi, and Rick Dyer, this is in fact a 7 foot tall Big Foot carcass they found somewhere in Georgia. And now it’s in a freezer.

from their site:

Here are some of the vital statistics on the “Bigfoot” body:

*The creature is seven feet seven inches tall.
*It weighs over five hundred pounds.
*The creature looks like it is part human and part ape-like.
*It is male.
*It has reddish hair and blackish-grey eyes.
*It has two arms and two legs, and five fingers on each hand and five toes on each foot.
*The feet are flat and similar to human feet.
*Its footprint is sixteen and three-quarters inches long and fiveand three-quarters inches wide at the heel.
*From the palm of the hand to the tip of the middle finger, its hands are eleven and three-quarters inches long and six and one-quarter inches wide.
*The creatures walk upright. (Several of them were sighted on the same day that the body was found.)
*The teeth are more human-like than ape-like.
*DNA tests are currently being done and the current DNA and photo evidence will be presented at the press conference on Friday, August 15th.

One of the most reputable new sources in the world, Fox News has a story on youtube.

So apparently they had the thing in a freezer and they tried to get it to freeze in a block of ice by filling the freezer with water which broke it. Deary me.

I wonder what this will yield. Surely just some viral marketing campaign. Sure is working so far!

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So hoorah! Already up 36% at the time of writing. No reports on Ropren yet i’m guessing they might wait a week or so.

solagran share price

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http://developer.mozilla.org/devnews/

Mozilla.com web traffic is pushing well over 2 Gigabits a second of just pure HTTP traffic. That is in addition to the 13 Gigabits a second or so of download traffic. We are still at around 14,000 download/minute and mozilla.com is responding well! Go Mozilla community and IT team!

Spread the love

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http://darwin-online.org.uk/

Rad.

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Well, to be honest i don’t really think about Charlton Heston that much and this really doesn’t come as much surprise the man was about 1000 years old (read – 84). Anyway, he has been around for quite a long time doing various crazy things such as being the President of the National Rifle Association and also the not as crazy Screen Actors Guild. The cause of death is not yet known, he was diagnosed with symptoms consistent with Alzheimer’s Disease in 2002.

So in honor of his death i will post his diaries.

April 14th, 2003

Dear Diary,

Today I killed a man with my own damned hands.

I was on the city bus when the murder transpired. I had just travelled to the public library to rent a copy of The Ten Commandments. The events that followed led naturally to the murder, and I do not fault myself for it. I am positive anyone would have done the same thing if put in my position.

What happened was this: I suddenly felt the urge to kill a man with my bare hands. The lust sometimes comes over me— as I am sure it does us all— and I find it best not to argue with the kill-lust, but rather feed the hunger as one would a pet of some kind.

Reaching over to the man next to me, I lightly placed my hand atop his shoulder, and with the other hand holding The Ten Commandments attempted a friendly wave.

“Hello, hippie,” I said chummily. “Petitioned your government to abolish guns lately? Me too—we’re all hippie friends here. There’s nothing to be frightened of.”

“Um hey,” said the man. “Say aren’t you Cha—”, and then I damned well killed him, pummeling him in the neck with The Ten Commandments until he was dead.

I laughed a hearty baritone laugh, with my hands atop my hips. “I’m Charlton damned Heston!” I yelled to everyone on the bus. “And I just killed a man with my own damned hands, you filthy hippies!”

Ha HA! They didn’t have much to say about that!

May 4th, 2003

Dear Diary,

Today I went to the hospital to have an entire liter of dark, viscuous fluid evacuated from my brain. I found this to be sensationally interesting news, but my wife Margaret was very troubled by it. Out of respect to her, I did not share my excitement— not only to be out of the house, but in a really big hospital with many interesting machines around me.

At first I suspected hippies were to blame for the fluid—or worse still, filthy hippies— but my doctor assured me the fluid had nothing at all to do with those dirty foul-smelling urchins. Rather, it appeared that my brain had, as the young people say, “hemhorraged.”

With typical Heston wit, I jokingly asked my doctor if my “hemhorraged” brain could perhaps be inspected by the imminent Dr. Zaius. Then I laughed a manly baritone laugh with my hands atop my hips!

My doctor replied that Dr. Zaius did not work at this hospital, and then gave me a very confused and worried look. Shocked, I asked my doctor if he had never seen Planet of the Apes. He told me that he had “caught a few minutes of it” on television once, but had turned it off because he hates “old movies,” and he thought “the apes looked fake.”

And so, with typical Heston wit, I attempted to murder him.

After I had been sedated and roped down, I was forced under duress to promise my doctor I would not ever again throw myself at him in an attempt to tear out his hippie throat. I remained suspicious, however. Why would he lie about not liking The Planet of the Apes? It made no sense. I immediately suspected my doctor of being a homosexual, dear diary, and suspect it still.

At any rate, everyone was quite upset about the hemhorrage, especially my wife Margaret. The doctor told me my whole brain would probably turn to fluid soon, that it would drain out of my ears, and that my entire skull would eventually cave into my vacant head.

Worried, I asked him if that could affect my acting career. He said it that yes, it might, as I would be dead. I pulled the man aside and asked him, in all seriousness, to give the news to me straight, with no sugar coating: were the hippies to blame for this? Sensing how he would answer, I grabbed a scruffy-haired male nurse by the neck to thrash him to death for the conspiracy. But my doctor said no, he had already explained that hippies had nothing to do with it, and he pleaded with me to put the orderly down, which I grudgingly did.

When the tests came back later in the afternoon, it was discovered that the fluid taken out of my brain had in fact been common pork gravy. My doctor was flummoxed, and queried me as to how I could possibly have gotten such a large amount of pork dripping inside the casings of my skull.

I explained to him that my wife Margaret had cooked a delicious ham the other night. So hungry had I been, I had eaten the entire damned thing up in ten seconds. The doctor waited patiently, then after several minutes mentioned that this explained nothing as to how I had managed to get twenty ounces of gravy into my brain, and I remembered I had not finished the story. I continued.

Moments after having eaten the delicious ham, you see, I heard an odd beeping noise from behind me, and looked around in horror to see my wife Margaret pulling gravy out of the microwave. There had been delicious gravy for my ham the whole time — and in my impatience I had missed it!

So upset had I been that, later that night, I had snuck downstairs and poured the gravy directly into my ears and sinuses with a funnel.

The doctor discharged me soon after. The young doctors of today simply can’t treat illnesses like they could when I was a child, dear diary. In my day, the doctor would have forced a ham into my sinuses to chase the gravy.

Suffice to say, I have since begun investigations into my doctor being a homosexual. More on this later, diary.

June 15th 2003

Dear Diary,

Today I took a walk with my wife Margaret. It was a beautiful day, and as I had already emptied my daily round of ammunition at the tree in our backyard with my elephant rifle, we agreed to take a nice walk upon the path that runs through the orchard a few acres from our home. This sounded like a splendid idea, and so my wife Margaret filled a picnic basket with egg salad sandwiches and the medication that stops my skin from melting spiders out its pores, and off we went.

It was a wonderfully sunny day, and my wife Margaret and I enjoyed some of the many sights of the quaint New England countryside. We saw a family of finches building a nest in the crack of an old wooden fence and I shot them. We saw a goose feeding its goslings in a small pool of water by an abandoned river mill and I shot them all to Hades. We saw a dog chasing a cat up a tree, and I shot the dog to death but missed the cat. We saw a small boy flying a kite near the river mill. My wife Margaret stopped me from shooting the boy, so I reluctantly shot at a bush instead.

The path soon bent alongside a small brook. At this point we were forced to stop walking momentarily, because in my excitement to shoot a deer lapping at the brook, I excreted in my pants and almost shot my wife Margaret. However, my wife soon cleaned my unfortunateness up, and a few minutes walk later we were at the orchard.

To my delight, I immediately spied an entire field of trees just like the one I used to visit as a child.

“Margaret!” I called. “Come and look!” Lying on the ground– and in the tree itself! — were hundreds of small red petrified skulls, just as I remembered from my childhood.

“These,” I said, holding the skull up to Margaret, who reached for the pills, “are the skulls of Native Americans! Look how bloody and red they are!” I explained to my wife how I used to come to a tree just like this one as a child, and how I would collect the small skulls if the red savage.

“And don’t think me a brute, Margaret,” I whispered with a wink, “but I’ve even on occasion eaten the skulls. The Native American’s brains are sweet and tender! You must try one!”

Well, diary, you will not believe it, but apparently these cursed little red things are not skulls at all, but rather some damned thing called an “apple.” Also, they have not been placed atop the trees by Republicans, as I had previously thought, but grow on the tree naturally. I asked Margaret why on Earth they would do a thing like this. She said that there were seeds in the apples, and that this was how the tree reproduced.

Sweet Lord in Heaven, diary! If I had known that all those damned things I’d eaten as a child weren’t the petrified skulls of Native Americans, but the cursed semen-casings of some miserable tree, I’d never have touched them in the first place!

At least I still have my bananas.

July 8th, 2003

Dear Diary,

The other day a good friend gave me a delightful piece of news!

I had just gone outside to have my daily five hour chat with good Mister Mailbox— what a grand fellow— when he surprised me with a letter in his mouth.

“Why Mister Mailbox,” I exclaimed, patting him on the head. “You’ve outdone yourself! This is mail from somewhere on present-day Earth! Why, it could be from anyone.”

At this point my wife Margaret had to come outside and calm me down, since the neighbours were beginning to complain. (Someday, diary, I intend to shoot my neighbours, as they have been nothing but a nuisance since I moved in last year. If a man wishes to have a simple conversation with a good friend, on his own property, and firing a scarce minimum of rifle shots at passing cars, then who are my neighbours to complain? At any rate, I will shoot them in the chest soon.)

It turns out, diary, that the mail was from my dear friends at the National Rifle Association. I was so very pleased that I immediately grabbed my semi-automatic machine gun off of the wall of my study and fired a celebratory magazine into the walls and ceiling. It seemed that the New England chapter of the National Rifle Association was having a fundraiser at the local Hilton, and they wished me to give an introductory speech! I immediately had my wife Margaret send my tuxedo to the cleaners.

I hurriedly brought my old typewriter out from under my bed and began drafting what was to be my introductory speech. This was what I intended to say at the fundraiser:

Hello, members of the National Rifle Association, and welcome to this event. My name is Charlton Heston, and I was also in The Ten Commandments. I could kill any one of you right now.

When I was younger, I wrestled a lion to death with my face. I can’t stand thick carpets. Why is everything so small nowadays? I can’t even fit into my television set without breaking it.

We need to defend ourselves from the ape race. It is a fact that over 100% of people in America should own guns, and that number is growing every day. In conclusion, if we don’t take out the garbage, hippies will paw through it in our garage. Thank you and goodnight.

Now, the letter had explicitly stated that I should send a copy of my speech to the NRA branch office, so that it could be perused before the fundraiser. Remembering this, I dutifully put a copy of the speech into an envelope, and I attached stamps to the envelope. I then placed the envelope atop my table and patiently stared at it, waiting for it to disappear. Three hours later, my wife Margaret explained that letters were supposed to be placed into some manner of mail receptacle, and that she would place the letter into the receptacle for me when she went on her nightly jog. This was a relief, as the letter had only partially disappeared.

One week later, my wife and myself arrived at the Hilton for the fundraiser, and were confronted by a homosexual. The homosexual informed me that he was in charge of the fundraiser, and that he was pleased that we had made it.

I told him quite firmly that he had better not give me any homosexual rings, since I would not wear them and anyway did not believe in their powers. He paused at this and pretended to ignore me. He then explained that some members of the NRA had made a few small changes to my speech, and he handed me an envelope that contained a sheaf of cue cards. This did not trouble me much, as I had infinite trust in the judgement of the NRA. No doubt they wished to insert a comma or two where grammar dictated. I am not the world’s best grammarian, after all! I am also not a homosexual.

That night, the fundraiser started with much fanfare, and I was introduced to a cheering crowd. As I approached the podium, I took the sheaf of cue cards from the inner pocket of my tuxedo. And, diary, I felt a chill run up my very spine as I looked in horror at my mangled speech!

Every word had been changed. All of my wise entreaties to kill cats and disallow hippies to paw through our garbage had been removed. Instead, a series of banal greetings replaced my words, with silly information about gun safety and firearm regulation programs. Bah and more bah! When I wish to regulate my guns, I will elect a mincing Democrat to the White House! Until then, however, keep your laws off my gun!

I quickly tore the cue cards to pieces in anger. When I reached the podium, I gave a completely impromptu speech, which went as follows:

Have any of you damned homosexuals ever seen The Omega Man? It was released in 1971, and it grossed twenty-one million dollars, which was a very considerable amount of money at the time. My co-stars were character actor Anthony Zerbe and sizzling up-and-comer Rosalind Cash – two young talents I’m sure you’ll be hearing more of.

At any rate, if I were to shoot both of them and drag their damp carcasses into this auditorium, nobody in this room would be fit to lick the offal from them.

Do you understand what I’m saying to you? I doubt it. I’m Charlton damned Heston! You can’t change my speeches! Don’t you understand I wrote them? I had a Remington carbine semi-automatic rifle in The Omega Man, and I shot zombies from the future with that rifle. If zombies attack us again, what are you going to do if I can’t write my own speeches? Where are your Remington carbine semi-automatic rifles, you fucking homosexuals? Not one of you has any idea how to kill a man. Watch my karate kicks!

At this point I began kicking the air with a series of furious karate kicks. Now, I might be an elderly gentleman, but I tell you – those kicks were very very high in the air!

After my impressive martial arts display, I took out my graphite-based Luger .45 carbine alloy pistol and waved it around for the crowd to appreciate. When they began to upturn tables and hide for cover, I began to suspect something was wrong.

As it turns out, diary, I had walked into the wrong auditorium! Not two doors down, in a similar looking auditorium, the NRA Flesh-Exploding Hollow-Tipped Bullet Jamboree was getting underway without me. Well, I must have looked quite the fool, parading my graphite Luger around the Women Dealing With Menopause convention! The security guards that tackled me to the ground certainly looked surprised, at any rate.

My wife Margaret has since made me promise that I never leave her sight again when we go outside. I agreed to this, under the conditions that I still be allowed to have my daily talks with Mister Mailbox. Margaret reluctantly agreed, and so everyone seems to be happy.

Alright then. I’m off to kill my neighbours!

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The seven social sins are:

1. “Bioethical’ violations such as birth control
2. “Morally dubious” experiments such as stem cell research
3. Drug abuse
4. Polluting the environment
5. Contributing to widening divide between rich and poor
6. Excessive wealth
7. Creating poverty

The original deadly sins:

1. Pride
2. Envy
3. Gluttony
4. Lust
5. Anger
6. Greed
7. Sloth

The old ones are way cooler imo. Maybe they should make up some rad word for “Contributing to widening divide between rich and poor” and i will be more interested. hah!

via Bloomberg

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