Hacked! [The "Take Me for a Trout" Edition]

So... after yet another phone call to try to solve the issue mentioned here, I finally talked with someone who admitted that the e-mail account has been hacked.

Since the exact same day, a lot of people have been complaining of the exact same issue, buuuuuuuuut... our provider says that it's our fault. Yea. Of course, the whole lot of us... from the same moment.

When I mentioned the possibility that they had been hacked to the IT bloke, he went "No, Ma'am! That's absolutely impossible!". Yea... but back in September, they had to admit that they'd been targeted. Why wouldn't it be the same this time??? "No, Ma'am! That's absolutely impossible!"

Whatev'.

There's no shame in being targeted by criminals, and since it took them thirteen days to admit that the account had been hacked, I'm not inclined to believe them about the origin of the hacking - sorry, guys!

Now, the next stupidity from them (unless the IT person who's going to read our online SOS/message does not have soup between the ears) is going to be the hopping through loops to get control of the account again. It really looks like DIY à la MacGyver to have to send a registered letter with proof of identity and new address because the "old" account (that they fucking have in their archives as the original e-mail account with the "old" address on file) is not fully linked to the new account. "We've got everything, but we're going to make you suffer whilst we're the ones with two left hands."

I hope to deal with someone with more than three brain cells in the box above its shoulders...

I'll keep you posted...

See you next year! ^_^

Of Internet Plonkers

My family's Internet provider is usually rather good, but for a fortnight, it's been a festival of idiocies.

First, someone called my mother (400 miles away from my flat, with a different name, and a different address) in order to talk about my connection. [Oops 1]

Then, Mother could no longer access her e-mail address (that started on the 17th, and it seems that her mailbox is far from being the only one).

I phoned them several times.

[First try] Girl 1: there's a big issue with a server. The connection will come back.

[Second try - two days later] Boy 1: I don't know what's going on. Send a message to the mail service. 

I did send a message, but since I could see no trace of it on Mother's contact page, I phoned again ->

[Third try] Boy 2: What's your problem? 

I started answering, and he hung up. Frothing at the mouth, I phoned back ->

Boy 3: I can't see your password. I can't tell you if it's been changed (that would have meant that Mother's account had been hacked). If you want me to post you your password, you'll need to send us (by snail mail!!!) a photocopy of a form of ID and of any document proving that your current address is valid because the e-mail address was created when you were living at another address, and it's that one that's still linked to the address.

I blew a fuse.

I told him that he has the "new" (since 2002!) address for the netbox, and he can bloody see the link between the old address (for the e-mail) and the new one (for the netbox and everything else).

I told him that it was a disgrace to have to rely on the post when dealing with an Internet provider (that froze the poor boy on the spot, by the way) and we would not be doing that. He finally suggested that I phone the techs, which is what I did ->

Girl 2: after I explained all the issues, she tried to guide me through the one thing I hadn't tried yet. When that didn't work, she managed to locate the answer from the mail service (that had been sent to the blocked e-mail address - how frigging intelligent), and it turns out that her first colleague was right; they've got a huge server problem.
Or do they? On their forums, they proudly announce that "everything's fine" whilst on other forums you can see dozens and dozens of people complaining (and we know that it's only the tip of the iceberg because not everyone subscribes to a forum to complain (I did not - I just read about their issues).
It seems that many people were hacked, and the provider demands that they explain how they think they got hacked.
Question: if I tell them that I'm convinced that they're the ones who were hacked because all the victims were attacked around the exact same time, are they going to help me?
I'm wasting time because of them, and Mother (I!!!) may have to change her address on quite a few sites if her original address doesn't get e-CPR very quickly.

Fuck! I could bite someone (working for our provider and being a silly plonker).

Too Mild December

Dear decerebrated bipeds,

I know the weather is muuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuch milder than usual for mid-December, but it'd be nice to realize that you're not on a desert island when you leave the pub at 1 A.M. and you laugh and yell like banshees who caught all their fingers between stones.

As well, if you're driving and you've got your windows open, it'd be a tad nice to lower the sound of your hideous music that's blaring when you stop at a red light. You're not alone. It's quiet(er) music or closed windows, but I don't have to jump when you or your idiot clone stops at the lights below my bedroom window and you car is spilling atrocious music.

Try to behave like a civilized being, not a brainless bacterium.

Thank you.

***************

If it were colder, these plonkers wouldn't be so noisy outside in December!

[Hell, I miss Japan on days like this!]

Of Plonkers Raised in Barns

After the nastiest encounter with the Void in over a decade, I'm not exactly patient. Or compassionate. Or nice. [Let's face it, the average biped doesn't care if I'm being nice because that's the nicer thing to do to not screw one's karma]

Perhaps I'm too <insert some positive adjective here>.

Perhaps there's something Japanese in me (when I went to Chinatown last Tuesday, I cleaned the shop trolley that I took and threw the cookie wrappers left in it in the parking lot dustbin - coz that was the right thing to do. Pity there was no recycling bin, by the way).

When I go somewhere and that space is shared, I leave it the way I found it (or I make it better by fixing the equipment!). I was taught it was the proper thing to do in order to show you're civilized, not a Barbarian raised in a cave by rabid wolves.

And so... what happened today when I got to school? A colleague had left with my classroom's keys (I had to borrow the masterkey).

I was already growling a bit when I reached my door - then... I opened it and saw that the white board had been moved (I dragged it back to the spot where it always is).

Later, I needed the video-projector, and it was facing south whilst it's usually facing north. I turned it around and................................... I realized that someone had unplugged it (good thing I'm not clueless when it comes to plugging equipment - sometimes! - otherwise my lesson was toast).

Honestly, unplug all you want, but you're not alone on this planet, bloody plonkers! If you unplug/move/change anything, you take a few minutes to put everything back where you found it when you arrived! It's not quantum physics, selfish prat.

Baby Steps towards Writing Comedy

And now for something completely different: writing news.

I have absolutely no problem writing sad plots, moving plots, and other tragic stories. I got some feedback (sometimes from editors), telling me that this or that story had made the reader contacting me cry.

I've got the "I should invest in a company that sells tissue" routine well-oiled and working fine.

So, of course, my dream is to write comedy. <strategically places pillow on the desk before banging head on it - repeatedly>

My problem is that I've made "Your plot must be plausible and research the topics you mention so that you don't write anything wrong or stupid" my cardinal rule. It's brilliant for serious plots with a hint of History, but it's a knife in the back if you want to write comedy where so much relies on absurd situations.

I am training, though, and even my serious sci-fi novels have bits of barminess that are giving me hope.

I was working on something different this week, and to make the plots work, I had to ignore that lil' voice in my head that kept telling me "But that detail wouldn't work in real life!". I growled at the voice and pointed out that it was a detail, and that the plot works with that tiny inaccuracy (before snapping at my own brain "Deal with it!").

It's not much, but it's telling me that I can train my brain to accept absurd situations that could generate comic plots.

I predict months (years? ô.O) of training, though.

The Planet I Want [John Lennon & Yoko Ono: WAR IS OVER! (If You Want It)]

I dream of a planet where we're not killing our children. A planet where soldiers are paid to rescue kittens up fir trees, rebuild houses and schools (or build them from scratch in remote places), go deliver babies in the mountain, and dig wells (for water, not oil).

When is our species going to grow up and get rid of greed? We all kick the bucket, and no one takes their gold to the (non-existent) afterlife.

PS:bloody onions! It's getting worse...

If I Could Make a Wish...

... I'd like someone to find a way to have this on loop for all politicos (and excited, pointless thugs, as well) until they start using their three (collective?) brain cells to protect the future of our children.

PS: if I ever find out who was cutting all those onions whilst I was watching this...