💾 Archived View for clemat.is › saccophore › library › ezines › textfiles › ezines › PAIN › pv6.txt captured on 2021-12-04 at 18:04:22.

View Raw

More Information

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

                             .___------------___.  
                        . - '                    ' - .
                     .-'               6              '-.
                    /                                    \
            .4$$$$ln.   .d$$l::;;b.       .$     '$


      '$'
            $


       '$ $


      '$     .d$      $$.      ::
            $;         ;; $;         ;;  .' ;$      $;'$.    ::
            $;         ;; $;         ;:     ;$      ;;$ '$.   ;:
            $;         ;; $;         ;:     ;$      :::   'l$. $
            $;       .;


 $;         $     ;$      $$     `$$
            $$  _.$ll#'   $$.____   _$     ;;$      $$       '$
            $$            $


'''''''$$     ;;;      $;        $;
            $$            $$        $$     $;;      $;;        $
          _.$$._        _.$$._    _.$$._ _.$$._  _.$$._    _.$._
         $$$$   '._.'                             ._.'     $$$$    
                   .-' .$


  '$.--_      _--.


  '$$. '-.
         --------- |   $'     '$            


     '$   | ---------
         P A 1 N 6 l   $   x .


            '$. x   $   j P A 1 N 6
         ---------     '$.  '       ;$        '  .$'     ---------
                     '._.                            ._.' 
                         '$b_.                   ._d



                             '$b.             .d


    M A G A Z I N E
                              








._._._.'





$
                              '-| | | | | | | |-'      
     -------------------------  '-'-!_!_!_!-'-' ----------------------------

                +---- --------------- ------------------ ------+
                |                                              |
                |         PA1N Magazine Volume Number 6        |
                !                                              !
                +-----------+---------------------+------------+
                |           |                     |            |
            - --:- ---------+ PA1N Magazine Staff +--------- --:- - 
                :                                              :
                '     Editor In Chief   - alienbinary          '
                :     Co-Editor         - Turnspike            :
                      Editor            - angel ice       
                .     American Asshole  - Rumbling Sky         .
                .     Editor            - Nemisis              .
                      Loki Editor       - Danger Girl  
                      Follow the...     - White Rabbit 
                      Guest Writer      - Mephyt
                      
            - ---- --- --------------------------------- --- ---- - 
                        "anybody else want to negotiate?" 
                          -- Bruce Willis, 5th Element
            - ---- --- --------------------------------- --- ---- - 
                 
                 +----------PA1N Magazine Volume Six-----------+
                 |                                             |
  +SIX-----------+----------[ Table of discontent. ]-----------+---------XIS+
  
   -- PA1Nv6x01 --- Letter from the Editor                   alienbinary ---
   -- PA1Nv6x02 --- Letter from the Co-Editor                  Turnspike ---
   -- PA1Nv6x03 --- Project Loki Archives Three              alienbinary ---
   -- --------- ---                                          Danger Girl ---
   -- PA1Nv6x04 --- Knives have feelings too                 alienbinary ---
   -- PA1Nv6x05 --- New Years: First Plight, Boston          alienbinary ---
   -- PA1Nv6x06 --- Protect Hate                        the White Rabbit ---
   -- PA1Nv6x07 --- Stream of Consciousness Montage          alienbinary ---
   -- PA1Nv6x08 --- Eulogy in Cyberia                             mephyt ---
   -- PA1Nv6x09 --- RantRadio IRC, December 2003           RantRadio IRC ---
   -- PA1Nv6x10 --- De-Obfuscating iPod's Filesystem         alienbinary ---
   -- PA1Nv6x11 --- The Public Suicide of R. Budd Dwyer        Turnspike ---
   -- PA1Nv6x12 --- NOD.2 Anatomy of an OSCAR network            Nemisis ---
   -- PA1Nv6x13 --- What happened to Freedom of Speech?      alienbinary ---
   -- PA1Nv6x0x --- Outro                                    alienbinary --- 
      
  +XIS-------------------------------------------------------------------SIX+
  
     -----> Have PA1N of your own to share? By all means, contact us.
<----- 
                    
                    alienbinary            Turnspike 
                    
                 Editor In Chief           Co-Editor
                 pain@e-lite.org     Turnspike@spfd2600.org
                    
          - ----- ----> addicted to PA1N? Need a fix? <---- ----- - 
          
 
                   The PA1N Magazine Forums on SPFD2600.org
  
           ...and now, the sixth issue of a magazine that's almost 
              as much fun as going to the dentist, your favorite 
              subversive propaghanda, PA1N Magazine, Volume Six...
               
-?------------?-----??----------??????????????????????-------------------?????-
PA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1
PA1Nv6x1 -----------------------------------------------------------------[ 1 ]
                     [       Letter from the editor     ]
                     [             alienbinary          ]
[ 1 ]------------------------------------------------------------------PA1Nv6x1
NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA
-?------------?---????????????-----------????????--------??????????????????----

            - ---- --- --------------------------------- --- ---- - 
                     "Okay. Like a lot of you, I hate, a lot. 
                     But I hate with style and creativity."
        
                                      - Henry Rollins
            - ---- --- --------------------------------- --- ---- - 
            
                            [ About Issue Six ]


    There are a few articles to which I'd like to add personal addendums to,
but I don't feel entirely right doing so to the actual articles themselves.
Instead, I'll go over them here.

    "Protect Hate" struck a chord with me, personally, since I rememeber a
particularly aggravating event that took place a little while ago. In this
case, I was accused of hate speech because something I said contradicted the
beleifs of other people. This, I was under the impression, was supposed to be
okay. It wasn't. Last year, when I was in a real dingy dorm room on the
basement floor of an altogether hellishly unkempt dormatory, I had a white
board on my door for people to leave messages, or, as was more frequent, for me
to leave messages and quotations for other people. The board was a mess, I'll
admit, but it was one of the more decorative ones on the floor. 

    On the board, my roommate had written "<his name> IS GOD.", one
afternoon
when he was feeling particularly enamoured with himself. So, as a reply and to
add a sense of balance, I wrote "<my name> IS THE ANTI-CHRIST." He
noticed it,
laughed, and went to bed with his clothes on the night after I wrote the reply.
As time wore on, I ran out of space on the seven or eight white boards in the
room, and decided to make a mural. I had been doing an art history project on
H.R. Geiger, one of the artists whose works I personally admire most. After
several hours of working on a final paper on his underlying themes and
symbolism, I started a mural with an alien on it. The alien's face, which was a
distortion of the infamous "grey" alien, was crowned with horns, flowing down
like something out of Revelations.

    I kept going at it, and I worked for about an hour on this budget mural,
until it was a full fledged Baphomet with an inverted cross in the center of
the alien face, made to look branded in. Everyone who saw it was wildly
impressed, so they said, and I regret I don't have a picture. My roommate and I
decided to keep it, and when we became tired of explaining that it really HAD
NO SIGNIFICANCE, but was just a work of art (sort of), I proclaimed in red and
black letters that the inmates of room 006 practiced 'alienolotry,' whatever
the fuck that was. I decided that it would be kind of neat to attatch a
deification to the whiteboard, adding to the hubbub in the halls about the
growing mural.

    No one, however, seemed to have a problem with it, as well they shouldn't.
There's nothing to be offended by. But someone didn't have the balls to tell me
themselves that they were upset, and if they did, I actually probably would
have taken it down, out of respect. I don't seek to trample on other people's
beleif structures. But someone did say something. A lot of people did, I was
told.

    Regardless, the Residence Director handed down a mandate that I remove the
offensive words and sign or I would have to be brought up in front of a
judiciary committee. This, I thought, is unfuckingbeleiveable. I asked the poor
RA who's job it was to enforce this, why it offended someone, and he said that
it was offending their Christian beleifs, that they claimed I was making fun of
their faith. I invited him into the room and showed him my bookshelf in the
dingy shithole of a room. On it was the Tao te Ching, the Communist manifesto,
a book on Norse Paganism, several novels of various sorts, the Satanic Bible,
the Satanic Rituals, both by LaVey, and to his surprise, several books on
contemporary Christian Theology. I told him that it was rather absurd to think
I was against free religious thought, and that it should be pretty damn clear
that I meant no offense, as it was, I also pointed out that the whole damn
point was to create a dichotomy. If my roommate was GOD, then it only seemed
harmonious to have me be the DEVIL. Nevertheless, I was told to take it down
immediately, out of respect. I did, but I demanded one thing: all references to
God, Jesus, and that Hebrew name for God I can't spell be considered for the
same reasons. 

    I didn't actually beleive that it was wrong to express religious beleifs,
nor did I have any problem with someone having pride in their faith. But, if I
was to be denied any speech involving religious content, even in jest, then I
decided the people who couldn't ask me in person should be denied the same
right. Before the RA could agree, I had removed the bulk of the text and mural,
and he admitted, after grudgingly going over what he knew of his Criminal
Justice course on discrimination, that he would have to ask all people who did
what I said to remove the content as well. I told him that it wasn't necessary,
because I really hated to inhibit free speech, but that it was just something I
hoped he would convey to his boss. True to his word, he did. I was personally
thanked later for my cooperation, and even apologized to for failing to see the
hypocrisy.

    "NOD.2" Is a continuation of a peice that Nemisis has been working on for a
considerable amount of time. the Nemisis OSCAR Document is probably the most
complete archive of information on the OSCAR Protocol to date, and it's purpose
is to give the reader a better understanding of the network, and the software
so that people can start to write their own clients.
    
    AIM is riddled with advertisements, spam, and just jackasses, and once
people understand the technology used to create AIM clients, new ones can be
created, much like gAIM and Trillian. With the amount of spyware crammed into
each bit of AOL/Time Warner proprietary code, it may soon become necessary to
run alternative clients; hence, I have compiled from NOD a second installment,
this one focusing on the server side aspects. Admittedly, NOD is one of the
more complex tech articles you'll find in PA1N, because of the nature of the
peice. Nemisis has been dissecting IM clients since they became big, so much
that his pseudonymn has appeared in newspapers, the w00w00 security
coorporation's website (who stole a lot of NemisisAIM's Code... grr...,) and
his exploits have even influenced some of the security patches in the newer
versions of AOL Instant Messenger. For some of you, it may not be your cup of
tea, or for others, it may be over your head, but my job is to get the
information out there, and I've received several requests for more technology
related peices, so I've delivered.

    I should take this time to make a note about "Deobfuscating iPod's
Filesystem," something I wrote as a result of tireless tinkering with my old
five gig iPod. In putting this issue out, I took into consideration the DMCA
rulings about publishing code that could compromise copyright-protection
schemes, and the how-to of the same concepts. I've intentionally left out
peices about moving files to and from iPod's hidden directories so that there
will be no cause for concern among the other writers. Although I beleive in
free speech, and I personally don't much care for obeying rules I don't agree
with, it's more important to keep the project alive, than it is to jeopardize
it by publishing questionable content.

    If anyone reading this is a corporate exec in the recording industry,
understand that you don't have a leg to stand on in this case, you're going to
have to let it slide. I'm so tired of you (record industry) morons, that I
don't have the energy to fight you. I simply have chosen to deny that you have
any effect on my life whatsoever. It is possible to defeat an enemy that uses
the law to it's own corporate advantage by simply following the rules. Although
I would like to have included a source code to my iTopsy suite, I'm refraining
from doing so in the public release of this volume (if there is a private
release) just for peice of mind.

                            - -->   alienbinary   <-- -
                       - -- ---->                 <---- -- -
                       - -- - -->  PA1N Magazine  <-- - -- -
                       - -------> Editor In Cheif <------- -
                            - --> pain@e-lite.org <-- -
                       - -- ---->                 <---- -- -
        "We are tired of your abuse. try to stop us, but it's no use." 
                                            - Black Flag, 'Rise Above'

-?------------?-----??----------??????????????????????-------------------?????-
NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA
PA1Nv6x2 -----------------------------------------------------------------[ 2 ]
                     [    Letter From the Co-Editor   ]
                     [            Turnspike           ]
[ 2 ]------------------------------------------------------------------PA1Nv6x2
PA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1
-?------------?---????????????-----------????????--------??????????????????----

    Now that the winter tempratures have finaly come to my neck of the woods, I
find myself more confined to my computer, and away from dumpster diving,
wardriving, urban exploration, mountain biking, and all the other things I like
to do in warmer weather. But this time also makes me reflect on my net life as
well, and the thirst that keeps me logged on.

    I first connected to the internet in 1995 by an AOL dialup. I had to pay
long-distance charges to call the nearest number, so as you might have guessed
my phone bill for the next several month was huge. Since I was paying these
charges anyway, I would also connect occasionaly to a distant BBS. I was a big
Penn and Teller fan at the time, so I frequented their BBS, Mofo Ex Machina. My
little burg finally got a decent local dialup about a year later, and thanks to
some fiber optic lines close by, I was getting decent speeds with my 56k modem.
Without the long-distance charges to slow me down, I was on the net for 5 to 6
hours a night, every night. With this freedom, I went to where I was most
comfortable...underground.

    I wanted to find the hackers, the phreakers, the anarchists, the people in
the know. I didn't know the labels for these people, or any of the lingo, but I
wanted to find knowledge wherever it lurked. I was hungry in the worst way, and
in fact I have been hungry every since, but back then the sound of my modem
dialing would make my heart thump. I was an explorer in a new world, and I
could only imagine that DeSoto, or Vespucci, or any of the other explorers of
the New World would find their hearts thumping in the same way when they heard
their sails fill with wind.

    I found my underground, and I found that one of the few free things on the
internet was the information I wanted so badly, I just had to know where to
find it. My experiences with chat evolved quickly from Yahoo and Ichat to IRC
based chat. It was on IRC where I found my first true group of friends on the
net. And from there I was fed links to other places, some were to other
channels on the server, and some to websites. I found that if you really want
to know something, just find a community familiar with the subject, whether it
be an IRC channel, or a Forum, or a local group, then just be friendly and slip
in a request for a little info during the course of your conversations. The
important thing is not to jump into the middle of a community with a lot of
questions without establishing some repore with the regulars that lurk there.
Once I was given a tip about where to find my information, I just followed the
trail. I followed the links I was given and found some of my info there, but
better yet, I found keywords on the site on which I searched with to find other
sites with even more info, and I looked for links on those pages to find primo
info...and so on...and so on. Then I went back to the community I got the
original links from and shared my info with others. What I thought was the
underground didn't seem so underground anymore. It was suddenly accessable, and
better yet this thirst of knowledge and became a virus that needed to be
spread.

    So we come to the here and now: Spreading the virus. Spreading knowledge.
Spreading truth. Why don't you write something, and submit it to us at PA1N? If
you have an itch to do radio work, start a show for our friends at RantRadio 
( http://www.rantradio.com/ ). If you
don't have the means to voice your own thoughts, support those who do with 
monetary support or by word of mouth. Or just be availiable when the next 
newbie goes looking for knowledge in your dark corner of the net. Be the 
cool water that quenches their thirst.


-?------------?-----??----------??????????????????????-------------------?????-
PA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1
PA1Nv6x3 -----------------------------------------------------------------[ 3 ]
                     [ Project Loki Archives Part Three ]
                     [    alienbinary and Danger Girl   ]
[ 3 ]------------------------------------------------------------------PA1Nv6x3
1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NP
-?------------?---????????????-----------????????--------??????????????????----

            - ---- --- --------------------------------- --- ---- - 
         "I've always had a soft spot in my heart for creative crime"
                                        -- Jello Biafra
            - ---- --- --------------------------------- --- ---- - 


                         Loki Part 3: When Good ATMs Go Bad.

 Perhaps the greatest irony in the technically savvy world, is a predominate
overall weariness in trusting entirely to technology. Some of the best hackers
I know still refuse to turn over the spiral notebook for a PDA; one such person
citing the fact that anyone wishing to view the contents of the notebook would
have to negotiate with him, and his faithfull .44. A fourty-four is enough to
make even the most determined snoop change their resolve real fast. I digress.
So what of the majority who depend entirely on technology to run their lives?

    Well, of course this all depends on the import of the data or task at hand.
As I've explained before, many cultures around the world have a 'Loki' myth, in
which a god of mischief throws a proverbial wrench in the works just to keep
people on their toes. If people get reminded frequently that they must maintain
other skills as well, they stand a better chance of survival in the long run,
should something go wrong, and beleive me, it will. As a matter of fact, I was
in the mall near my school today, when I noticed a DOS prompt open on an ATM,
with several extremely agitated would-be customers looking about nervously, all
contending to the other "it wasn't me!" I think the most perplexing part of all
for these poor bastards who relied entirely on these machines to regulate their
digital wallets, was when I pulled out a palm pilot, and took several pictures
of the ATM in various states of a kernel crash. Those pictures of course, are
now online for your viewing pleasure.

            http://thorn.e-lite.org/loki/atm/kerncrash.jpg
            http://thorn.e-lite.org/loki/atm/static1.jpg
            http://thorn.e-lite.org/loki/atm/static2.jpg
            http://thorn.e-lite.org/loki/atm/atmbios.jpg
            http://thorn.e-lite.org/loki/atm/atmreloading.jpg
            
    And what about marquee signs? Frighteningly, this one was a crashed LED
board sign in a train station.

            http://thorn.e-lite.org/loki/atm/marquee.jpg
    
                         Loki Part 3: The Writing on the wall. 
                                
    It seems that everyone has something to say. Seeing as our corporate
controlled media, our own government, and especially our school systems don't
encourage people to express themselves, graffiti is the most obvious answer.
Like the first project loki archives, this one's full of bush bashing,
political propaghanda and even some straight up artwork.

    One of my favorite peices that I found has no real political connotation
that I can discern off the top of my head, but I find it to be intriguing
nonetheless. I always think that the cityscape is greatly improved when we have
some eye candy to feast on. It may happen to be vandalism, but it's definitely
art to me. I don't think I'd go as far as to say I condone this, if I did, I'd
paint my own signatures for people to see. But still, it's a sign of things to
come when the writing on the walls is so carefully planned and so artistically
rendered, it's impossible to discount as a simple juvenile action. I think
instead, it's a sign that people want to be heard. To start off with, one of my
favorite pictures is a sillhuoette of a man in a blue zoot suit. It's simple,
yet beautiful. 

            http://thorn.e-lite.org/loki/wotw/bluesuit.jpg
            
    One of the things that I'm always fascinated with, is how people seem to
immediately take up new and unusual ways to depict our leaders. Here's a fun
one I found in an alley between newbury and boylston.

            http://thorn.e-lite.org/loki/wotw/bush2.jpg
            http://thorn.e-lite.org/loki/wotw/bush1.jpg
            
    This wouldn't be much of a rantradio zine without at least one peice of
"become the media" propaghanda. I found this one near the campuses of Emerson
College and Berkelee School of Music, and it was already dark. I think I had to
use a zippo lighter to get the aperture to register, but it was a while ago, so
I don't remember for sure. Anyway, here's a picture of a spook in a suit and a
spiffy hat with "seize the airwaves" splashed across the picture. Have a
looksie.

            http://thorn.e-lite.org/loki/wotw/seize.jpg
            
            
    Cryptic messages are often the most disturbing, because of their perplexing
nature. Sometimes I'll see things written on a wall, and I'll just puzzle over
it for a little while. In this case, it was a blue marker slogan in script, on
the drywall in South Station. The caption reads, "art is dead." The second
picture is from the same location, but as Danger Girl pointed out, the order is
wrong. Ready, Fire, Aim... 

            http://thorn.e-lite.org/loki/wotw/deepstuff.jpg
            http://thorn.e-lite.org/loki/wotw/ready.jpg
            
    And last but not least, here we go to find a really funny placed picture.
Not only was the message funny, but I found this one on the trash can of a
starbucks bathroom in downtown Boston. There's nothing like fucking with latte
sucking corporate execs when they're trying to take a load off. So, are you
happy?
    
            http://thorn.e-lite.org/loki/wotw/smileasshole.jpg
            
            
                        Until next time, watch your toes. 
                                Loki's on the prowl.
            
-?------------?-----??----------??????????????????????-------------------?????-
NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA
PA1Nv6x4 -----------------------------------------------------------------[ 4 ]
                     [    Knives have feelings too.    ]
                     [          alienbinary            ]
[ 4 ]------------------------------------------------------------------PA1Nv6x4
PA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1
-?------------?---????????????-----------????????--------??????????????????----

    When I worked serving coffee, at a large chain that won't be named, I once
found myself in a precarious position because some people are a little too
obtuse for their own good. You have to understand that I was working as a
demi-supervisor, I wasn't in charge officially, but most of the tasks were left
up to me, and they involved everything from putting away hundreds of pounds of
coffee beans to handling the pastries and cakes. My job, basically, required
all the help I could get. 

    The thing about working in a large chain store, is that you can't rely on
management one hundred percent to remember various key items. In this case,
someone had forgotten to order those paper mats that are put down in the metal
display trays, to be shown off in the pastry case. Those mats are required by
law, not using them would be a breach of both company code and health code. As
I was the one charged with the task, I was going to do it right. Seeing as I
didn't think anyone was in the store, I reached under my apron, past the black
shortsleeve naval BDU shirt I was wearing and unsheathed a rather simple neck
knife. This knife was on a chain around my neck, out of sight of the customers,
and not really doing anything at all that would cause alarm. After all, it's
just a tool. The second I put the black blade to what little matting I had left
to work with, the sounds of rending paper was enough to cause an elderly couple
to look up and check out the source of the disturbance. I smiled politely, and
went back to what I was doing, namely: my job. I cut careful sections out,
measuring them against the trays, and got the job done fairly quickly. I was
rather pleased with myself, so I looked up with a sort of complacent
satisfaction, only to be greeted by looks of disgust mixed with fear. All of
the sudden, I had transformed in these people's eyes from some college kid
running a coffee shop, to a disturbed kid who carried weapons and probably did
unspeakable things after hours. 

    I thought this was really peculiar. Right next to me, when I had taken out
the neck knife, was a two foot bread knife with serrations, oddly curved giving
it an asian-style look and feel, even though the croissant crumbs should have
given away what it was. The thing directly opposite the bread knife, on the
other side of me, was a very unclean looking, rusty box cutter. The irony of
this situation was really striking. If I had used the bread knife, I would have
been fine in the eyes of the customers, but they wouldn't realize that the
paper would get caught in the serration, meaning that the next person to order
a bagel would have wax paper to digest as well; yet if I had used the
boxcutter, rust and what looked an awful lot like the sort of stuff I can only
call crap would have rubbed off onto the paper, leaving a trail of grime that
would almost indefinitely get several people sick, and once again, violate the
health code. 

    Somehow, these people held a cultural stigma that suggested that a work
knife, worn around the neck, used in a perfectly appropriate situation was a
reason to be distraught. I imagined that they were afraid I was going to demand
their wallets or something equally rediculous. I wanted to call out to them,
and relay a couple of thoughts, namely, if I was the sort of person to hold up
an elderly couple, I wouldn't be a java jockey by day. According to statistics
I've read, armed robbery pays much better.

    But why, more importantly, did these people get all in a fuss over a work
knife? Look at the name of the instrument WORK knife. The thing was meant to be
used in positions like the one mentioned above. A neck knife is worn around the
neck, at least outside of combat, because it's easily accessed for any
potentional use that might require a blade. The gentleman in question, to
further drive home the point, looked about seventy to ninety years old. (I'm
sorry, after a certain age, I stop counting.) I'm sure it would be a safe bet
that when he was my age, a million years ago, he probably carried some shitty
buck knife in his pocket, just like every other kid. It's only in the last
thirty years that everyone has become so chickenshit that anything that could
be used to cause harm is immediately villified.

                                    [ tradition ]

    Last year for Christmas, a friend of mine had called a company in Nevada,
which subcontracts to Kami Sherpas in the Himalayan mountains. For about a
month, they worked on a Khukuri with a six inch blade and consecrated it for
me, and me alone. That knife is one of the most sacred possessions I own, and
by no means is it something I'd use as a weapon. It is, however, a traditional
knife from a region of the world where some of my favorite philosophy comes
from, and I do wear it around my waist when I meditate. For the rest of the
time, I have to leave it on display. The nepalese name for this particular size
is "Kagus Katne," translated, "Paper Cutter." That's how small it is.
Yet, since it's fashioned after a battle weapon, I can't bring it anywhere, 
and it gets very little use. 

    If people understood the tradition behind knife-making and swordsmithing,
perhaps they would see the art that exists, and the amazing cultural treasure
trove that exists in every well made peice. A samurai sword is made in
different sections, the blade takes several months to forge, as it's tempered
from layer after layer of bent over steel. The blade is made virtually
indestructable because each time a new layer is folded into the blade, the
ability to take a heavy impact is heightened. If a swordsmith making one of
these blades should make a mistake, he or she must start fresh, unlike the
katanas you can buy off the racks of army surplus stores for about fifty bucks.
A machine made blade is so weak in comparison, that a swordfight using a real
samurai sword and a machinemade knockoff is all but impossible, because with
the first parry, the katana is likely to be cut in half. A legitimate samurai
sword is strong enough to cut through steel, and not show any wear for it,
either.

    In the Himalayas, a sword known as a Tarwar has been made for hundreds of
years, possibly and probably thousands. The Kami Sherpa once again, makes this
sword by hand, fashioning it in the tradition passed down to him generation
after generation. These weapons are the choice primary battle weapons of the
Ghurkas, next to the Khukuri. They are not to be scoffed at, ever. Upon
completion of the Tarwar, the sherpa monks consecrate the sword as belonging
exclusively to the person it's made for, and in some cases a blood rite is
performed, a very old tradition predating most european traditions entirely.
The Tarwar is always made unique, no scabbard is interchangeable. For every
scabbard, there is only one sword to match it, and that's the sword it was made
for.

    With so much history entrenched in the making of knives and swords, and
such a long rich tradition, I have a serious problem with people who cannot
recognize these peices as art. In Japan, a sword is passed on from family to
family, if you're lucky enough to have a family sword. It's the most precious
heirloom, and it connects each member of the household to the generations
before them.

                                    [ just a tool ]
                                    
    I have yet to see a person hassled by law enforcement agents for
brandishing a ballpoint pen, or even a hammer for that matter, unless these are
used innappropriately. It would take a real twisted individual to do so, I
should add. So why is it, that carrying a knife is considered outlandish and
discouraged? A knife is a tool, like a screwdriver or a pair of scissors. Some
of the most amazing misconceptions about "weapons" revolve around knives. For
one, the machete was invented to clear the brush and hack vines, allowing
people traversing the jungles to get from one place to another. Contrary to
popular beleif, it wasn't invented to dice up unsuspecting people the way they
might be used in a movie. 

    And how do you suppose fishers, living off what they catch, are supposed to
seperate the gills from the meat, if they can't have a fillet knife? Next time
you see a short handle with a long blade slightly recessed, that's thinner than
the hilt, realize that it's probably not a weapon you're looking at, it's a
fucking fillet knife. Unless you're a fish, I wouldn't occupy yourself with
worrying about it. Yes, they can do damage, but then again, so can cinder
blocks; and very few people I know are afraid of their own houses, let alone
get harrassed for possession of such a large quantity of these dangerous
concrete blocks. To do so would be fucking rediculous. 

    So why, exactly, can't I open a pocket knife to trim my bootlaces without
some person moving to the other side of the room, or jumping slightly. Why is
the click of a lockblade so scary to the average person, that it makes more
sense to carry an xacto knife than a pocket knife, regardless of the fact that
xacto knives have extroardinarily limited uses.

    What I'm trying to say is very simple. Ever since early man banged a rock
against something, or chipped flint to make a spear, people have carried
knives. Blades are useful for survival, they have the exact opposite purpose
that most people imagine. So after reading all this, I hope that you won't get
all hot and bothered the next time you see someone going about their business,
who happens to have a knife on their belt. If you do however get all worked up,
remember that you've just read thousands of years of history on blades, and
anyone who calls you on your reaction is justified in pointing it out as sheer
idiocy. 

????---?-----??----------??????????????????????-------------------?????--------
A1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1N
PA1Nv6x5 -------------------------------------------------------------[ fiv.e ]
                   [    New Years: First Plight, Boston    ]
                   [                 alienbinary           ]
[ 5 ]------------------------------------------------------------------PA1Nv6x5
A1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1N
-?------------?---????????????-----------????????--------??????????????????-???

                                        2003
                                        
    Today, the day I write this is New Year's Eve. I'm writing this on the MBTA
subway system, trying but failing to clear my head of what I can see and hear
around me. Tonight, people of every demographic will drink under the auspices
of recounting all that's happened in the year 2003, they will intoxicate
themselves beyond repair, hoping against hope that they can wash away the sins
and tragedies of the passing year. Tonight, more than usual will be ignored by
the corporate media. In the early morning, editors will try to rouse themselves
from bed, and put together a montage of clippings from the previous night's
celebrations, coupled with stock footage and photography of indeterminate year;
vainly trying to cover up the effects of the world wide party.

    Not a single one of them will have the integrity to publish the real
forecast for the New Year, which should read 

            Forecast for the New Year: 
            
            "bleached and burned skies, a touch of fallout and 
            more carcinogen baths in the stratasphere." 
            
            They should print an honest horoscope, too: 

            Universal Horoscope for all Star Signs: 
            
            "Your star signs are all pointing to nothing good. Don't 
            expect too much from the New Year," 
            
            ...oh and...
            
            "you don't have lucky numbers you sheep.
            if you did, thousand upon thousands of 
            people would be winning something every day."
            
    The obituaries won't cover all the vagrants who will have died tonight,
because they don't have enough ink. They might have enough paper if everybody
starts writing on the backs of singles, though.

    Tonight, vendors will swarm in from Rhode Island and New Hampshire with
cars and aerostars brimming with petty contraband. Almost Everything is illegal
in Mass. Fireworks, firecrackers, wrist rockets and low grade knives aren't the
only products to feel the rub, either. Here in Boston, I have to show a
govenment issue picture ID to purchase spraypaint, large permanent markers and
even high pressure CO2 cannisters. That has done nothing, however to keep such
items off the streets. I feel confident in saying that Boston is only second to
New York in it's fence dealings and black markets on the  North East Coast.

    This of course, reaches endemic proportions when you have a holiday whose
purpose is to have a bigger party than anyone else you know. I don't judge
these dealers of corny contraband, though. I must admit it saves me the cost of
import to aquire certain essentials. Tonight, however, these laws will reveal
their origins as children die from high-powered pellet gun wounds or drunk
driving. All it takes to spot a street vendor who will buy you booze is a quick
check to see if they sell ampules of ammonium sulfide, otherwise known as glass
stink bombs. The smell released from the oxygenation of one of those bastards
is enough to cause respiritory arrest in sensitive lungs. That being said,
anyone selling that garbage tonight probably doesnt have scruples with
providing alcohol to minors.

                                    2004
                                    
    It's a little later now, and it's the year 2004. Nothing's changed really,
except the date. Regardless, by now, many of those kids I wrote about getting
alcohol illicitly are probably at the hospital, because they took the car out
for a spin. In the time since the ball dropped, hundreds of people have
probably hung themselves, too afraid to face another year on this hellish rock.
And I, I'm still here. Just another stupid New Year, during which we'll face
tragedy and terror, and maybe, just maybe, a little tiny peice of respite. You
never know, though. This year could be unlike all it's predecessors, and be a
good one. I wouldn't, and don't plan to, hold my breath though.

                  Later in 2004, Day of Issue 6 Release 
                  
    It's a few days after the New Year. I have a few interesting peices of
aftermath to share with everbody regarding the celebration on New Years Eve and
First Night, (a Boston celebration with lots of fanfare and innebriation.)

    First of all, it seems that a team of master Japanese ice sculptors were
preparing a castle, carving away at solid blocks of ice with chainsaws a full
day ahead of schedule. Unfortunately for them, they managed to only recreate
Edgar Allen Poe's "The Fall of the House of Usher." It was a really warm day,
comparatively, and nature isn't an art critic. We all know that Farenheight 32
degrees is when ice begins to freeze. I beleive nature had it around 40 degrees
that night, and celebrants were just able to see the collapse of what was
supposed to be one of the most daring and complex structures yet for the "First
Night" Celebration. I can't say I think this is great, but it's kind of funny.
It strikes me as odd that no one thought to introduce a coolant like liquid
nitrogen or oxygen onto the sculpture. Both oxygen and nitrogen are naturally
occurring, and after the celebration was over, they would evaporate and go into
the atmosphere without incident. In fact, anyone with 100 bucks could have gone
down to the fire station located approximately three miles from the site, and
purchased a sizeable fire extinguisher with a CO2 charge. Those suckers will
freeze the shit out of anything. Regardless, they didn't and Poe got to laugh
in his grave again. Poor Usher.

    On a far less lighthearted note, it took only two or three days for the
first violent murder, homicide one, I think, to happen in the town of Worcester
(I'm not sure of the town, I'm ambiguous on the details), but there was an
actual drive-by shooting the first of January, aimed at no conceivable target,
but a bullet did strike an infant. This was in Dorchester, Massachussetts. I
saw this headline while riding the commuter rail, emblazoned on the front page
of the Metro. My stomach fell when I read that. What sick fuck opens fire at an
infant? If they catch the assailant, and I fear they won't, I hope the bastard
gets "reeducated in the dangers of playing with firearms." In the words of the
immortal Rollins Band:

            "I'd like to Know how you'd live your life without 
            hiding behind a gun-- because I know how I have 
            to live mine, because you have one." 
            
                                -- Rollins Band, "Civilized" 
                                
    That sort of sums it up for the New Year. I think we can expect to have our
streets remain unsafe until people start taking care of their own backyards. I
think we can expect poverty and social stratification to reach epidemic
proportions until we raise minimum wage and stop forcing people into slums. I
expect to see more war and more devastation, and I don't anticipate being able
to stop it. Happy New Year.


-?------------?-----??----------??????????????????????-------------------?????-
PA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1
PA1Nv6x6 -----------------------------------------------------------------[ 6 ]
                       [      Protect Hate       ]
                       [   the White Rabbit      ]
[ 6 ]------------------------------------------------------------------PA1Nv6x6
1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NP
-?------------?---????????????-----------????????--------??????????????????----

    Recently, I saw something on a message board that I frequent that disgusted
me even more than the usual flaming and snarkiness.  A while back, a user, who
we'll call Chris, was discovered to be into white supremacy.  Chris never
mentioned it on the board, linked to it, or even showed it in any way, but he
had a few websites with decidedly racist content.  Chris was summarily banned
from the board, without so much as a word.  At this point, there was nothing
wrong with any of this.  It was the owners' board, and they had the right to
disallow anyone they saw unfit.

    But, of course, it didn't end there.  Immediately, people started digging
up information on Chris.  They started several threads dedicated to him, about
finding out his personal details, pictures of him, even posting his home
address.  Several people even stated openly, although I'm sure they were
exaggerating, that they would do us all a favor and kill Chris if they had the
chance.  They claimed that we don't need hate-filled people like him in this
world.

    Surprisingly, no one objected to any of this, and no one seemed to see the
glaring hypocrisy.

    So, let's see if we can summarize their position: "Hate is wrong!  It's
evil to hate other people because of their skin color, culture, sexual
orientation, or beliefs!  You should love other people and shouldn't hate
anyone!  People who
hate other people are the scum of society!  We HATE those guys!"

Does that make any goddamn sense to anyone else?

    Now, let's be clear.  I'm no racist.  I think everyone has the potential to
be a decent person no matter what their skin color.  I also happen to think
racists are wrong in their beliefs.  But you know what?  I don't want really
want my non-racist opinions forced on anyone else, even a racist.

    There's a movement in our society, one that I believe will one day succeed,
to ban so-called hate speech.  Hate speech, loosely defined, means anything
that    advocates, promotes, or incites hatred or discrimination.  Everyone
already knows about hate crimes as well.  If it can be proved that you
committed a crime because of hate, you can get a more severe punishment under
hate crime laws.

    What the fuck is going on here?  The same people that claim to want to be
free to live their lives the way they want are the same ones who believe people
shouldn't be allowed to hate.  They claim to love and support diversity, but
they don't want diversity of thought.  In other words, you can believe whatever
you want to believe--unless they think it's wrong. 

    Isn't this the same thing the religious right has been getting their brains
beat out about for years now?  How often do you hear about "evil" religious
leaders trying to criminalize things that they deem immoral?  All the fucking
time, and it's obviously wrong, but this issue is a two-way street. If it's not
okay for that side of the spectrum to do it, then it's not okay for the other
side to do it either. 

    No matter what you might think of racists or homophobes or religious
zealots, ask yourself this:  Is it really right for us to punish these people
because we think their beliefs are wrong?  Would you want to be thrown in jail
because you wrote something the government said was immoral? Shouldn't
everyone, as long as they're not physically hurting anyone, be free to think
and believe as they see fit?  Shouldn't everyone be free to express their
thoughts and opinions without fear of physical harm or government reprisal?

    Let's be realistic.  If it becomes a crime to express hate, should we
really believe that it will end there for all time?  What if it leads to
banning "anti-American" speech?  Or books and movies that have violence in
them?  Or simply discussing illegal drugs?  What if you couldn't even legally
write a fantasy in your own diary?

    Well, wake up, folks.  If you're a high school student, you can now be
prosecuted for writing the words "I will blow up the school."  It doesn't
matter if you write them in a fictional essay or not.  You can go to jail for
merely writing the fucking words!  

    Hang on for a moment while I knock on the coffin of George Orwell, author
of 1984.  Knock, knock, George, you're a fucking prophet.

    There's one more thing I'd like to say about hate.  One of the biggest
things you'll hear preached today is that hate isn't something we're born with,
that it's learned.  They claim that it's something, that if you shield your
precious babies from, they'll never pick up.

    Well, I'm calling bull-fucking-shit on that one.  Hate is just like any
other negative emotion human beings carry.  Most men would like to fuck a
beautiful woman they see walking down the street.  But would those same men
rape that woman just because they feel that urge?  Hell no.  Because of a
little thing we have called brains, we have the capacity for abstract thought
and the ability to choose not to do evil, even if a part of us wants to.

    We all feel hate at some point in our lives, whether it be rational or
irrational.  Just like other negative emotions, it's one that we can choose to
succumb to or one that we can choose to overcome.  But to deny that you feel it
or to claim that people can rid themselves of it entirely only makes you
something else--naive. 

    Hate, like every other emotion, both good and bad, is part of what makes us
human.  We're born with it.  It's part of our fucking evolution, people. Our
ancestors had to learn the hard way that the strange-looking critter they'd
never seen before just might bite their faces off if they fucked with it.  Some
part of that is still with us today.

    You can't have free speech halfway.  The first amendment wasn't written to
protect popular speech.  If you can be prosecuted for thinking one thing, it
won't be long before you can be prosecuted for another. As insane as it might
sound, if we want to protect our right to think and express whatever opinions
we hold for generations to come, one of the first things we must do is this:

                                Protect hate.

????---?-----??----------??????????????????????-------------------?????--------
PA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1
PA1Nv6x7 -----------------------------------------------------------------[ 7 ]
                     [ Stream of Consciousness Montage ]
                     [            alienbinary          ]
[ se7en ]--------------------------------------------------------------PA1Nv6x7
NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA
-?------------?---????????????-----------????????--------??????????????????-???

    A stream of consciousness is the record of a thought process. In
literature, these often take the form of prose. Many streams of consciousness
turn into poetry later on, serving as thumbnail sketches for the poet. For me,
they're just entries in a diary, things I look down and notice I've written
where I should have been taking notes. The following is a compilation of
several stream of consciousness writings. If at any point you find yourself
lost or confused, then you probably have the right mood. The majority of these,
if not all of them, were written during various states of depression.

    My fingers are stained from nicotine. The room is filled with empty soda
cans and bottles of water. On my writing desk I have more electrical equipment
than some people have teeth. Interspersed with these various devices are
countless bottles of various household chemicals I seem to use on a daily
basis. Peroxide, Isopropynol, Petroleum Distillate... the list is really long.
And it's probably of no interest. There's ink and tape, empty packs of clove
cigarettes; I have no idea how much junk has accumulated on my desk.

    I think back to how it got this way, and the only word I can settle on is
"vice." A vice is the sort of thing we all avoid when everyone else is looking,
but we flock to when no one seems to care. Society only frowns on the drug
addict who uses in public, and no one cares if you smoke in the comfort of your
own house. That's what it boils down to then, loneliness. I sit in front of the
screen, my iBook elevated on a podium, and I write everything that crosses my
mind. I don't know why I do it, either, I think it's just another addiction.

    Ironically, six inches away from the frame of my laptop screen hangs a
sticker I stuck to the wall, with a classic rabbit ear TV set in the circle
with a slash symbol indicating "no," with a caption reading "Fight TV
addiction." Ten inches or so away from that sticker, and only a few away from
the monitor I write this on, is a DVD drive with a DVD-ROM loaded; another vice
I seem to have picked up in the last few weeks.

    Some people say, if you do anything at all, you should do it fanatically.
Never do anything half-assed or part way. I think I may have taken that sort of
advisory too seriously. I find myself drawn here, to my own personal temple,
every night. I type away on the keys and try and form sentences that match the
way I feel, hoping to finally produce a peice of writing that I can show to
someone, and have them understand who I am... Odd, that last sentence sounds
like such a teenage angst statement, I'm almost ashamed enough to get rid of
it. 

    Shame, now that's a bad habit everyone can relate to. There are so many
taboos, most of which I seem disinclined to pay attention to anymore, that it's
hard not to feel a little bit ashamed of at least one thing you do a day. In a
society that's so blame-happy and eager to flip the switch, we all still beat
ourselves up in the process.

                                            time passes...

    Hissing in the back of my mind. The back burners of amino acids protest
their dissent. Scream, just scream. There's no one here to hear you, this is
not a forum. This colluseum has been condemned and so have I. The dead man has
no voice. Rigor mortis is a bastard function of an otherwise inert body. These
post-mortem transcriptions are faulty, they suggest that there is life in this
corpse.

    Underneath my ribcage, the glistening and exposed jungle gym of wet
stonework exposes no heart. There's a ticket stub. "Return this ticket,"
followed by the numbers 9874329123. There's no inscription on the tab to shed
light on what was pawned. Hazard if I must, I'd suggest a portion of my spine,
for this autonomous part of my once befleshed torso can't but remain untainted.
My heart, as I'm told was once there, is blackened and oxygen-starved.

    A breath of fresh air was all I wanted, but the air could no longer hold up
the facade I myself had waived. It was and remains -- as the weather has found
out -- that the ability to stay pure is impossible, because purity must be
present prior to the tarnishing.

                    time passes...

    The exam begins in 30 minutes. I sit and wonder why I'm here, alone, in an
empty classroom. I've spent so much of my time here, learning about the great
American dead poets; their work and the lives they lead while they were still
breathing. If my life is to mean a microcosm of that which Ralph Waldo Emerson
lived, shouldn't I, too, reject this predigested material? I feel like I should
be pulling a Jesus, and turning over tables, calling out heresy.    

    These people, they speak in my tongue, but not in my language. Who do they
see when they look at me? A punk? A wasted life? Or do they see another person,
treading water, trying to survive? I don't think they see at all. It reminds me
of the shirt Danger Girl gave to me for Christmas this year. It's woodland
camo, and says "Ha! Now you can't see me."  

    Sometimes, sarcasm's the only way to survive.
    
                                                            time passes...

    It's cold in here and my stomach hurts. I haven't been eating right lately.
I went down to the health clinic to inquire about a flu shot. The influenza
vaccine is becoming the new tickle-me-elmo or the razor scooter of the holiday
season. I didn't know that I even qualified for the procedure until this
morning. It's a moot point though, it really is. After all, they only ordered
30 innoculations for the entire campus. Sometimes I think that God has an odd
sense of humor about medicine, one that he adopts in order to survive the
scientific revolution that everyone thinks we're undergoing. This is no
revolution though. This is a slaughter.

    I'm complaining about food, yet I could probably find something to eat in
the drawers of this writing desk, while at the same time, some kid in former
Albania is most likely dying of thirst or starvation at this very minute. I try
to feel for the kid, like you're supposed to when they show them on television
to get you to adopt a foreign child; you know, the "pennies a day program."
Those piss me off more than anything. It makes me hate the person holding up
the child. Some of those peices shit call themselves humanitarians,
volunteering to save others, blah blah... yet they can still afford an Armani
scarf. Fuck you, Sally Struthers. 

    Fuck all of you celebrities who donate money because you pretend to give a
shit. I hate the calvinists, but I might side with Johnathon Edwards on this
issue: it's better to stay at home and not go to church, and be honest about
it, than it ever is to go to church woefull of another lost sunday, praying
without your heart. When I see these bloodless, uncaring bastards on the
television, or in newspapers, I want to burn the media the image came through
on. I'm sick of being talked down to by a fucking machine.

            time passes...

    Cold is an adjective for which there can be no precise description, every
synonym seems to fall short of the proper feeling. Although I write this at a
train station, tapping away on my palm, I'm not describing myself, nor myself
in relation to my immediate surroundings.

    Instead, I think of my friends on the streets right now. You see, I do
volunteer work with the homeless of Boston. I suppose that's a slight
misstatement; I simply spend time with MA's disenfranchised, disabled and
downtrodden; in order that they might escape destruction- emotionally at least.

    I walk the streets and I scout out the homeless who aren't too hardened and
fortified against society to desire company- and that's what I give them. In
addition to food and whatever money I can spare without inadvertently finding
myself homeless, too, I give them my time. And right now, although none such
person is in my immediate proximity, I can't not wonder at how my friends are
doing. Mother always says don't talk to strangers, just as the media tells you
to ignore independent sources; yet I have learned more from homeless people,
veterans and as mentioned, independent media than the straight world has ever
taught me. In fact, the only reason I can stand the cold right now is because
of tips garnered from my nomadic friends.

                                time passed.
                                PA1N e-zine Issue #6 Continued.


????---?-----??----------??????????????????????-------------------?????--------
PA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1
PA1Nv6x8 -----------------------------------------------------------------[ 8 ]
                     [     Eulogies in Cyberia      ]
                     [             Mephyt           ]
[ h.eight ]------------------------------------------------------------PA1Nv6x8
NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA
-?------------?---????????????-----------????????--------??????????????????-???


    Doing the usual thing, day to day, week to week, month to month. This is
the same Death that we all seem to�settle into eventually. 

    I have recently began to think about my own mortality, my own life, and
death. I realize that they are about as intertwined as anything could possibly
be, but at the same stretch they are worlds apart. I don't believe in anything
that
could be an afterlife, so my actions now will be my eternal reflection. The way
that i will be remembered, or forgotten after I have died. The way that people
see things now, or later. 

    I try to live my life the best I possibly can. I don't show undue hatred
for anyone, nor do I give half an effort when I say I will do something. I try
to always help a friend in need out, whenever I can, even if it happens to be
detrimental to myself. I try to give as much as I can to those that I care
about, and I put myself on the line for them too. But, I often wonder whether
doing this, will make any difference at all in life. Will the amount that I
have screwed up make up for this in any respect? Will it all eventually balance
out and just drop off the record books? I look at how everything has progressed
in my life, and how I have to try so hard to remember certain people. They were
people whom I had known for a day, a week, or years. Now I have to try to place
that name with a face. I have to wonder where I met them, or if I'll see them
again. Does it even matter?

    The reason this all began was because�of a website that I'd seen mentioned
in an IRC channel 

            http://www.livejournal.com/community/ljers4eternity/
            
    I began reading the site, glossing over some of the less interesting
entries, finding the one on the page that appeared to be the most humorous.
Then, I started to read the page. 

    It was simply a guestbook for the dead. A way to express the thoughts you 
have, and remember the people who have died. These are people whom most only
knew through the net. That were known for only a small portion of who they were
in real life. Some of them have a name, some only have a handle. But, they have
all been remembered for one thing or another. It showed that someone cared
about them. Many of them committed suicide. Actually, quite a number of them 
did. The most depressing thought is that they were around my own age. So many 
young people, never having the chance to reach maturity, never having the 
ability to truly love and lose. They were people that I may have seen on my 
way to work, or at the grocery store. These are people that I might have 
become good friends with. Maybe even fallen in Love with. These may be the 
people who I consider my friends now. 

    I look at my own life in restrospect and I can only ask myself, 'Am I
worthy of remembrance?'.

-?------------?-----??----------??????????????????????-------------------?????-
PA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1
PA1Nv6x9 ---------------------------------------------------------------[ N1N ]
                     [  Rantradio IRC, December 2003   ]
                     [           RantRadio IRC         ]
[ 9 ]------------------------------------------------------------------PA1Nv6x9
A1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1N
-?------------?---????????????-----------????????--------??????????????????----


        For those of you wondering why it is that I continue to 
    make archives of the bizarre, twisted, and often nonsensical 
    ramblings of the #rantradio channel, I'll explain a little. 
    First of all, I find some of the most fascinating peices of   NOTE FROM 
    information in the channel, probably because it's as if       OUR ALL- 
    everyone in the channel seems to think no one's looking. Of   KNOWING 
    course we all know that people make logs and transcripts,     LEADER,
    assholes like myself crop portions of conversations and put   ALIENBINARY. 
    them in zines, etc., but really, most of the time no one is 
    looking. With that in mind, it's not hard to see why people 
    just say whatever they're thinking in the chat.

        I know a lot of the things I transcribe, however, are 
    inane. That's because I think it's funny, and this is my 
    magazine, so I'll do whatever the fuck I damn well please-- 
    and it pleases me to extract some of the more peculiar 
    conversations in the channel and place them in this 
    annual segment of PA1N. 

------------------------------------------------------------[ hello... kitty? ]

            - ---- --- --------------------------------- --- ---- - 

    [ed. note: beleive it or not, this is not the first time I've heard a 
     detailed discussion involving a hello kitty vibrator. I knew a girl 
     once whose partner wanted one for christmas. - alienb ]

            - ---- --- --------------------------------- --- ---- - 

�zandad� i was sitting there comtemplating a new vibe

	
mephyt/#rantradio waves around his Dildo Of Op'liness

�zandad� one with lil bumps and shite
�MissConduct� lol
�zandad� this cute one i saw in the store
�mephyt� lol
�apanthropy� fucking vibrators.
�mephyt� HAHA
�mephyt� i KNEW IT
�mephyt� you be an addict now chicka

	
Violent_Solution/#rantradio carries a baseball bat over his shoulder and

sings she broke my heart... so i broke her jaw

	
zandad/#rantradio giggles

�mephyt� lol
�Soulphonate� I can give you the address to get a hello kitty vibrator
for
thirty bucks
�zandad� bleh
�zandad� hello kitty my ass
�zandad� i would feel so wrong using that
�Soulphonate� its goddamn cute
�mephyt� lol

-----------------------------------------------------------------[ one liners ]

�hohohokitten� haha i'm a ho three times over.

�Asktion� womens underwera only rules if youshave your balls.

�apanthropy� my main question is,   which came first?   Mothers' brand
cookies, or Grandma's brand cookies?


---------------------------------------------------------[ season's greetings ]

�MaryRebelledVirgin� i wanna play santa and mrs. clause w/ you
�Violent_Solution� lol
�[-Soultrance-]� w00t
�[-Soultrance-]� eat my milk and cookies

-------------------------------------------[ The Turnspike Webcam Merit Badge ]

�alienbinary� anyone seen turnspike around?
�Niacin� I think he's on the phone with somebody.
�alienbinary� lol, now that's precision. Thanks niacin
�Niacin� I'm kidding, I really have no idea.
�alienbinary� fuck. I wasn't unprepared to beleive you hacked his webcam
�apanthropy� hehe
�Niacin� I'm not that 31337.
�apanthropy� niacin = madd hax0r
�alienbinary� he has a few of em
�MissConduct� lol
�apanthropy� er, i mean, madd haxx0r
�apanthropy� two x's
�Niacin� I'm only 3133.  They haven't given me my 'gibson 0wnership'
merit badge yet.
�apanthropy� niacin --> mad l337 rare-ass trooperRS .. fix this fucker
up andyou've got something :) 
http://www.4x4wire.com/forums/showflat.php?Cat=&Number=412691&page=0&view=
collapsed&sb=5&o=14&fpart=1
�alienbinary� send me an article (shameless plug plug plug) and I'll send
you one hell of a merit badge
�alienbinary� tanned from the hide of a scientologist minister
�alienbinary� skinned with a prison shank toothbrush
�Niacin� For which zine?
�alienbinary� PA1N

---------------------------------------------------------[ I smell a scandal! ]


	
BusyMissy is now known as MissConduct
	
Alpha736|Shower is now known as Alpha736

�apanthropy� hmm... alpha was in the shower,  missy was busy... both
stopped at the same time
�apanthropy� doesn't take a genius to figure out what's happening there

????---?-----??----------??????????????????????-------------------?????--------
A1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1N
PA1Nv6x10 ------------------------------------------------------------[ t_E_N ]
                     [ De-obfuscating iPod's Filesystem ]
                     [             alienbinary          ]
[ 10 ]----------------------------------------------------------------PA1Nv6x10
A1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1N
-?------------?---????????????-----------????????--------??????????????????-???

            - ---- --- --------------------------------- --- ---- - 

    Disclaimer: This article is written entirely for the purpose of
entertaining and stimulating the minds of hardware enthusiasts like myself.
There is nothing in this peice that promotes the piracy of copyrighted
material, or the circumvention of copy-protection. The purpose of this article
is to solve a riddle that's baffled many iPod users, namely, "where the hell
are the files?"

            - ---- --- --------------------------------- --- ---- - 

    I got my first iPod the Christmas it came out. I don't know how the person
who bought it for me pulled it off, but they did. At the time, everyone was
clawing at eachother to get one before the shelves emptied. It was Apple
Computer's greatest holiday season up to that time. 

    I found my first dissapointment, though, when I realized there were
restrictions on the device. This device, the product of a company founded by
phone phreaks, was locked up, inaccessable to the average person. What
perplexed me was how when I double clicked on the iPod icon on the desktop, I
never saw the music on the device. There were two ways to store music on the
iPod, but only one of them allowed for free file transfer, but only the other
allowed you to access the music from the iPod's firmware. You couldn't have
both ways. 

    That was until Podmaster was released by someone whose name I can't
remember, and don't feel like looking up. On the screen, the application would
create a menu that would show an iPod-like interface, but would allow you to
transfer files to and from the iPod. Clearly, no one was too interested in
stopping this, because the program is still downloadable from any site offering
iPod utilities. 

    It wasn't long, however, before the RIAA began it's campaign of terror, I
mean litigation, that culminated in hundreds of lawsuits against people that
hadn't done anything so atrocious as to warrant the arrest or prosecution of
federal courts. After all, it's the time of file-sharing. Music by independent
musicians who wanted to just be heard embraced this technology, but the big
corporations feared it. 

    Unfortunately, the result of this sort of blanket litigation is that no one
can use the iPod to it's fullest capacity. There are remarkeably few utilities
out there to help manage the files in the iPod's system, and no one gets a
chance to use the device the way they want, even for the $300 to $600 USD they
spent on the thing. 

    Regardless, since then, there have been lots of articles detailing what the
iPod is, articles about it's relationship to the iProducts that apple keeps
churning out, including the newest, the iSight, but very few of them explain
how the stupid thing works. I'm not going to bother with the newest models for
this article, because I don't have a new model, and from what I've seen, they
don't much vary in filestructure.

    So here's the gist of it. the iPod is an external harddrive with a BIOS and
a rudimentary interface. Files are exchanged for playback using the iTunes
suite, or MusicMatch Jukebox by drag and dropping them into the icon displayed
in the application window. Files uploaded directly to the iPod will be
available upon docking, but they won't be playable during normal iPod function.
Here's why:
    
    The iPod has a two-fold filesystem for all intents and purposes. One is
partitioned as a removable media device, a portable harddrive that can transfer
files from computer to computer. But the other system is given over to
superuser priveledges. Without viewing invisible files, there's no way to find
the actual storage center for playback-ready music. Unless you were, to say,
open up terminal and change directory to /volumes/iPod/, substituting iPod for
the name of the device. From there, you can navigate the device like you would
any other harddrive, like this:

[localhost:docs/source/old projects] alienb% cd /volumes/halo/
[localhost:/volumes/halo] alienb% ls
Calendars                Desktop DF               TheVolumeSettingsFolder
Contacts                 Desktop Folder           Trash
Desktop DB               Icon?                    iPod_Control
[localhost:/volumes/halo] alienb% cd iPod_control
[localhost:/volumes/halo/iPod_control] alienb% ls
Device    Music     iPodPrefs iTunes
[localhost:/volumes/halo/iPod_control] alienb% cd Music

Now this is where it gets peculiar. When you do a simple "list" function
('ls',) you get a series of annoyingly obscure folders. The directories all
start with the letter "F", followed by a number designated by it's position on
the harddrive. 

[localhost:halo/iPod_control/music] alienb% ls
F00 F01 F02 F03 F04 F05 F06 F07 F08 F09 F10 F11 F12 F13 F14 F15 F16 F17 F18 F19
[localhost:halo/iPod_control/music] alienb% cd F00

    If you tell the terminal to list all the files, you'll get a listing of the
audio by filehandle, not ID3 tag. That's important, because this means that
only legitimately purchased songs can be identified without difficulty. This is
also a rather good thing for someone exploring the system, because it keeps you
in the same type of filestructure as linux, macosx, freebsd, xdarwin, etc.

    Now remember, this is just like any unix system. You have access
priveledges and you can move files. Unless you feel comfortable with the
command line, I wouldn't suggest manually moving files from here. Regardless,
that's not the purpose of this article, I'm simply stating how it works.
Because of the afforementioned antipiracy laws, I can't, without worrying about
the run-amock RIAA, explain how to retrieve files from your iPod, even if your
system breaks down and you legitimately own the files. If that's your
intention, you can search for a FAQ on how to do that on google, and find
plenty of hits to satisfy your needs, as much as I don't like the idea, I have
to respect the law prohibiting the dissemination of information on how to
circumvent copy-protection. 

    The only reason I would publish that info anyway, if such a law weren't in
effect, is for the purpose of showing a "neat trick." Problem is, no one has a
sense of humor anymore. Profit has driven all the fun out of the industry, and
even now, as people are afraid for their livelihoods that the RIAA will come
crashing through their door, the companies they represent suffer as a result
due to an ensuing hatred of the industry caused by arrogant lawsuits.

-?------------?-----??----------??????????????????????-------------------?????-
PA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1
PA1Nv6x11 -----------------------------------------------------------[ ELeVEN ]
                    [  The Public Suicide of R. Budd Dwyer ]
                    [               Turnspike              ]
[ 11 ]----------------------------------------------------------------PA1Nv6x11
A1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1N
-?------------?---????????????-----------????????--------??????????????????----
 
                            --------------------------
                            
                              Preface by alienbinary.
                   
			A lot of consideration went into whether the clip to this 
			event would be linked to in the issue. Neither Turnspike, 
			nor myself, wanted to glamorize the suicide of a man who 
			was already bathed in shame, head to toe. There is a link 
			at the conclusion of this article, and I urge you to consider 
			not following it if you have a weak stomach. It's grotesque, 
			it's gory, and worst of all, it's real. This isn't a 
			re-enactment, it's the actual footage of his death. We chose 
			to link to it because there's historical value. I've seen 
			suicide's aftermath, I've seen it's evolution. I know what it 
			looks like, and before TS enlightened me as to who this man was, 
			I even saw this clip when I was about 14, on a Hotline Server. 
			However, this is a forum for reality and for busting through 
			the bullshit the media puts out. They can't cover up what they did,

			how they glamorized his suicide, and I hope the so-called 
			journalists were put out to dry for it. No one should see this 
			without a warning.
			
                            --------------------------


    The events that took place in the Pennsylvania statehouse on January 22,
1987 would be very familiar to the news junkie of the 21st century; a state
official caught in a bribery scandal, a court proceeding, and a big news
conference. But before the day was over the network cameras would broadcast the
most brutal video ever to be seen live by a television audience, whether they
were ready for it or not.

    R. Budd Dwyer was convicted on December 18, 1986 with accepting bribes from
a company who was in return given a contract to calculate tax refunds for the
state. Dwyer was only one of many people involved with this scandal, but all
but Dwyer and GOP chairman Robert B. Asher were offered plea bargains. During
the trial, Dwyer's lawyer had virtually no defense, afraid that calling any
witness would just do more harm to Dwyer's case. He was said to be in a deep
state of depression following the conviction and he asserted that he was
framed, and didn't get a fair trial. The Sentancing phase would begin on
January 23, and he faced up to 55 years in prison and a fine of more than
$300,000 (which was the amount of the bribe he was accused of taking). In
addition to this, he would be removed from office and stripped off all his
benefits and pensions.

    Dwyer arranged to have a press conference on the eve before his sentancing,
and he was expected to resign from his office. He  entered the news conference
with an arm full of envelopes and started a long, stale, rambling speech,
loaded with details. After several minutes of this, some of the cameramen began
packing their equipment away, which prompted him to say "Those of you who are
putting your cameras away might want to stay because we're not finished yet".
Sensing that he couldn't hold his audience much longer, Dwyer skipped along in
his speech and began handing out some of the envelopes to the acting state
treasurer and his two aides and told them that they were instructions to be
read later. He passed one last envelope to an aide in which he said was to be
given to his own wife, Joanne. With this R. Budd Dwyer, Treasurer of the state
of Pennsylvania, took a large manilla envelope at the podium, and pulled a .357
Magnum revolver from inside. He tried to continue his speech at that point, but
was quickly drowned out by shouts, screams, and pleas to put the gun down. The
chaos caused Dwyer to wave his gun at the crowd and exclaim, "Don't! This will
hurt someone." After one last moment where I could only imagine that Budd
decided that he wasn't going to be able to finish his speech in the way he
prepared, he stuck the barrel of the Magnum in his mouth while looking for a
network camera, and when he found one to his right, he looked directly into the
lens and fired. 

    After his body dropped and lay slumped against the wall, gushing blood, the
media kept rolling video and taking snapshots. As the media continued to take
advantage of the carnage, an aide stepped in front of Dwyer's body and pleaded
with them to finish their footage and leave.The video feeds were sent to a half
dozen television stations, and stations such as WPXI in Pittsburgh and WPVI-TV
in Philadelphia aired the entire suicide to the shock of their audience,
whereas other media outlets showed only the video up to the point where Dwyer
fired, or at still photos.

    Later, the envelopes were opened and inside were Dwyer's organ donor card,
funeral plans, and a letter to the Governor which stated, "By the time you
receive this letter, the office of State Treasurer of Pennsylvania will be
vacant. I stress to you that I did not resign but was State Treasurer of
Pennsylvania to the end." 

    In the media frenzy that is today's news, what is to keep this from
happening again? How many times have we turned on the TV to see an Enron
executive, or a Worldcom president, or even a politician linked to a scandal
like Robert Torricelli stepping up to a podium to announce their resignation?
It seems to happen on a weekly basis, and the media circle like sharks. When
the next body hits the floor in front of the cameras, how many millions of
viewers will be watching, expecting drama, but getting horror? Nobody could
have expected Dwyer to do what he did, but everyone expected the news media to
be responsible enough not to show a gory suicide on daytime TV. Another reason
not to trust the media. Be your own damn filter.


Warning. The following link is to a clip of the actual video of the scene
depicted above. Unlike millions of viewers who had no warning as this played
out on live television, if you get easily upset by gore and violence, do not
click this link (6.5 MB): http://www.spfd2600.org/turnspike/budd.mpeg


-?------------?-----??----------??????????????????????-------------------?????-
PA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1
PA1Nv6x12 -----------------------------------------------------------[ tw3lve ]
                    [   Anatomy of an OSCAR network   ]
                    [             Nemisis             ]
[ 12_ ]---------------------------------------------------------------PA1Nv6x12
A1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1N
-?------------?---????????????-----------????????--------??????????????????----

        [ editor's note: see the Letter from the Editor on NOD.2 
        "Anatomy of an OSCAR Network" before reading this - alienb ]

The Servers

    Oscar has a single login aproach to things. Since there are multiple
services that AIM has to offer, they needed a way to have the user login
only once.

The Authorization Server

    Everything starts with the Auth server. When you want to connect to AIM,
your first connection is sent to the Auth server. When you connect AIM sends
a challange string, that you have to encode, along with the password, and

	
********* in MD5 encrpytion and send to the server. It does the same ting,

and compares the string. After you connect and go through the Authorization
proccess it gives you a cookie (Not food). This cookie is used as your 
password to get into any of the other AIM servers that you may want to use.

The BOS Server

    BOS stands for Basic OSCAR Services. This is the server that IMs and
buddylist info are sent on. Almost all oscar features can be accessed from
this server. After were done with the Auth server, we connect to the BOS 
server and send our cookie. Then we finish the login sequence, by requesting 
our rights, our buddylist, our rate limit, warning level, etc. And also by 
setting our info, and privacy features.

Server Redirections

    Server redirections are a standard OSCAR happening. You don't so much leave
one server for another, as you set up another connection. If you want to do
something aside from send IMs and use your buddylist normaly, chances are
you need to start a connection to another server. This is all part of the 
single login technique used with OSCAR. We request whatever server we want 
to start a connection too, and it sends us the servers IP. We connect to it 
and send our cookie. The proccess for connecting to a new server, is almost 
exactly the same as connecting to the BOS server. The diffrent servers are as 
follows.

The Chat Rights Server

    To gain access to the chat server, we send a packet to the BOS server that
requests a chat server. The BOS server responds with a Chat Server, and we
connect to it, and send our cookie. Then we go through the proccess of
setting up our rate limit etc with that. After all that is done, we send the 
request to create a chatroom, if the request is accepted, then we are 
allowed to create the chatroom. This request should be sent to the BOS 
server, and not the Chat Server. We will then recive yet another 
Chat Server from the BOS, and we will connect to that as well.

The Chatroom Server

    This server, after receiving it from the BOS server goes through the same
login proccess as the previous chat server. This is the server that sends us
messages from the room, and allows us to send messages to the room. (If we
disconnect from this server we will be shown to leave the room. If 
we set up the chatroom, and send the join command, and dont connect to 
the chatroom server we are still shown to join the room, and then leave it 
a few seconds or minutes later, this is known as Ghost Leave)

The E-Mail Server

    This server is used to update the email address. E-mail updating works like
this... You send the update email packet, and AIM sends a notification to
your current email address making sure it was you that sent the update email
request. If you respond to the email the request is cancled, if you don't,
after 72 hours it goes through and the email is updated.

The Password Server

    The password server is still used to update or change your password, even
though the newer AIMs now use a web based password change form. You send
your current password, and then what you want your password to be, and it
changes
it for you.

The Format Server

    This server allows you to format your name with spaces etc. You send what
you want your name to look like, and it either goes through, and you get an
Update Buddy packet showing your new name, or it doesn't work and you get an
error back.

The AD server

    This server is what sends the advertisement addresses for the images that
appear in your AIM. I have not really explored this server much because I
don't like ads.

Server Stored Information (SSI)

    For along time now, since around Windows AIM 2.5 the users buddylist has
been stored on the AIM server. As it has evolved, more and more information has
been stored on the AIM server. All of the info that is stored remotly, and
can be accessed by the client is SSI.

Buddylists

    The buddylist is one of the most complex parts of OSCAR. If your just
starting out, I don't recommend trying to tackle the buddylist until you are
very farmiliar with OSCAR, and decoding packets. Although I will try to explain
it fully here another good refrence for the Buddylist is kingant.net. The buddy
list belongs to family 13, this is the SSI family. Almost data that is
stored remotly about the client, takes place in family 13. The problem with the
buddylist, is that if it is big, (consisting of many screenames and or
groups) it is sent in more then more packet. The maximum size of a packet has a
length of 1414. So if the buddylist is larger then that, it overflows to the
next packet, and you have to put it back together yourself. This shouldnt be
too hard, because once you receive the first packet, you should know that the
rest are probably comming. They will not have FLAP or SNAC headers, it will
just continue from where it left off (at the same point as you would normaly
see
a character 42 (asterix)) Once you have the fully compiled buddylist, you need
to parse it. This is probably the hardest thing you can do. If your making your
own client, parsing the buddylist is not only the hardest thing you will
have to do (aside from file transfer and possibly direct connect) but its the
most important. When you parse the buddylist, you get more then just the groups
and screennames. You get the Group ID, Buddy ID, and Buddy Comments.

                            [ Glossary ]

Group ID - In order to know where to put the screennames you parse, you have to
look at the group id. Every group on your buddylist has an ID. When you parse
the buddylist for a screenname, you get the group ID, and you can put the buddy
in the group with that ID. If its a group that your parsing the group ID will
be that of the group. The buddy id for a group id 0 0 in decimal and 00 00 in
hex. As you may have figured out the Group ID is a two byte string.

Buddy ID - The buddy ID is also very important. Every screenname has a unique
buddy id. If a screenname apears on your buddylist twice, for each time it
apears it will have a unique buddy id. This is crucial because if you want to
remove a Buddy from your buddy list, not only to you have to send the name of
the buddy, but also the unique buddy id. (Because names can apear on your list
more then once in diffrent groups) Many Buddylist features require you to send
the Buddy ID and group ID as well. As you may have figured out, the Buddy ID,
like the group ID is a two byte string

Comments - After you get the Screenname, Group ID, Buddy ID, etc. You have some
additional information left over. This info can either be 0 0 in decimal/00 00
in hex, or it can contain some additional information such as the Comments you
have saved for this buddy.

Adding a group to the buddylist - If you want to save a new group to the
buddylist, you send the server the add group packet, and the name of the group,
and a unique group id.

Removing a group from the buddylist - If you want to remove a group (and all of
its contents) from the buddylist you send the remove group packet, the name of
the group, and then the group id.

Renaming a group on the buddylist - To rename a group on the buddylist you
simply send the name of the group, the name you wish you change it too, and
then the group id. The group ID does NOT change, although the name of the group
does.

Renaming a buddy - Renaming a buddy can be done using the same Family and Sub
type as renaming a group, and it follows the same protocol, name of the buddy,
name to change it too, and the buddy id. Again the buddyid does not change.
Although this method works, Windows AIM does not so much rename a buddy, as
delete it, and then add the new name. It is more efficent to rename it though.

Adding a Buddy to the buddylist - You send the add buddy packet, which includes
the name of the buddy, the group id, and then a unique buddy id. This can be
made up, as long as its not the same as any other buddyid or group id.

Removing a buddy from the Buddylist - If you want to remove a buddy from the
buddylist, you send the remove buddy packet, and include the name of the buddy,
its group id, and its unique buddy id.

Member Info - Member info is availible in two forms. The first being the
profile the user sends when they sign on. The second being the Directory into
that they set either the first time they sign on, or when they update there
profile. Both are easy to parse.

Getting the Profile - The profile can yeild some good info about the user. When
you request someones profile, you not only recive the profile, but how long
they have been online, there warning level, if there away, and how long they
have been away/idle.

Getting the Directory Info - The directory info is setup when the user signs on
for the very first time, and can be updated along with the profile. It can give
you things like the users first, and last name, address, zipcode, and nick
name. It is only availble if the user sets it up.


-?------------?-----??----------??????????????????????-------------------?????-
PA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1
PA1Nv6x13 ---------------------------------------------------------[ lucky 13 ]
               [   Whatever happened to Freedom of Speech?   ]
               [                alienbinary                  ]
[ onethree ]----------------------------------------------------------PA1Nv6x13
A1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1N
-?------------?---????????????-----------????????--------??????????????????----

    Freedom of Speech was once in the Constitution. I promise, it was once
agreed that as the very first ammendment to the Constitution of the United
States of America, protection of freedom of speech, religion and the press was
guaranteed. We've come a long way since then, unfortunately in the wrong
direction. 

    When I was younger, a little wannabe hax0r kiddie skating around the
internet, there were huge monolithic archives of information just waiting to be
accessed. None of these sites had passwords even, in the beginning, I mean. For
the most part, you could just log into these archives say hello to some
buddies, and set your download queue to transfer hundreds of pages of
information, free, no copy-right, just public domain stuff. Good stuff, too.
The Cult of the Dead Cow Communications, for example. Some of the most haunting
stories I've ever read are short-horror from cDc Comm. There were ezines for
every platform, every interest, and most of all, there was a sense of
community. 

    At the time, I don't know how many of us knew we would later be villified
as purveyors of knowledge, painting such an activity as a bad thing. I read
about a kid who received several years in jail, however, because he had in his
vast library of anarchist-cookbook like texts, amidst real information,
instructions on assembling pipe-bombs.

    You can have an opinion on whether that's a good thing to make available to
the public or a bad thing, but the truth is, personal responsibility would
suggest that anyone twisted enough to build a pipe-bomb probably didn't need
the instructions nor was it particularly relevant at all-- they were going to
do something to someone, somewhere. If you leave instructions on how to control
your breathing when firing a rifle, are you disseminating information on
terroristic activities, even when millions of Americans shoot for sport? I
myself, used to be a crack shot with a .22 caliber and a .37. For those
wondering, no, I never hunted, I shot targets.

    Regardless, wouldn't the same logic apply? After all, I saw a program for
the palm pilot the other day that helps someone knock an arrow for either a
longbow, or a crossbow. It would even help you with accuracy and maintenence of
the weapon. Did the crossbow not dominate medeival France, giving way only to
the gun? I think it did. So was this freely downloadable PalmOS reference guide
a peice of illicit software? It's hard to even grasp such a concept for those
of us who had once been scenesters in the information exchange crowd. What most
people don't know about the net, is that ever since the advent of the Usenet or
the WELL network, people have distributed information on everything you can
possibly imagine. But it wasn't until, what, ten years ago that suddenly just
being a well-read individual made you a dangerous person. 

    Although we could call Operation Sundevil the most vivid of crackdowns on
free speech on the internet, I think that the first 'honeypot' is a lot closer
to the source. In this case, someone bought Anarchistcookbook.com which, and
this is kind of an urban legend, so I apologize if it's not 100 percent
accurate, but everyone who visited the site got blacklisted by the FBI. Next
the DEA started planting anti-drug sites in place of informative sites about
marijuana. Finally, on hotline, there was a server known as Room 222. 222 was
traced by a couple of us on IllegalX, an old hack/phreak HLC server. We traced
it to two sources. The Software Protection Agency and Hotline Communications
Limited. It turns out that Hotline had received so much pressure, they were
forced to host a server on their own bandwidth which would allow people to
upload reports on piracy, hacking activing, and "subversive activity." 

    If I remember correctly, the same IP address was found on a subnet that was
traced to a machine running the infamous SADwyw Spider Bot, which catologued
all hotline servers, unless a certain set of words, a very specific phrase was
written into the "Server Agreement." It doesn't take a genius to draw the
conclusion that Hotline Communications was taking more than just a passive
approach to limit the content on the protocol.

    It was also this time that the famous DeCSS case broke out. CSS encryption
is, or was, an incredibly weak encryption scheme that obfuscated the contents
of a DVD, making it something other than a simple MPEG, dissallowing certain
activities. Jon Johansan of Norway was convicted of reverse engineering, which
none of us knew was a crime back then, and the MoRE, or Masters of Reverse
Engineering probably would all still be eating bread and water at some shitty
icelandic prison if the Electronic Frontier Foundation hadn't stepped in to put
a stop to the blatant abuse of the Digital Millenium Copyright Act, signed into
law by Former President Bill Clinton.

    DeCSS, simply put, decrypted the contents of a DVD, making such things as
playing a DVD purchased in France that had a regional lock on it possible to
play in Norway. In fact, that's exactly what it was written for, if my memory
serves correctly. Johansen, a Norwegian native, had been on vacation with his
family in France, where he purchased several DVDs, which mentioned nothing of a
regional encoding that would prevent him from viewing the movies when he
returned to his native country. Further preventing Johansen from viewing the
movies was the fact that he only ran a Linux Distribution on his computer, and
the Motion Picture Association of America's power was so widespread, it had
successfully squashed all attempts hitherto to create a Linux native DVD
player.

    The Supreme Court of the United States ruled against both the EFF and
against the First Ammendment itself, setting up one of the largest domino
effects in litigation history. The official ruling, which was brought to the
High Court by 2600 Magazine's Emmanuel Goldstein and his Lawyers at the EFF,
was that source code was not a protected form of freedom of speech. 

    So, the count right now is up to the following: all information on
pyrotechnics was banned. All information on the circumention of an obnoxious
encryption scheme that served no purpose for the consumer was banned,
dissemination of the DeCSS source code and white papers surrounding the concept
were banned, and it became very clear, very fast, that the internet was being
closed in on. 

    The saddest part of this chronology is the fact that no senate hearing ever
bothered to go into detail about the really cool and educational things that
were distributed even more frequently than any material that might make censors
uncomfortable. In my own life, it was the TI-8x, or the graphing calculator
programmer community that impacted me greatly. See, when this was going on in
the world, and in our country, I was also struggling with an issue regarding
numbers that I couldn't explain. It turned out to be a rare disorder called
Discalculia, a bastard-cousin of Dyslexia that would have prevented me from
taking any mathematics courses at all, if it weren't for the programming skills
I learned. 

    In discalculia, the brain often loses track of numbers, switches them
around, it just can't focus. People, like myself, who have it, can do the math,
but when we plug in the numbers to the equation by hand, it all comes out
wrong. This is because of the disorder. If you don't beleive me, ask yourself
why there is a certain criteria to bring different high-end models of Texas
Instruments Graphing Calculators to the SATs. It was found that with a little
help from a calculator that would lay out the steps, or provide the coding
environment to create framework for following these steps, a person like myself
could navigate pythagorean math, geometric problems and find things like the
hypotenuse or the sine and cosine of a number, the way someone without the
disability could.

    I could have let the system just swallow me up and spit me out, leaving me
without the credits in math necessary to graduate to college. Instead, I became
an avid computer programmer, and a top-level student. It was this free
knowledge that helped me do something as important as even getting my High
School Diploma or getting into college.

    There were other amazing things you could find online. Shakespeare is
public domain, so is much of Dante, Milton and Poe. Kids of all demographics
only needed an internet connection, a search engine and enough room on their
hard drives to download and then read the classics. It's because of this
distribution of literature that I can recite "The Raven" by Edgar Allen Poe,
almost perfectly. It's because of magazines like 2600 and the HOPE 2K
conference where Jello Biafra spoke that I gained a social conscience and began
working in my community to help people, whether it be volunteering at a soup
kitchen or speaking out against police brutality.

    Unfortunately, this amazing array of knowledge and ideas and even community
is always just behind the gates, barely holding off of a surging crowd of
litigators, law enforcement officers, the MPAA and RIAA agents, senators and
concerned parents who have never actually LOOKED at the BEAUTY of what's been
created. They will keep hacking away at our personal freedoms to even think
what we want to think and beleive what we wish.

    There's a problem though, not one that we face as the cyberculture, the
hackers, the deckers, the phreaks and the freaks, but that the corporate
controlled media and police agencies face. We're not going to let big money
shred the First Ammendment of the United States. 

    And even if it's torn to tatters, the information that Jefferson and
Franklin once guaranteed the protection of will continue to be distributed,
pamphleted out in digital packets, analagous to the way the so-called founding
fathers distributed the Declaration of Independence and how Thomas Paine did
"the Rights of Man," the original document declaring that all men have
inalienable human rights.

-?------------?-----??----------??????????????????????-------------------?????-
PA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1
PA1Nv6x14 ---------------------------------------------------------------[ 14 ]
                     [              Outro              ]
                     [            alienbinary          ]
[ 4teen ]-------------------------------------------------------------PA1Nv6x14
A1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1NPA1N
-?------------?---????????????-----------????????--------??????????????????----

    It's the start of a New Year. I suppose the majority of you out there will
be reading this after you have hugged the toilet bowl for several hours, in
requiem for a nights binge. New Year's Eve is a stupid holiday, like Valentines
day. People, ordinary people, sit at home, in their apartments on January 1st.
They watch a stupid ball drop a few feet on an even more stupid-looking pole.
Around the world there are celebrations as if the changing of a digit in the
date function really makes a difference. For that time, they will dance and
pretend that all is right with the world, ignoring world hunger and world
warfare. Everyone will get drunk and wake up the next morning with a stupid
resolution that they have no intention of carrying through with.

    A lot of these resolutions will have to do with wieght. "To lose five
hundred pounds so I can fit in a bathing suit (that's really only large enough
to shelter a fraction of a child, not a full adult body.)" And these pledgers
will go with strengthened resolve up until they get to the office and remember
all the vile shit they had during the holiday season. At that point, they'll
give up and move on to something more practical.

    In the meantime, another month has passed, really. From the beginning of
december to the second week of january, everyone is in their own world. White
middle-class Americans will give up on watching the news reports, in favor of
"Miracle on 34th Street," a rediculous flick in which the moral is to beleive
in something that was created by the media and the greeting card industry to
make money. While these people watch their stupid movies, their rights get
corroded away; dissolved just like the roads they drive on because the
transportation authority has to be stingy and use cheap salts, because everone
has become greedy. Countless numbers of people will die of exposure, and even
more will become disillusioned and feel alone. Is this the peace on earth and
goodwill toward man crap that I was told to look forward to? Is this the way
peace on earth looks? It looks like shit. This whole world is so afraid to open
their eyes and see for themselves the madness that they live in. People trudge
through seas of eachother, the masses. They live in squallor and die when their
worth has been used up.

    But not for a whole lot longer. I, for one, am tired of being told to wait
my turn, to shut my mouth or to do anything other than that which I know that I
want in my heart to do. I have very few suggestions for other people on how to
conduct their own lives, that's not my job. It's my job to try and awaken the
masses.

    Those of you paying attention out there have probably noticed that this is
the fastest an issue of PA1N has ever been compiled. As the hits in the forum
began to accumulate after the release of PA1N Volume 5, Turnspike asked me if I
wanted to get another issue out before New Year's. 

    I have to admit, I was taken aback, after all there has been a noticeable
lack of content from some of the editors. The reason for this shouldn't be too
hard to guess. It's the holiday rush and many of us had finals at school. Now
that we have a slight respite, it was angel ice who first promised material,
even seemed enthusiastic about the new deadline. This marks her, especially for
me, long awaited return to the annals of our dear PA1N Magazine. 

        [ editor's note in editor's note: Angel Ice is currently AWOL, 
          although alienbinary remains in contact with her. Issue 
          Seven, which is already in the works, will contain probably 
          more than one of her peices. An unfortunate mailserver error 
          before an even less fortunate decision to go AWOL without the 
          laptop has held her article hostage. I promise, you're going 
          to be blown off your feet. I've been given the go to put out 
          this issue without her article, in order to meet the deadline.
          Sorry for the confusion, but it gives you something to drool over 
          for PA1N Magazine, Volume 7. -- alienbinary ]

White Rabbit has come through as usual, and the Loki archives were long overdue
for a new
installment. 

    I don't know how annual PA1N will be. If anything, I hope no one will try
and devise a timetable that determines when I'll release the next issue. The
truth is, I really don't know until it's time to upload the final product. On
another note, I've had plenty of inquiries into what to write. There's a FAQ in
the spfd2600.org PA1N forum that should answer these questions.

    So what does that mean? It means that this is not a closed forum. White
Rabbit and I were talking on AIM, and he asked me what my political views were.
I told him, honestly, that I was up in the air. After all, I'm one of those
people who recognizes that society never completely works. Democracy has proven
as plausible and realistic as replacing the clothes dryer with the microwave.
The reason for the inquiry, I discovered, was an unsureness about whether
certain viewpoints were contradictory to the zine. I told him, as I will relay
now, that all viewpoints are valid. There is only one political affiliation
that I won't bother with, and that's fascism. You couldn't torture me enough to
get me to publish a pro-fascist peice. 

    That being said, however, what I meant stands true for everyone. If you
send in a peice that's well thought out, fuck it, I'll put it in an issue. Not
every article that appears in PA1N is a reflection of how I view the 


world, nor
is it necessarily a reflection on how any of the editors feel. The views belong
solely to the authors, and that's the way it should be. I'm sick and tired of a
lot of things, but what I'm most irritated with lately, is the disgusting-- no,
the absolutely repugnant-- American tendency to pawn off every responsibility
to someone else. Case in point, Rush Limbaugh says something that wasn't a
bright thing to say, he gets canned. Do I think he should have been canned? Who
cares. The thing is, rather than address the actual issue he was referring to,
the corporate media decided to bail ship and dump the heat. Now, I never
thought I would defend someone as, in my opinion, vile as Limbaugh; actually to
be honest, I'm not. But there's a trend there. If, for example, I decided that
something was too controversial for PA1N, just because I wanted to avoid
controversy, I would be cheating you, the reader, out of potentially good
material. 


    I think my criteria for peices are universal, and I'm pretty damn certain
that they're fair. The criteria are like this: if you have something to say,
fucking say it; however, you must back up what you have to say. The worst thing
in the world is to read some grumpy assclown's column in the New York Times
complaining about this or that aspect of government behavior when it's clear
the person has no understanding of the inner workings of a complex society
whatsoever. Myself, I feel confident in what I write, because I've done my
research. How do you do your research? Read everything you can get your hands
on. There's an infectious misconception among people these days, as I suspect
there always has been, that there are only a few things worth learning. If you
go by that philosophy, you're probably a boring person. Learn everything you
can, and in this case, since government impacts all of our lives, read anything
you can get your hands on.

    Perhaps I should give some suggestions before I move on, for those of you
with mixed political affiliations, or confused beleifs, or just anyone looking
for something to expand their mind with, I suggest the following books as
primers: "the Prince" by Machiavelli, "The Art of War" by Sun-Tzu, "On the duty
of Civil Disobedience" by Henry David Thoreau, and keep going. The more you
read, the more you learn, and the more valid it is what you have to say.

    So send anything, I'll read it, and unless it's actually terrible, you'll
definitely receive feedback, and probably publication. It should be noted,
Turnspike and myself are pretty Libertarian, but that hasn't stopped us from
putting out right and left wing articles by various authors. Unlike the
corporate media, we don't beleive that there is only one point of view.

    Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this issue of PA1N Magazine, and by the time
you're reading this, I've probably already begun the seventh. Until then,
remember that just because they tell you to be quiet, doesn't mean that it's
for your own good. Sometimes the best time to speak is when it's most
uncomfortable. 

                                    - alienbinary
                  
                            PA1N Magazine Editor in Chief
                                    pain@e-lite.org
                  
                  
            - ---- --- --------------------------------- --- ---- - 

                "we don't want our chains made more bearable,
                         we want our chains removed."
                
                            - Bishop Desmond Tutu            

            - ---- --- --------------------------------- --- ---- -