Conversation with glnktz

Categories: Authoritative Condescension * Elitism* Pointless Criticism

[Please note that this happened in 2003. The mentions of Budgiland (my AOL site), the free Dreambook, and of course me working at a bookstore job are no longer applicable.]

So. I get online and my first clue that something went wrong is that my e-mail box has no fewer than three e-mails from various servers, "reminding" me of my own password to things like AIM, Dreambook, and the website provider envy.nu that I was using for some pages at the time. Someone had obviously been running around trying to get one of my passwords sent to themselves for mischief, only succeeding in alerting me that someone was trying to do so.

Unfortunately, there was a security hole in Dreambook. Apparently it allowed users to change the e-mail address on file just by plugging in the old one and the new one. Most of the other e-mails were just reminding me of my password, but my Dreambook e-mail alerted me that my information had been changed on file from SwankiVY2@aol.com to another e-mail address: glnktz@hotmail.com .

Beyond that suspicious crap, I also had an e-mail from a fan of my site, a lovely soul named Amy. She was signing my guestbook to let me know about a new link, and discovered that someone had put rude things in there and apparently had gone through around a hundred entries specifically to individually cut and paste the phrase "You seem like a dirty little slut. Do you suck your daddys cock?" into every one of my previous guestbook messages. Well, it was annoying to have to go in there and delete all of them (noticing that the jerk had run out of steam about halfway through adding the phrase to every visible entry), though I must admit it was kind of amusing that the moron went to so much trouble to do this and couldn't even be bothered with the right form of possessive for "daddy's." What, never heard of apostrophes? But after all, what do I expect? I'm obviously talking about someone whose brain does not really work correctly.

The obscene phrase had been pasted into all three of my guestbooks (my main one, my Craft site, and my really old Kids' WB! guestbook that wasn't even attached to an active site anymore). Also, categories were added or changed. Three new categories were added to my guestbook. One had a blank for visitors to fill in whether they'd like to fuck me up the ass, and one asked visitors to agree or disagree with a statement about me being so much better than they were. Not to mention the box for visitors to include their penis size. In my Craft page, the question about religious preference had been changed to read "Do you suck cock?" It was actually laugh-out-loud funny to read some of the responses to that question, now that it read "Do you suck cock?" Apparently many of my visitors only suck Wiccan or Pagan cock, and a few answered "i dont know" or "don't understand the question." One even put "I'm a witch." "Do you suck cock?" "I'm a witch." HAHAHA!

Amusing though it might have been, I changed the category back, and attempted to up the security on my guestbook with a "secret question/answer" combination. I changed my password, and tweaked my personal information since the moron had decided to supply my name as being "Miss Slut." The service had changed their interface since I'd configured my guestbook the first time, so I thought maybe this new version would plug the security hole. Well, no dice.

Apparently either my "hacker" had left the window open, allowing continued access, or there was still a way to get my password sent to another e-mail address, because when I signed on again after a nap, I had another "e-mail changed" notification, this time sending the mail to "swanklvy2@aol.com". (Yeah, that's my address with a lowercase L instead of an I, which is silly considering in my screenname it's a lowercase i anyway and looks nothing like an L.) So, jackass is an AOL member (or has access to AOL), and has specifically created an address to bug me. Ooh, high tech.

It was a bit annoying to find that not only had my security been compromised--again--but the ass actually decided to delete all my guestbooks this time. Guess that'll show ME for trying to control my own account. I have to interject here that that amused me too. I don't much care if the entries are gone, though it was kind of warm and toasty to have over 600 entries. I had replied to every entry that mattered and saved any information I needed; I never would trust an online archive to save anything I particularly needed; anything I want is always backed up a couple times. Maybe I'm anal that way. Moving on.

Well, considering someone had created an AOL name (or maybe even an account) just to screw with me, I decided to try and report the activity to AOL's TOS department, but they didn't have a category for that, so I went in online help. Which has got to be the most hideously named area ever. Look at how my transcript went.


So, obviously this AOLTech didn't even quite grasp the implications of my problem, and I decided I'd do what was necessary to nail the jerk for fraud.

The next day (6/22/03), I got in touch with the fraud department, who told me how to report it, and I did so, providing the appropriate documentation. Then I got online to do my usual thing, and soon afterwards I started getting notifications about my guestbook being signed. This time when I checked, the newest visitor was talking in a pseudo-preachy way about how horrid the "wanna-be hacker" was, with drippy sentences like "why would anyone want to do that?" I could tell from the tone that it was entirely insincere, and that would have been enough to delete it, but an intentional tip was left in the "name" space: The visitor signed in as "WhiteRat," which was the password on my old Dreambook. (Oddly enough, I used to use that password for a lot of stuff and had phased it out years ago, I was surprised to find that one of my services still had that as the password. Goes to show you how old the damn thing was!) Oh, and if you're wondering why it was "whiterat"—it was something my old friend Mia used to say in high school.

Anyway, after I deleted the guestbook entry, I got another one, and this time the jerk decided to be more obvious about it. Again the name was WhiteRat, with a supposedly insulting message:

Now available from SwankIvy Press! Want to be perfect? Want to never again forget your apostrophes? Want the whole world to know that you are the best? Now you can! Order SwankIvy's 'How to be like me' handbook. Complete the form below for more information on ordering!"

A cute little form was set up, followed by this little bit, either meant as an attempt at reconciliation or a clue-phone that this page had been discovered:

Hey Swanky baby, come'on.....I'm just playing with you. I thought you liked pranks. I'm happy to be a part of your site. Jerk#18, aye? Cool.

I should probably make it clear that I assumed "Jerk #18" would read this page; I could expect nothing less from someone who's apparently obsessed with me. I mean, "come'on." Addressing Jerk #18 and any other jerks in the category, I must say this: Do whatever you want; it isn't going to change your inferiority complex (which I might add is justified). I'm not quaking in fear, drowning in despair, or freaking out just because you screwed with me. I'd also like to say that whatever you might want to believe, causing irrevocable damage to someone's intellectual property is not a "prank," and my lack of amusement over that aspect of the situation is not indicative of my having no sense of humor. Once the "attacks" were reduced to leaving messages in the guestbook, we'll back off and make it look all harmless, how nice.

Well, what if I HAD been unwise enough to have information I couldn't lose in the guestbook? What if I HAD been unwise enough to use the same password everywhere? Maybe this "prank" would have extended to my AIM screenname and my envy.nu websites, since obviously this dork tried to get those too. Not cool, not funny . . . but not particularly threatening.

So, the NEXT day (6/23/03), I got a nice personal e-mail. Ooh, direct contact. Observe:


To: Ivy
From: glntkz

Wow, an update? I really feel loved! Don't be confussed... its not an obsession with you. Its pity. You spend so much of your life living it in Budgiland, that you've lost all touch with reality.

inferiority complex? Me? Well, I don't have a job at a bookstore that I hate. I don't live in an apartment. I have a nice house, a great job that I love, and a partner who is the world to me. Why should I feel inferior to you? I'm very happy. Happy I am NOTHING like you.

You say YOU are happy. Don't kid yourself, Julie. I browsed your site, and I have come to the conclusion that you are a miserable woman who is very unhappy with her life. Your only satisfaction is pointing out the shortcomings of others. Sad, sad, sad. You better love someone and let someone love you before its too late. True...love doesn’t make the world go around. But, it sure makes the trip worthwhile.

So...I guess you'll be updating Jerk#18, yes? Ofcourse. You have nothing better to do. I'll check it out later...when I need a laugh.

Take care.


[Ahh, yes! Let's examine this, shall we?]

Don't be confussed... its not an obsession with you. Its pity. You spend so much of your life living it in Budgiland, that you've lost all touch with reality.

Yeah, I guess I was kind of "confussed" about the whole thing. After all, it's natural when you pity someone to read large portions of that person's site and return often (which is in no way obsession), and then spend lots of time searching for ways to destroy it. Out of PITY. Poor girl, spends SO much time on her website, living in Budgiland and losing touch with reality. Obviously has no life, poor thing. All she ever does is work on her site, of course, since obviously it's huge and it MUST be the only thing in her life, since it's all I ever see of her. There must be nothing else to know, I can judge her entirely on her online persona and feel intense pity. Which causes me to ATTACK!!!

Well, I don't have a job at a bookstore that I hate.

I didn't hate my job; I hate willfully ignorant people. And ignorant people will always exist whether I deal with them or not. It was a nice release (and a nice entertainment for others, I know by way of the feedback I got) to come home from a day of work and plug in the jackassess of the day. Took about five minutes unless there were huge amounts, and even then it took less time than most people spend on their evening TV watching. (In case you wonder, I do not watch TV.) Anyway, wasn't the job itself I hated; it was the jerky people. That's why I make websites about them.

Continuing on a related subject. . . . I suppose you can't say you "love" your job if you would quit if they stopped paying you. I didn't "love" working at the bookstore either, but it was appropriate for what I needed at the time. Ideally, of course, it'd be nice to make it big with my own writing; it's unfortunate that I am not being paid scads of money like J.K. Rowling, but not everyone can make money doing what they love. It's not like it's a rule that what one lives for has to be the same thing as what puts food on your table. Maybe one day I'll make money doing it, but it's not like everyone suddenly makes plenty of money as soon as they attempt their chosen passions, and it's not like all passions are equally likely to yield money anyway. Besides, disliking some aspects of my job does not expose me for a depressed, sad sack bitch who lashes out by pointing out people's shortcomings in order to feel better. Nope . . . I'm not making money doing what I love, but that doesn't mean I must just spend my life moping and hating every second. My life's work is not the work I currently get paid for, that's all. Reality sometimes bites.

I don't live in an apartment. I have a nice house, a great job that I love, and a partner who is the world to me.

Ahh yes, apply the American Dream to my situation, compute that since I don't have these things I must not be happy, and therefore "pity" me (which as we've discussed before involves attempting to hack my website). It's like the way some people think you can't possibly be happy until you convert to THEIR religion, since they weren't until they did. I don't have these things, so therefore there is no possibility that I am happy.

I'll go into the PARTNER deal later, but I just have to take a moment to laugh at the accusation that I, of all things, live in an APARTMENT. Ooh, that's low, hahaha she's POOR. She lives below the poverty level, isn't that hilarious! Poor starving bookstore worker who can't afford a house! Isn't it FUNNY that I don't have much money?

I don't have a car. I don't have cable. I don't want either one, since I don't know how to drive and I don't want to watch TV. You can look at these things and say "Oh my GAWD, how pathetic." Go ahead and say the same thing to those scary hermit monks, obviously since they only eat a communion cracker and meditate in loincloths all day, they must be sad since they're living in thrift. God, aren't we all just worthy of pity.

Yeah, if I had more money I'd probably get a house. As such it just isn't an issue. To make a lot of money, I'd probably have to take a career that required responsibility and time that I am not interested in giving. My life's passion is my WRITING, and as long as my computer keeps working to allow me to type my stories in, I doubt it matters if I'm typing in a house, a mansion, an apartment, or a cave. But no, by all means, don't consider any of the possibilities of why I live in an apartment. Just assume it's another by-product of my being pathetic . . . and, of course, pity me. You live in a house, so therefore I should be jealous; we can all see who's the better person here, based on our living quarters.

I browsed your site, and I have come to the conclusion that you are a miserable woman who is very unhappy with her life. Your only satisfaction is pointing out the shortcomings of others. Sad, sad, sad.

I don't think I have to say much about this. Obviously since you've "come to this conclusion," it must be true. Yup, just miserable over here. No point in my jumping up and down and saying "Nuh-uh!" and trying to turn it back in your face . . . you already tried that, after all, it's already old. So yup, I should just shoot myself now; I really just hate life all the time. Since I don't have a house or a partner or anything, remember. Wouldn't you want to die too? Moving on.

You better love someone and let someone love you before its too late.

Here it is . . . the only slightly veiled accusation that I'm all bitter because I don't have a boyfriend or a husband. Oh wahhhh! No one loves me! I don't have anyone, except my not-actually-real-because-they're-on-the-computer Internet friends! You know, you're right . . . if only I could find someone to love, and to love me, everything would be all better. Since my life sucks so much butt hair, that is. I wallow in misery each day hoping that maybe one day someone will look past all my faults and my living in an apartment and everything, and love my pathetic poor ass. I better hurry and find a partner, too, before "its" too late.

Yes! Sweeping judgments of my character! Never mind that large parts of my website--which has been up since 1997--have been in need of maintenance for years because I just don't have time to tweak them. Never mind that how many novels I've written and how many I have in progress. Never mind that I barely have any time alone (and haven't in the past years since I graduated college) because so many people want to spend time with me and I with them, only wishing there were more hours in the day or that I didn't have to sleep. Never mind all that. Obviously, I am a sorry excuse for a human whose WHOLE LIFE is on the In-Tar-Net (obviously, since my website is so big and informative). Obviously, I do not have anyone to love me. Obviously I am in need of a "partner" so I can see what I'm missing, because that's totally appropriate to suggest to an aromantic asexual.

True...love doesn’t make the world go around. But, it sure makes the trip worthwhile.

Oh, excuse me if I barf while you wax philosophical, rephrasing any meaningless quote from an inspirational quotes book. Yeah, here we go . . . my life is so freaking worthless because there's no LOVE in my life . . . I don't routinely bump uglies with anyone and I don't fit into that little pattern where happiness equals finding someone with which to do so, and of course all my friendships, since they DON'T have physical intimacy, are worthless and are not in any way a type of REAL love. In order to know the meaning of love, there must be an exclusive partnership, preferably involving sex, marriage, intent of marriage, long-term cohabitation, or all of the above. And as we all know, there is nothing ELSE that makes "the trip" worthwhile.

By all means! Let me be taught clichéd lessons about LOVE and values by someone whose methodology includes hacking my site and exploiting Dreambook's rather sloppy security hole, then running around to multiple online utilities plugging in the password, hoping it will be usable somewhere else so that more things can be wrecked. Yes, let's have THAT be our lesson. LOVE is the key, LOVE is the best thing about life. Tough love, I guess . . . apparently I need lessons about love chiseled into my head through random acts of digital violence discussing my "daddys cock."

I guess you'll be updating Jerk#18, yes? Ofcourse. You have nothing better to do.

I probably don't even need to say anything in response to this one. But I will.

HAHAHAHAHA.

No, that's not all.

I'm being told I have nothing better to do by someone who went through at least a hundred guestbook entries pasting foul sentences to make it seem as though many other people asked me if I like to suck my daddy's cock (oh, excuse me, I mean "daddys cock"--wouldn't want to misquote anyone). Since I find this whole thing FUNNY, and since other people who are interested in my life also find it funny and want to know what's going on, I must just have "nothing better to do" when I write this response to an attack of random assholery.

I'M BEING TOLD I HAVE NOTHING BETTER TO DO. By someone who displayed "pity" for my situation by hacking my guestbook, eventually deleting the evidence of others' appreciation. Yes, I update this continuing saga because after I finish doing so my life will be empty. I don't even have a document open in Microsoft Word right now, waiting for me to start Chapter 8. I don't even have two people waiting for me to call them back. And believe me, even though I have a page about my hobbies, I definitely don't actually DO any of them, beyond writing this crap of course. Sad, isn't it? I guess I might as well fulfill the dual functions of amusing others and documenting this "case," even though of course the primary reason I'm writing this is that I just don't know what else to do with myself.

I'll check it out later...when I need a laugh.

Far be it for me to make any far-reaching judgments of character based on my interaction with you, dear . . . but I don't think a laugh is what you need. Perhaps a good long talk with yourself about why the HELL you started this with me, what your ACTUAL motivation was in attacking me, if the whole thing was fueled by this so-called pity for my situation. I thought when you pitied orphans, you gave them a home, or at least some damn food. You don't pity me if you turn around and make amateur attempts to destroy something that you think matters to me.

Take care.

Oh, there's that laugh I needed.


But now for some comments on this whole thing, overall.

I am not sure I understand what caused someone to spend so much time pasting obscene sentences about my daddy's cock into my guestbook, then ultimately deleting it when I was quick and complete about fixing it. I'm also not offended by the so-called "offensive" material. If the jerk was trying to shock me, it didn't work; the most shocking thing about this is that they tried so hard just to be a jerk.

Beyond mild anger (which dissipates as time goes on, since no permanent damage was done), my main feeling about this thing is one of amusement. First off, this person isn't even an accomplished hacker. This jackass was trying to exploit security holes in various services just to try to get into something to screw me up. And apparently this person didn't think for a second that I might notice all the e-mails full of my passwords that I didn't request, and didn't imagine that with all the attention my page gets, someone might mention it to me pretty quick. Also, the childishness of the changes to my guestbook are just stunning. Yeah, that'll show her, fill her guestbook with dirty words and maybe everyone will think she REALLY had everyone thinking she was a dirty slut and wanted to know visitors' penis sizes. Yes, that is consistent with my rant on asexuality and my impeccable grammar (apostrophes, anyone?).

Not to mention that this person seems inordinately obsessed with cock. Which is a problem for this person's shrink.

It's also amusing that there's so much focus on me thinking I'm BETTER than everyone. Well, I'm a damn good editor, and even though my little stalker seems to want to point out my good grammar as some sort of shortcoming, I couldn't help but notice a little extra effort in the subsequent messages, as if there was an attempt being made to type perfectly--to prove me wrong about wannabe hackers' inability to type their way out of a wet paper bag. Congratulations, "WhiteRat," there were only five instances of misused language in that guestbook entry, none of which were particularly glaring. Keep it up and you may be eligible to get a gold star!


Comment on this loser!

Any comments left here are PUBLIC. If you are not comfortable with that, mail me directly.

Name:
Email address:
Which jerk?
(Please don't leave "which jerk" blank. This is an all-purpose form for all the jerks.)
Comments:


Comments from others:

Mikey: This guy is a real putz and it seems that he must have had to perform for his father and that was the only way he could tell the world, he deserves a giant ball kick.


Guest: Girl...you need a life! This guys objective was probably to piss you off...and guess what....he did.

YOu need to deal with things in a better way then rambling on in a webpage.


swankivy: Yeah, I guess since someone spent lots of time and energy hacking junk on my site and destroyed some of my information, *I'M* the one who needs a life since it pissed me off and I wrote about it.

Thanks soooo much for telling me what I "need" to do and being just as judgmental as the next ass. Next!


MEKofTheMEKkingdom: I don't Know what to say about this guy, apart from he is a total tard and that I thank whatever God I believe in for irony...


Synesthesia: If that person is so content with their full life, why did they feel the need to hack into your account and bother you?
Seems like if they had such a full life they'd be doing something else. Like living it.


Wolfgang: If "love" in the romantic sense is the solitary thing making "the trip" worthwhile, that's called codependency. It's a pretty serious psychological problem, and if a person legitimately feels that way, it's best for them to see a psychiatrist. In this guy's case, however, I think it's more likely that he just didn't think his cliches through all the way.


Guest: Wow. I agree with the other Guest. You seriously need a life. I almost feel sorry for you. Almost.


swankivy: ZING! I'm gonna run around the Internet and tell people I don't know that the content they generate isn't interesting to me, and that therefore they need to "GET A LIFE." This will result in the content creator running to the store and purchasing a life and everything will be great! Clue phone: Telling people you feel sorry for them doesn't make you look superior and wise.


[All Conversations With Assholes]