Thursday, May 8, 2003

While I will never install a tracker on my website, gentle reader, I can discern when someone’s trying to hack into my computer.

And I have a special message for you, Mr. 211.76.97.230.

You’d better get yourself a good IP-Masker, gentle f*cknut, because I’m on to you. Do you really think I’d store my credit card numbers, bank routing numbers, and my deepest, darkest secrets in my computer? If that’s the case, come a little closer and let me whisper something in your ear: you’re one sad little hacker.

If you want my security files so badly, you could’ve asked and I would’ve zipped them up and mailed them to you. Why? I’ll tell you why: Because I don’t care if you whiz around my enormous 6.4-gig hard drive and peruse my English papers. You want my hardware drivers? Have at them. And you can have ALL the cookies in my Internet cache–suck them down until you explode, for all I care. What if you permanently brought down my entire system? I would weep some of my sweet, hot tears, gentle dipshit, and then proceed to purchase a new rig. I mean, hell, I’ll send you a crappy processor, PC-100 RAM, an Ensoniq soundcard, and a half-working DVD-drive to go along with that precious hard drive, if you’d like.

Here, let me bottom-line it for you: If you screw around with me, you’re going up Shit Creek without a paddle.

And now, non-hackerly gentle readers, I wish you a good night.