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A Hot, Fishless Bastard (DFV 2011)

We went back to Kibler Valley last weekend.  We left Richmond much later than we had planned, so we drove the last hour of the trip in the darkness down those winding, switchback country roads with the deer glowing ahead of us on the turns in the headlights.  Lady slept for the first four hours of the trip, except when we woke her up to pee on the greenway at a Burger King in South Boston, but she sat up wide awake as soon as we were in the woods close to the river.  When we got to the cabin, the three dogs from next door had already formed a welcoming committee. Then there was the great sniffing and re-sniffing of genitals and the long luxurious four-way daisy-chain of analingus.  Mindy and I watched, astounded, until they were through, and Mindy said how it broke her heart that our little girl is such a slut. 
We woke up early and had coffee on the deck and rigged our fishing gear and waded in for a little morning fishing.  Then I took the truck up to the top of the valley to scout the water for possible kayaking.  The water looked lower than it had been in August, even after the recent rains, and as I got close to the dam I saw a lot of anglers out whipping flies at it from somewhere beneath a thousand dollars worth of equipment, each trying his hardest to remember what Brad Pitt looked like in A River Runs Through It.  The public camping areas were full of them, RVs full of them, and empty pickups lined the sides of the road on the way up to Basketball Falls. I met one guy walking downstream by the pump house empty handed, and as I passed him I grinned and said boy did he look snug and warm; he wore neoprene hip-waders and a heavy vest with a thousand pockets and a hat that looked just like Brad’s. It was already almost eighty degrees out, and while the Dan is cold, the water rarely gets more than thigh deep on that stretch of the river.  I had fished the same water early that morning in my skivvies.  He didn’t appreciate my sense of humor.  He looked hot.  Hot and fishless. A hot, fishless bastard …

This was my favorite when I was a kid.  All kids should be made to watch this, A Clockwork Orange style, strapped into seats with their eyelids pinned back … Here endeth the lesson.

NSA was responsible for 2012 Syrian internet blackout, Snowden says

6 days ago

Do Strong Web Passwords Accomplish Anything? - Microsoft Research


Password Portfolios and the Finite-Effort User:

Sustainably Managing Large Numbers of Accounts∗

A little old but still an interesting approach. 

"We find that traditional password advice given to users is somewhat dated. Strong passwords do nothing to protect online users from password stealing attacks such as phishing and keylogging, and yet they place considerable burden on users. Passwords that are too weak of course invite brute-force attacks. However, we find that relatively weak passwords, about 20 bits or so, are sufficient to make brute-force attacks on a single account unrealistic so long as a "three strikes" type rule is in place. Above that minimum it appears that increasing password strength does little to address any real threat. If a larger credential space is needed it appears better to increase the strength of the userID’s rather than the passwords. For large institutions this is just as effective in deterring bulk guessing attacks and is a great deal better for users. For small institutions there appears little reason to require strong passwords for online accounts."

1 week ago- 3

Julia Van Develder | Facebook

A remembrance, on the Yahrzeit of my mother’s death.  What a lady!  What a childhood!  Amazing.  We miss you, Mom!

2 weeks ago- 1

(Source: radiofreerichmond)

Movie time …

Movie time …


No phone/internet/tv/people.  Whaddya gonna do with yourself?

Uhhh . .  fish?  Seriously, though.  This is Sugar Mountain, and unless you were somehow affiliated with Shrinemont in the late Seventies and Early Eighties, you have no idea what that means.  I get up in these valleys, and I can hear Kirk Vanscoyoc’s banjo in the water against the hillside, and I can almost (close enough) hear the voices of Chuck Wehland and Wavey Dave and Jim Hassle and Yogi and Skip and Jeff  Dewhirst, and Mark and Mona . . and Churchill . . Churchill.  And Flippo …