Suggestions and Comments

I don't want any form of computer or electronic device, connected in any form to the Internet and is listening to me all of the time, in my home.We've already seen how easy it is for even a 13 year old kid to hack into our computers, for advertisers to pick out our shopping habits and target us with unwanted spam or select advertising to hover in websites we visit. Others plant spyware on our systems or malware.You already know the government is listening just in case you're a perv, a dissident, a criminal or just some irritable bastige who pi$$ed off some minor government official.You cell phones can be tapped into by the cops and give up your location, records of you e-mails, texts and records of your conversations. Some can be turned on remotely unless you pull the freakin batteries. Plus, now you can link security systems to your phones and computers, meaning there are two more ways for your private areas and activities to be spied on.We've already reports of people hacking into baby monitors and seeing into kids rooms and some using the speakers to talk to them. Wifi can easily be hijacked and a lot of your home stuff will probably run on it.If you create an 'intelligent' house connected to the global internet, you're just begging about 20 federal agencies to lurk i9n your walls and hackers to line up by the scores to plunder your codes, bank accounts and see what your 14 ...

The Pickle Jar   The pickle jar as far back as I can remember sat on the floor beside the dresser in my parents' bedroom.   When he got ready for bed, Dad would empty his pockets and toss his coins into the jar. As a small boy, I was always fascinated at the sounds the coins made as they were dropped into the jar.   They landed with a merry jingle when the jar was almost empty. Then the tones gradually muted to a dull thud as the jar was filled.   I used to squat on the floor in front of the jar to admire the copper and silver circles that glinted like a pirate's treasure when the sun poured through the bedroom window. When the Jar was filled, Dad would sit at the kitchen table and roll the coins before taking them to the bank.   Taking the coins to the bank was always a big production. Stacked neatly in a small cardboard box, the coins were placed between Dad and me on the seat of his old truck.   Each and every time, as we drove to the bank, Dad would look at me hopefully. 'Those coins are going to keep you out of the textile mill, son. You're going to do better than me. This old mill town's not going to hold you back.'   Also, each and every time, as he slid ...

Love dem lurkers!

What is the deal with the lurkers?  Are they real or are they a figment of the creators wild dreams?!

I haven't been here for months!  Nothing new?  Besides a few minor changes it appears the creator lost interest in this project.

Free/open/net Bsd topic please

Free/open/net Bsd topic please

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