Identity Chaos

April 23, 2023

Password management, strong and secure protection. Computer laptop keyboard and weak password on memo sticks, office desk background

WASHINGTON, D.C.- Bob Winston’s day began like any other day. He woke early, at 4:30 am, shaved, showered, and dressed before heading downstairs for his usual breakfast of coffee, a banana, and a yogurt. His commute to work was uneventful, and as he sat at his desk, he had no inclination that today he would save the world.

“I sat at my desk, turned on my computer, completed the company-mandated password challenge, then entered my username and password to log in to the network,” a humble Bob said when asked about yesterday morning. “After that, I simply entered a different password into the computer to access the group folder. Then it was simply reentering my usernames and passwords six more times to bring up the day’s files. To be honest, and don’t tell my boss, I did a little online shopping and read the news! That was just me entering my usernames and passwords on the four websites I was shopping, trying to find a gift for my wife. I like to catch up on the news by entering my usernames and passwords on the three news sites I read.”

Bob does not say that when signing into his Amazon account, he accidentally mistyped “Amazon,” which brought him to a covert dark web portal operated by the Russian FSB responsible for maintaining and, if necessary, activating the Russian nuclear arsenal. “I had no idea!” said Bob, laughing at his innocent mistake. “At first, it looked like the normal Amazon front page. I try to be an attentive husband, and my wife had mentioned in passing that she was interested in reading Atomic Habits for work. I entered Atomic Habits in the Amazon search field and was brought to a subfolder that had nothing to do with the book! I figured Amazon had a glitch on their site and decided to try again later. Claire, my wife, had also mentioned that she had spoken with Mildred, our neighbor, who said her husband Martin was planning on playing in an Under 35 softball league this summer. Being a bit older than Martin, I wondered if there were any Over 35 leagues, as I loved playing baseball. I thought I typed in “U35 leagues”, but I must have accidentally hit the 2 and 3 together and typed “U235″ instead. Well! Let me tell you, that brought me to an exciting site! My screen filled with schematics of missiles in bunkers and aboard submarines. What the heck is this, I thought!”

At the same time in Virginia, Virginia Sims began her morning at the NSA. “Yeah, just another manic Monday, I thought,” said Ms. Sims. I spent the first three hours of my morning, just like every other morning, signing into the various networks, folders, and files. I’m no different than anyone else. Just an endless series of usernames and passwords! Every day, three or four sites require me to update my password because they are outdated.”

“Sometimes it’s hard to develop a new variation on a password. There are just so many to remember!” laughs Ms. Sims. When she signed on to the last network, Ms. Sims’s screen was filled with a red background and the words “Russian Nuclear Arsenal Operational!”

“Well, you can imagine, my heart jumped into my throat! I had been listening to an audiobook on the way to work and hadn’t caught up on the news, so I was entirely in the dark about whatever geopolitical drama was unfolding!

I called my boss, but he needed to remember the password to his network. He reset it on Friday, but he forgot to write it down! He struggled to remember it, and more than once forgot to enter that he was not a robot which kicked him back to the beginning. Once he did remember it, he told me he was booted twice again when he didn’t correctly select all the photos containing stoplights or, what was it, crosswalks?”

“Anyway, he finally got signed in and saw the message I had sent him. He called me immediately and said he was unaware of any crisis but would contact the CIA and Pentagon to confirm we hadn’t missed anything.”

As Ms. Sims waited to hear back from her boss, Bob Winston struggled to get back to what he thought was a search for a softball league.

“The screen with the missiles and submarines looked real enough, but my son sometimes plays video games on my computer at home. I figured maybe the sign-on information he used for his Xbox had migrated to my work computer because the credit card was tied to me. Anyway, I’m curious, so I clicked on one of the missiles.”

“Instantly, the missile turned red, and I was brought to a different screen showing a list of coordinates. I’m not a cartographer, so I didn’t know what the latitude and longitude numbers meant! All I saw was SS-27 Mod 2 (Yars) and many numbers. It looked fun, so I clicked the big red button at the bottom of the screen to see what would happen! The screen started blinking green and then returned to the previous screen. Well, that was anticlimactic, I thought! No inflight cut-scene, no BOOM! Nothing! What struck me was that after all the usernames and passwords I had used all morning, you would think I would need some authorization to launch a missile in what I thought was a game! Poor game design, I figured!”

At NORAD and worldwide, screens started screaming. People began panicking over the seemingly unprovoked first-strike launch of a multiple-warhead nuclear missile from the Vladivostok peninsula in eastern Russia.

At the Pentagon, line officers began calling their superiors. Within minutes, it is reported, though unconfirmed, the President was relocated to a secure bunker in an undisclosed location conferring with the Joint Chiefs on both an intercept mission and a counter strike with nuclear munitions located in eastern Europe. And, as has been reported, the bunker was slowed in being brought online due to password issues with the secure internal network. Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, Gen. Mark Miley, with a nervous chuckle, recounts the fifteen minutes it took his staff to sign on to the network because a Lt. Commander misspelled “Analytics” three times in a row, forcing him to reset his password using an email link, an authenticator, proving he was not a robot, and identifying all the photos containing peanuts.

In Virginia, Virginia Sims received confirmation from her boss that a nuclear launch had been verified by NORAD and geostationary satellites orbiting in low earth orbit over North Korea. Her mind flashed to a similar situation she had read about in school.

On September 26, 1983, at the height of the Cold War, engineer Stanislav Petrov of the Soviet Air Defense Forces waited rather than responded when confronted by notification of an intercontinental ballistic missile launch from the United States and four subsequent launches. While awaiting corroborating evidence (which never came) rather than escalating the situation to his superiors, Lt. Col Petrov prevented initiating the world-ending mutually assured destruction doctrine. What turned out to be a false reading of sunlight on high-altitude clouds was mistaken by the new Soviet early warning system as a nuclear attack. Lt. Col Petrov saved the planet that day.

Ms. Sims, with Lt. Col Petrov in the back of her mind, began, essentially, reverse engineering the situation to back beginning. After signing into the NSA internet monitoring system using a handheld token of rotating numbers, verifying she was not a robot, and identifying all the photos of chickens, Ms. Sims quickly traced the IP address to Bob Winston’s insurance company computer in Burke, Virginia.

However, in a twist usually saved for cheesy Hollywood movies, the situation ended as quickly as it began.

“Yeah, I heard the coffee machine in the break room and knew either my boss or my colleague Barbara had arrived for work. It was time for me to get out of the game. At least, I thought it was a game! I clicked the back button on my computer, bringing me back to the screen showing the missile. A popup screen appeared, and I clicked Terminate, which I honestly thought was an overly dramatic way to say End Game. Then a second popup appeared with a space for a password. I have no idea, I thought. I heard my boss’s footsteps approaching me and just entered “password” into the computer. My browser closed just before my boss said good morning. Whew!”

High above the Pacific Ocean, the SS-27 Mod 2 ICBM carrying multiple nuclear warheads detonated in a harmless fireball, splashing pieces into the ocean, witnessed only by sea life and a lone longline trawler.

“It could have been much worse,” said Ms. Sims in a monumental understatement. “Thankfully, Bob entered the right password -“password”!”

When Does MY Freedom Count?

Land of the free because of the brave. Can we edit this to be land of the susceptible because of the selfish?

Sixty-six percent of Americans are fully vaccinated. Two-thirds of us. Another 6% “plan to get vaccinated.” Not sure what kind of schedule these people have that they couldn’t possibly squeeze a 2-second shot into their lives (to save their lives). Another 8% are “uncertain.” I have no idea how someone can be uncertain in the face of a global pandemic. The remaining 20% are “unwilling” to be vaccinated. Fully one-fifth of us are unwilling to be vaccinated to end this pandemic. And the overwhelming reason given by these armchair physicians who have done their own “research” is personal freedom.

By way of comparison, look at the chart below to see how American exceptionalism is an oxymoron:

While Putin wants to return Russia to the “glory” of the 1970’s Soviet Empire, Republicans in America wish to return antebellum American “glory.”

 Science, medicine, and fact dictate that the coronavirus is real. It’s not something you can “believe in” like the Easter bunny. It’s real, and it has killed almost 800,000 Americans. However, all of us who have done what common sense and common decency dictated (socially distance, wear a mask, get vaccinated, get boosted) are still stuck in an America paralyzed by the virus. I have a question for MAGA nitwits, what about my freedom? When (If) this ever ends, I don’t get to reset the clock and get these two/three/x number of years back. I’ll only be this age once. What about MY freedoms? When do I get to start living a “normal” life (defined as pre-COVID-19)?

I did what was right. I wear a mask more to protect those unvaccinated and vulnerable than to defend myself. Some people (immunocompromised (many chemotherapy patients)) cannot get the vaccine. The others, the 20% “unwilling” to get the vaccine, are infringing upon my freedoms. The three unalienable rights enunciated in the Declaration of Independence are “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” This is not a prescription for freedom without responsibility or accountability. And while MAGA nitwits will consider this communism or socialism, what I do impacts my neighbors. What I do affects my neighbor’s inalienable right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. If I do not get vaccinated, if I do not wear a mask at the grocery store, or socially distance, I may sacrifice my neighbor’s happiness, liberty, and life. Eight hundred thousand of us are no longer here to attest to this fact.

66% of us are fully vaccinated. A two-thirds majority. Nowhere near where it should be if we were all considerate and had a modicum of either dignity or common sense, but a majority. Where is the wave of anger among us, people who have done everything demanded and still living in an America paralyzed by COVID-19? Omicron is easily transmissible and less lethal. The subsequent mutations, the following variant may not be. It may be far more lethal. And it will only exist because there are enough unvaccinated people to allow the wild virus time to mutate. Enough idiots are waving their lack of concern (cloaked as “freedom”) to enable the virus to change itself enough to survive.

My freedoms should count. The freedom of 66% of us should matter. It should matter more than 20% of Americans, the steely-eyed cowboys staring down the wimpy virus, evangelicals convinced the virus is Satan’s test, conspiracy theorists convinced injecting sunlight or bleach will protect him (instead of getting the magnetic, tracker-enabled vaccine), or Republicans (including on the Supreme Court) working nonstop to prevent Biden/Democrats from leading us out of this pandemic). However, until we rise, the vocal, imbecilic minority will continue to hold the rest of us hostage, destined to live in an America subject to thousands of deaths per day, endless variants, and time evaporating from all of our lives.

When does my freedom count?

Bulletin from New Washington

NEW WASHINGTON – Overnight bombing continued in New York City and San Francisco as Day 39 of President Trump’s ongoing purge of “blue” America continued. Following last month’s arrest and detention of former Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi, former Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer, and former chairman of the House Permanent Select Committee on Intelligence, Congressman Adam Schiff, the president shows no sign of pausing the purge or “Red Whitewashing” as he calls it.

Similar to his coronavirus claims that “If you take the blue states out, we’re at a level that I don’t think anybody in the world would be at,” no casualty reports were issued from within any engaged city. Instead, when asked this morning, the president said, “We’re doing very well. One attack helicopter had to make a hard landing following apparent engine trouble, an engine, by the way, that was manufactured in one of the previously, poorly run blue states. Other than that, we can’t manufacture bullets fast enough, despite my authorization of the Red Defense Production Act.”

He further stated, “the stock market is nearing an all-time high, and as of this morning, the LCF (Lives Conversion Factor) is hovering at a number never seen before.” Indeed, at the time of his briefing before OANN and Fox News, each red state death was trading at 6,973 blue state deaths, a high not seen since the opening days of Operation Golden Crimson. Current Pentagon projections estimate that several blue states will, like an overturning iceberg, flip to red within the coming year. If that timeline proves accurate, the president will be poised to win the postponed presidential election with an unprecedented sweep of the revamped Electoral College. This will all but ensure his nomination for a third term even before the New Senate takes up the controversial White House proposal to rename the president’s recognized title from “Mr. President” to “Your High, Golden Wonderfulness.” Another White House proposal remains in limbo, moving the White House to Mar a Lago (New Washington), relocating the Capital to the Russian Embassy, and removing the bald eagle as the national bird in favor of a KFC drumstick.

When asked for comment on the status of the latter proposal, newly appointed Supreme Court Ted Cruz said, “I don’t believe there is any reason… not to allow the proposal to go through. With the other Justices removed… I, as the Supreme Court… whole-heartedly agree with His High, Golden Wonderfulness.”

Similarly, Senate Tsar Lindsey Graham seemed to flip flop on his initial reservations regarding the bald eagle’s removal following a round of presidential golf on Tuesday. Golfing included a KFC luncheon held on the 7th green and a presidential nap on the 13th green. The presidential siesta came complete with My Pillow pillows emblazoned with the new presidential seal (Two crossed drumsticks, one holding a nuclear missile and the other holding a gravy soaked biscuit).

Across town at the Ministry of Truth, Tsar Marco Rubio quoted an unrelated Bible verse when asked about recent, underground science and facts regarding coronavirus death’s topping 1 million. To clarify, he stated, “Jesus wasn’t taught calculus or medicine, and he is the white man we most seek to emulate. Other than His High, Golden Wonderfulness. Amen and pass the mashed potatoes.” Rubio, whose petition to change his last name to Ruby, per Operation Golden Crimson guidelines, saw his case move closer to Supreme Court Cruz (whose own petition to change his name to Oswald is pending presidential approval). When inadvertently pushed to expand on his remarks by Fox News reporter John Roberts (whose disappearance following the news conference was deemed coincidental to his line of questioning, Rubio replied, “Take him, dear Lord, take him.” It was not lost on this reporter that Rubio’s top security man is named Deerloard.

No living Democrats could be located for comment, and no Republicans could locate their vertebral column.

Rules

Rules

 

Following the news that the Trump family cheated us out of over $497.80 million in estate taxes comes news that son-in-law and senior White House advisor Jared Kushner paid little or no federal income taxes between 2009 and 2016. Couple that with the “still being audited” bullshit being run by Trump as the reason why he “can’t” release his tax returns and we can only guess whether we, as taxpayers, are subsidizing the current kleptocracy at an over or under $1 billion price tag.

And yet, at this point, we have been conditioned by the daily shitstorm of Tweets, rants, insults, and societal oversteps that we simply yawn. Shame on us. Our gag reflex at the absurd and unacceptable has been blunted by repetition and callused by social media. But Viktor Frankl said, “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.” That is the freedom we should be seeking, that is the independence we should be searching for and celebrating, not whether our president weirdly hugs a flag or misrepresents a football player for kneeling before a game.

My life is extremely important to me and me alone. My story will appear in no history book, my children my only legacy. I get up, go to work, do my best and I pay my taxes. We are all the result of our circumstances and our decisions based on those circumstances. I have raised children the best I could while making mistakes for which I will forever be ashamed. That said, they are the best thing that has ever happened to me and the best thing I will ever leave this world. I have willingly sacrificed a career to be a caregiver. I have buried my wife and tried to find happiness in a world I hardly understand. In other words, there is absolutely nothing remarkable about me. And I pay my taxes. I am happy to do so. I enjoy driving on paved roads. I complain about potholes. I enjoy living in the United States. I complain about military spending. I enjoy pizza. I complain about being too heavy. I still think I can hit a fastball and I see wrinkles in my neck.

But I am tired of playing by the rules when the rulers do not. I doubt Donald Trump has paid any taxes in the past 20 years. None. And he claims to be worth $10 billion. Jared Kushner paid little or no taxes over an 8-year period. And he’s worth $324 million. How many potholes would that have filled? How many schools would that have built? How many teachers would not have to buy their own supplies with that influx of taxes? Not to mention the $497.80 million Donald’s Daddy bilked us out of over the years by funneling money to his children. How many veterans, that the president claims to adore, could he have been personally treated or outfitted?

Having been raised Roman Catholic, and hard-wired with intrinsic guilt, the old saying, “How can you sleep at night?” always played in my head. That was always the guilt trip for past transgressions. Too late for future improvements. I always liked to play it in advance with the opportunistic, “What would I do in that situation?” This has afforded me the chance to make decisions, not always the correct ones, that I could defend to my children at a future date. “What did you do about gun violence after the murders at Sandy Hook Elementary School, dad?” I can answer that.

But kleptocrats answer to neither guilt nor history. To the question, “How can you sleep at night?” Trump answers, “Fine, either in the White House or in one of my gold palaces.” To the question, “What did you do about climate change?” Trump will answer, “Got us out of the Paris Climate Accord, watched the icebergs melt and the polar bears starve to death (before poor Don Jr. and Eric could shoot them to death), watched Florida sink into the Atlantic, and spent my gazillion, tax-free dollars golfing and eating KFC. I’ll be dead before the air is too toxic to breathe and burns you to ashes. Now go pay your taxes, suckers.”

 

Simplicity Fatigue

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There must be a term to describe simplicity fatigue, that feeling you get when your Uncle Know-it-all posts something on Facebook or Twitter which stuns you into open-mouthed disbelief at their lack of a fundamental understanding of a situation or their simplistic, childlike solution to the problem. Fatigue occurs after seeing “solutions” like this posted repeatedly by simplistic, linear-thinking people. Let us face facts. The problems facing our state, country and world are not simple. There are no more low-hanging fruit. To assume that there is a simple solution to a complex situation should invite derision. The mind-numbingly simplistic solutions I hear to these complex issues make me shake my head and fear for my children’s future. I’m not saying I have the solution, but I know enough to look beyond the basic. Politicians, who, with access to intelligence and reporting should know better, play to the simple-minded in the public for support of dangerous, short-sighted solutions.

Gun violence prevention is not an easy problem to solve. ISIS is not an easy development to understand. Neither is Afghanistan, Iraq, Iran, Syria, Lebanon, or Israel. Or race relations, curing cancer, or parsing different religions. But to assume that there is a simple solution to all of the myriad complications within a given issue is feeble minded at best and dangerous at worst. The inability of most of the public to see more than one chess move ahead is frightening. I would worry about these people moving more than one Twister move ahead without causing bodily injury to themselves. Some of them should wear helmets.

But there is a fatigue that builds up over time reading comments to news articles online or in some cases the news article itself, never mind trying to follow the logic some display on Facebook, Twitter or some other social media. In some cases, they would be hysterically funny if they weren’t so deadly serious. And I’m not talking about grammar. That’s a discussion for an entirely different day. I’m talking about the rabid, linear “thinker” who cannot possibly understand the nuances of a given situation enough to rationally attempt to apply Occam’s razor.

Perhaps it is the fact that I’m still grieving the loss of my wife and father. Perhaps it is the downcast mindset I wake with each day because of this. But the social media fatigue I feel right now because of these linear thinking people makes me want to walk away from the computer, turn off the television and go read a book. And then I think of my children. If I walk away, who will fight for them? If I take a step back from any activism I engage in, are there those who will take up the slack? If decisions are made by those who show up, what right do I have to abstain and then complain? I need a way to regroup, recharge, and replenish in order to keep engaged. Perhaps turning away from it all for a while is the solution. I just hope there are enough like-minded people to carry on without me for a while.

Stupidity Fatigue

Head in HandsThere is a saying in the lottery industry when the public will not purchase tickets for a seemingly high jackpot called “jackpot fatigue.” It is caused by the ever increasing and ever publicized jackpots always available to the public. The public has seen it all before and heard it all before and nothing new can be said about the jackpot total to get them to the convenience store to purchase a ticket. It’s all been done before.

I find myself suffering a similar kind of fate lately regarding the public at large. Events that used to anger me now no longer pique my interest or at least no longer send me to my computer and my Twitter feed where I would once fire off a pithy comment. Twitter especially has become the bastion of trolls ready to engage in bumper sticker based retorts and troglodyte tantrums rather than the necessary thought out debates. It is the AM radio of the internet.

I feel guilty for abandoning those things about which I am still passionately concerned: gun violence prevention, women’s rights, protecting my children from all manner of political stupidity, animal welfare, etc., etc, but I know that there are still those out there whom I trust to carry the ball downfield while I suffer this miasmatic ennui. I still read and I still write, just not at the same temperature as before.

Right now there are about 300 GOP candidates running for president, so there is still time for me to come out of this spin and focus the laser. Right now the moms and dads of Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense in America are meeting in Minneapolis to discuss next steps. In another universe, a universe where I wasn’t working with hospice to care for my dying wife, I would have joined them to learn what I could do to better fight gun violence in blood soaked America. But that is not the universe in which I currently reside. I do not make excuses, but only present facts. I am tired, physically and mentally.

I am tired of the stupidity of the southern white male with his pickup truck emblazoned with hunting decals and NRA stickers, tired of the stupidity of religious hypocrites festooned with Christian stickers on their cars and quick to criticize anyone not their mirror image. I am tired of the stupidity of the 300 GOP candidates running for president who are fighting for air time by reaching for the lowest common denominator in their demographic and ultimately the shallowest of the public gene pool. I am tired of cancer and the stupidity of its suicidal march toward the murder of its host. I am tired of the stupidity. I am suffering from stupidity fatigue.