So there I am, wondering why I cannot talk to [redacted] without by brain freezing up and generally me being reduced to an inert, totally passive spanner with the total inability to coherently speak/form sentences/carry a conversation.
So I thought, "lets find out!"... (and so lulz shall be had...)
Let me show you the results... In true Linux nerd style, ala BASH Shell session!
<session opened: BASH>
infodox@localhost:~$ talk [redacted]
Permission Denied.
infodox@localhost:~$ sudo bash
Password: *****************
root@localhost:~# talk [redacted]
Segmentation Fault.
Core Dumped.
root@localhost:~# which talk
/usr/bin/talk
root@localhost:~# ./crashtracer.pl -c "/usr/bin/talk [redacted]"
[+] Hooking /usr/bin/talk binary...
[*] Attempting to trigger the crash...
[+] Crash detected! Parsing Data!
[*] Heuristic: Stack Overflow Detected
[*] /usr/bin/talk EIP: x6c696c79
[*] /usr/bin/talk ESP: x6c696c79
[*] Buffersize: 4
[+] Testing is RCE possible...[!]
[-] It is only DoS, could not load shellcode.
[!] Solution/migitation: Don't try to talk to [redacted]
root@localhost:~# exit
infodox@localhost:~$ exit
<session closed>
So, it seems that every time I try talking to "[redacted]" it simply causes me to buffer overflow and "crash". or at least, my brain does. A simple, logical solution is to just avoid "[redacted]", but that does not FIX the issue at hand. It seems there is some underlying issue here that leads to this "denial of service" condition...
Perhaps I know "[redacted]" is smarter than me? More socially capable than I? Probably (definately) a better reader of people than me? That shit probably makes me feel insecure, likely makes me feel outmatched. Possibly.
The depth of feeling I have found for [redacted] likely is a major factor too. Not a day goes by without them somehow appearing in my mind at random...
This shit has gotta end soon. Somehow. Be it in a happily ever after fairyland ending or with lulzy rejection and a /bin/rm -rf of a few files, it HAS to end. Else it may well destroy me, or at least ROYALLY fuck me over. I know it is causing me some serious instability and taking up FAR too many clock cycles of late to be healthy in its current state... All I need now is the time and the place.
<footnotes>
* those that know me IRL will know I often see my mind as a Linux box that crashes more than Windows Vista. They also will know I use "terminal sessions" as a visualisation method to structure thoughts.
** For those of you who really know your shit, there is a clue as to who "[redacted]" may well be. I left the clue there for the same reason I do ANYTHING. I did it for the fucking lulz.
*** No, I have NOT yet written said auto-awesome Perl script to test crashes for RCE... YET!!
Monday, 30 January 2012
Plastic People (Fuck Em!)
You know these people. Plastic people. Less real than a fake fucking Christmas tree. Those people with polymorphic personalities, those metamorphic men and women who are more malleable than modelling clay, more pliable than play-doh.
Synthetic sincerity, laughter never quite reaching their eyes, blending in and fading out, selling themselves with lies. These are the people, who wish to control our lives. They change at the drop of a hat and will stab you right in the back - if it is profitable to their aims.
Regarding their aims, I have yet to understand what exactly they are. Who knows what they really seek. Is it money? Sex? Power? Popularity? I know the theories that they merely wish to sleep around, but it does not "feel" correct. Maybe it is due to their own lack of a sense of identity that they do it.
Fucked if I know.
All I know is how to spot 'em and that they are very dangerous. I do not plan on printing "Your guide to spotting the plastic people!" or anything, so let this just be an advisory. Those motherfuckers are EVERYWHERE. Too capable of blending in, yet also standing out. Too "acceptable" yet also "unique" enough to appear individual. They are not the same as the "Socially Acceptable" or the "Mold Made Man" but they may be mistaken as part of said flock.
So be warned. Your comerades may not be all that they seem...
(btw, my anger at these arseholes is visible in the tag cloud. They are the reason I would be wearing a fucking tinfoil hat by now!)
Synthetic sincerity, laughter never quite reaching their eyes, blending in and fading out, selling themselves with lies. These are the people, who wish to control our lives. They change at the drop of a hat and will stab you right in the back - if it is profitable to their aims.
Regarding their aims, I have yet to understand what exactly they are. Who knows what they really seek. Is it money? Sex? Power? Popularity? I know the theories that they merely wish to sleep around, but it does not "feel" correct. Maybe it is due to their own lack of a sense of identity that they do it.
Fucked if I know.
All I know is how to spot 'em and that they are very dangerous. I do not plan on printing "Your guide to spotting the plastic people!" or anything, so let this just be an advisory. Those motherfuckers are EVERYWHERE. Too capable of blending in, yet also standing out. Too "acceptable" yet also "unique" enough to appear individual. They are not the same as the "Socially Acceptable" or the "Mold Made Man" but they may be mistaken as part of said flock.
So be warned. Your comerades may not be all that they seem...
(btw, my anger at these arseholes is visible in the tag cloud. They are the reason I would be wearing a fucking tinfoil hat by now!)
Friday, 27 January 2012
Self distraction. (Confessions of an infosec obsessive)
It is all just a distraction. All of it. The reason I spent four years studying the precise art and science of blowing things up, and the reason I cannot as much as look at a lock without considering picking it. The same reason I cannot browse the web without thinking of all the possible vulnerabilities in the sites I visit.
It is the reason I cannot walk around the city with a beautiful lady without thinking of wireless mapping. It is *all* just another distraction.
I cannot give too many examples, but as a case in point. When did my infosec career (blackhat or whitehat) really begin to kick off? When did my last proper relationship take a nosedive? Notice any correlation?
Engaging the mind to disengage the "heart"*, the perfect self-defence mechanism, the ideal preventative medicine. Keep the brain ticking over on some complex problems to stop it from even considering ANY emotional "stuff". Makes one look heartless, but really, it is just a symptom of fear.
Around the city I walked with her, and when she asked was I OK with just seemingly wandering I gave the (lame) excuse that I was mapping the place. That I had some semblance of a plan. Avoiding the fact that I was simply enjoying her company. Self delusion to the nth degree. Dodging the fact that someone may - does - mean more to me than just data.
When I proceeded to effect my egress, and started heading home, did I think about what it could have been? No. Too painful, too much possibility for hurt. Instead, I analysed my mapping data. Instead, I buried myself in my work.
If and when she comes to mind (often) I simply bury it all beneath the ever growing pile of information. Ideas. The 9am inspiration and 10am realization are proof of this.
A solution needs to be found in this, something both coldly logical and enough to appease the emotional one inside. Something simple and effective, for a simple answer solves most questions and bedamned the consequences of "asking".
All chance is either 1 or 0.
Null or Valid.
Yes or No.
Black or White.
The shades of grey are an illusion caused by our own moral delusions and an aspiration to justify our actions. It can go one of two ways and while one is the "perfect" outcome, the other is acceptable only due to the fact it will change nothing, merely /bin/rm a few files and cause temporary system instability.
Nothing of great value can be lost. Everything of value will be lost. A simultaneously paradoxical equation resulting in 0 or 1 depending on the perspective.
None of it may make ANY sense to you, but, oh well, makes flawless sense to me. Because it is not about explaining myself to you, but moreso about explaining myself to me. The fact that it is published may seemingly negate that but no, it was posted for my own amusement**, basically the same reason I did ANYTHING.
"I did it for the lulz".
The lulz, meaning of course, as a distraction. For fun. To divert, appease and slow the mind. To stem a tide of both boredom and emotional dilemma - essentially a distraction.
Don't understand? Doesn't matter. Perhaps scroll up and try again.
* The matter of the "heart" is a funny one. As a closet romantic I find the notion pleasing, wheras as a scientist I find it amusing seeing as it is, essentially, a fucking pump. As a cynic I find it hilarious as often it really is a metaphor for the "small head", but as a human being I find it a lovely way to explain matters of "love".
**Publishing this may also have been a form of catharsis, a means of cleansing or purging the mind. It probably did not fucking work anyway. Oh well.
It is the reason I cannot walk around the city with a beautiful lady without thinking of wireless mapping. It is *all* just another distraction.
I cannot give too many examples, but as a case in point. When did my infosec career (blackhat or whitehat) really begin to kick off? When did my last proper relationship take a nosedive? Notice any correlation?
Engaging the mind to disengage the "heart"*, the perfect self-defence mechanism, the ideal preventative medicine. Keep the brain ticking over on some complex problems to stop it from even considering ANY emotional "stuff". Makes one look heartless, but really, it is just a symptom of fear.
Around the city I walked with her, and when she asked was I OK with just seemingly wandering I gave the (lame) excuse that I was mapping the place. That I had some semblance of a plan. Avoiding the fact that I was simply enjoying her company. Self delusion to the nth degree. Dodging the fact that someone may - does - mean more to me than just data.
When I proceeded to effect my egress, and started heading home, did I think about what it could have been? No. Too painful, too much possibility for hurt. Instead, I analysed my mapping data. Instead, I buried myself in my work.
If and when she comes to mind (often) I simply bury it all beneath the ever growing pile of information. Ideas. The 9am inspiration and 10am realization are proof of this.
A solution needs to be found in this, something both coldly logical and enough to appease the emotional one inside. Something simple and effective, for a simple answer solves most questions and bedamned the consequences of "asking".
All chance is either 1 or 0.
Null or Valid.
Yes or No.
Black or White.
The shades of grey are an illusion caused by our own moral delusions and an aspiration to justify our actions. It can go one of two ways and while one is the "perfect" outcome, the other is acceptable only due to the fact it will change nothing, merely /bin/rm a few files and cause temporary system instability.
Nothing of great value can be lost. Everything of value will be lost. A simultaneously paradoxical equation resulting in 0 or 1 depending on the perspective.
None of it may make ANY sense to you, but, oh well, makes flawless sense to me. Because it is not about explaining myself to you, but moreso about explaining myself to me. The fact that it is published may seemingly negate that but no, it was posted for my own amusement**, basically the same reason I did ANYTHING.
"I did it for the lulz".
The lulz, meaning of course, as a distraction. For fun. To divert, appease and slow the mind. To stem a tide of both boredom and emotional dilemma - essentially a distraction.
Don't understand? Doesn't matter. Perhaps scroll up and try again.
* The matter of the "heart" is a funny one. As a closet romantic I find the notion pleasing, wheras as a scientist I find it amusing seeing as it is, essentially, a fucking pump. As a cynic I find it hilarious as often it really is a metaphor for the "small head", but as a human being I find it a lovely way to explain matters of "love".
**Publishing this may also have been a form of catharsis, a means of cleansing or purging the mind. It probably did not fucking work anyway. Oh well.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)