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Warning: Lots of geekiness below. Hold on to your hats, or fedoras, if you have them.

This week my blog came under attack and it was a nasty one. The attack was spam related which is no surprise; my blog is frequently home to comments featuring diatribes of penis size and mortgage purchases. What was a surprise was the scale of the attack. This wasn’t just one comment about love in all the hard places. It was more than 150 of them.

In fact, it was one comment for every single blog entry on the site. It wasn’t creative but it definitely was a pain in my ass. The most scraping hemorrhoid was that Movable Type, my blog tool of choice, has no efficient interface for deleting multiple comments across blog entries. I’d have to do this one by one. It could take a while — a long while.

I turned to a friend for assistance while I downloaded the newest version of Movable Type. See, Movable Type isn’t blind to the problem and I’m not the first person to be annoyed. The kind folks who write MT are working on the problem. They are just a little behind the spammers at this point.

One useful weapon already included with MT is IP blocking. Basically, I can stop someone from a specific IP address from posting comments. I’ve already added the IP address of my aggressor. This, however, is far from comprehesive. IP addresses are often handed out dynamically. That is, you get a new one every time you hop onto the internet. Worse, some spammers are already working around this, manually switching IP addresses every time they add another advertisement-laced comment. It’s really only one way to slow down the flood.

Mt-Blacklist is another weapon in the fight and was a lifesaver in light of my problems. It checks each comment in your blog against a large set of expressions that are normally included in spam. From my tests, it seems to do a good job. Even better, it provides an interface to delete the guilty parties all at once. One click and my trash went away. In the future, a tool like this or a bayesian equivalent will almost be required to keep the mosquito-like spammers away.

I’m not as excited about a coming feature of Movable Type that would surely deal with the problem of spam much more efficiently: comment registration. The basic idea is that a blog author could force commenters to register with their site, providing a user name and password of some sort. This provides the ability to screen prospective commenters and provides an extra barrier to the scripts that take advantage of blogging’s open architecture. What doesn’t thrill me is that barriers are placed not just between myself and the spammers; they are placed between my blog and any potential reader with something to say. I get few enough comments as it is. Add a registration progress and my site statistics may be the only way I can tell that anyone at all is even stopping by (you can never be sure that anyone actually reads anything).

It is nice, however, to see the MT’s authors attempting to tackle the problem. In the coming years, the problem of spam must be addressed directly by the tool, not just by an optional plug-in.

Speaking of attacks, I’ve acquired an almost flu like symtom in the last week in the form of a tiny penguin. I’ve suddenly acquired the Linux bug. This isn’t the first time. This seems to happen in regular intervals of about 6 to 9 months. I wake up one day and have a strong desire to acquire the latest distribution. There no warning and, generally, no real reason behind my want. My inner geek must supply my computer with an entirely new system of operation.

So I installed the newest version of Fedora this week. That install was fairly painless but things didn’t work on my first, or second, attempt. I first thought I’d try out Suse Linux. A friend of mine seemed to like it and I’m always up for a new flavor of lollipop – God knows there are nearly the same number of flavors of Linux. It wasn’t happening. Suse doesn’t want to hand you the keys. They want you to download them during installation. This, in my mind, is fine. Every distribution involves some amount of downloading. What isn’t fine is when the base install can’t seem to find the proper drivers for my network card. The math was simple: No network card == no operating system.

My next attempt involved Mandrake 9.2. This would be an upgrade for my second computer. Again, I ran into troubles and, again, it was hardware related. Mandrake 8.0 didn’t like my Logitech MouseMan+. Neither did its younger brother. Some not-so-quality time with XFree86Config convinced me to go another direction.

So, Fedora, Red Hat’s free little cousin is now safely installed. I have to say I’m impressed. Linux makes neat leaps and bounds every time I spend my time away from it. Driver support improves and every new version sports a fancy feature, or fancy widget, I’m glad to see included. It’s almost like watching someone you know lose weight. If you saw them every day, you’d hardly notice. Introduce time and distance and the changes are readily apparent. I now have a new sandbox and I must play.

And play I have. Between the time it took to secure my blog and my new operating system installations, I’ve spent a lot of time in front of the computer fiddling with switches. That’s not surprising in my household but it’s certainly different than doing something more my style, like playing Diablo II.

I’m so ashamed. Along with the wife, I’ve watched the first three episodes of American Idol. Sadly, it was no accident. I actually meant to do so. My excuse centered around the fact that I wanted to see the beginning of the competition. That’s when all the really, really bad singers show up. I thought it would be hysterical. I was not disappointed.

Some of these folks were downright awful. I mean horrible. The biggest train wrecks are by far the most entertaining. Scat girl gave an interesting interpretation of, well, something (dobedowah). The favorite performance of both my wife and I was a rendition of Elvis’s “Faaring in ruff with rue.” It’s just a classic.

Simon, who’s job is to annoy, did it well. He mentions that he feels it is his responsibility to give folks a reality check and he does, in his own signature way. I started the show disagreeing with him. There’s no need to stomp on someone’s hopes. There’s no requirement for him to throw a wrench into someone’s dreams. But then I watched a little more.

Some of the folks need the whipping — need the sarcasm. A lot of contestants are adamant of their ability even though their performance leaves no doubts about their lack of talent. Mom and dad may have you convinced that you are good, great, and wonderful but stick with us here. You aren’t in your living room. You aren’t singing along to the radio. Yikes! And what the hell is with the M.C. Hammer dance?

In any case, I don’t think you can call me a fan of the show; the good singers don’t particularly interest me. However, while these embarrassments are featured I might continue to tune in. You know, just for the giggles.

A surreal thing happened to me last night as I logged into my home computer for some work at 11:00 pm. I realized I wasn’t alone. It seemed that everyone and their mother was doing the same as I: spending a quiet Wednesday evening working in front of their PCs.

My work night started with a little email. Quick replies came from both my project manager and the project tech lead. I sent an IM to a coworker that was mired in tasks to complete. His response made it clear that he wouldn’t be clocking out anytime soon. I assigned a problem to another coworker. A response to the issue was immediate. A little later a software problem report landed on my desk (figuratively, of course). It was entered by one tester and edited by another — all after the stroke of midnight. I was by no means alone. In fact, my virtual workspace was a little crowded.

One interesting aspect of the whole thing was that many of the folks I interacted with that night were in the comfort of their own home. The wonders of telecommuting mean that a view of the office is no longer a requirement of actually performing work. People could contribute their time without having to factor in their actual location and many took advantage of the opportunity.

I can’t say I was surprised — I’ve worked with several of these folks for a while and have no doubts of their dedication to the job — but color me impressed. I didn’t really expect the virtual workplace to work so smoothly and my coworkers again demonstrated why I hold them in high regard. That’s pretty cool and I’m always looking for cool things when 1:00 am is quitting time.

I don’t know about everyone else but I’m sick of hearing about Pete Rose and his troubles with baseball. It seems that every year, normally around Hall of Fame time, he grumbles and the media turns their eye on him. It’s playoff time people. Let’s forget about Pete. We’ve got football to talk about.

This year it’s especially bad, given that he’s finally dropped his version of a bomb. He lied about gambling. You don’t say? Next you’ll tell us that Clinton did have sexual relations with that woman. Uh Pete, got anything else to talk about?

He took 14 years to make the admission — 14 years of bold face lies to his peers, the public, and even an author of a previous biography — and the reasons are pretty obvious. He wants to sell his new book and he wants one last shot at the Hall of Fame, not necessarily in that order.

My personal opinion about Pete’s status in baseball has nothing to do with the Hall. If Rosey Pete is going to be in baseball, there is absolutely no question that he should be in the hall. His play was exemplary.

That said, I don’t believe he deserves to be associated with baseball at all. He committed the ultimate sin in sports: he threw questions — deadly questions — onto the field. Wagering adds a question mark to the end of every play. Why did the outfielder drop that ball? How come the pitcher can suddenly get no one out?

People often talk about the Hall of Fame being about accomplishments on the field. Off the field crimes — be they of personality , drug usage, or even criminal acts — do not factor into the decision. I generally agree. The problem with Pete is his acts did happen on the field of play, rather he bet from the dugout or not. His wagering cannot escape the spirit of his crime. His gambling landed him right where he should be, on the outside looking in.

I’m very much hoping that the commisioner leaves his ass on the bench where he belongs. The only person that would really benefit from Rose being in the hall is Rose himself. It would soften the resolve of a lifetime ban and do nothing but harm the sport of baseball.

A lot of sports writers are of the opinion that, eventually, he’ll get in, despite the fact that this admission has changed more than a couple minds in the opposite direction. I’m hoping they’re wrong. Maybe the commisioner will act like one for a change. But, then again, I wouldn’t bet on it.

I’ve been trying to read the NY Post’s assessment of Take Two‘s stock. Take Two, for those who aren’t gaming inclined, publishes the Grand Theft Auto games. The article blasts the company for the content of its games in a great display of fire and brimstone and, in doing so, is both more than a little self-serving and quite incorrect in the process. Much of the gaming world is up in arms about this piece. I’m still trying to wrestle it down like a moldy sandwich. There are bits of bread that aren’t entirely green, but meat is most definitely rotten and, Lord, how did a rat tail get in here?

It all starts well enough. Christopher Byron, the author of the piece, begins by talking about stock prices. He tells us that Take Two’s stock has been a hot ticket. I agree. Any stock that goes up 500% in a couple of years should be watched with a wary eye. He talks a little, and eventually wraps up with, some recent problems they’ve had with the Securities and Exchange Commission. Again, I share his fears. Any company that gets that many visits from suited men from the Federal government must be held under a certain amount of suspicion.

But then things go to hell. Christopher Byron gets to leave the intended subject — I’m guessing stock prices from the title — behind and launch into a personal tirade, a tirade that is as silly as it is littered with inaccuracies.

He takes Take Two to task for its products:

Unusual? They have a couple of runaway hits (the aforementioned Grand Theft Auto games), a couple of great games (Mafia, Age of Wonders), some good games (Railroad Tycoon, Serious Sam), a bunch of other stuff, and — get this — a good helping of children’s games (Dora, Piglet’s BIG Game). This sounds like a great resume for a publisher. Oh, and yes I said publisher; Take Two doesn’t even make these games. They only market and distribute them (“produce”, as Mr. Byron says, is a bit misleading). Maybe Mr. Byron should cast that evil stare at Rockstar North, whose games are almost exclusively violent in one way or another (they are indeed the creators of the Grand Theft Auto games). Then again, that may require him to do some research, click on a link or two, and have a clue about which he speaks.

He then discusses the real sand in his underwear: one particular game published by Take Two, Grand Theft Auto: Vice City.

First of all, GTA does not look “incredibly and shockingly” real. Here’s a screenshot and here’s another. What do you think? It’s almost cartoon-like in its appearance. Of course, these are just my eyes. My Byron may classify Pac Man as incredibly realistic depiction of circular construction paper consuming electrified food and colored bed coverings at enormous rate.

Second, sure you can steal a gun and shoot the police. You can entertain a prostitute and kill her. But you don’t have to so. It’s an open world; that’s really the beauty of the whole game. You do what you want. Nobody is stopping you and the punishments aren’t very harsh when you cross the very faded line. Mr. Byron, I suggest you spend your playtime doing other things, like furthering the story. Really, you should be ashamed. There is much more to do than watching the back of old Chevy bop up and down.

Finally, he gives us his speech. These are the lines to make them tremble. These are the lines to get people to read his article. This is his chance to step up on the soapbox.

People, and I say this with much more respect than he, this is insane. He can’t be serious. He simply cannot believe that playing a game — and let’s not forget that’s what this is — can even compare to pedophilia or stealing from folks for personal gain. The only plausible reason for making a statement such as this is to preach to the morally superior choir. He understands his intended audience. He wants to sing along, solidify their fears and misguided opinions.

It matters not that most lack a proper frame a reference. Not everyone has a copy of Vice City on their shelf. Not everyone has the initiative to witness its assured banality. That’s unnecessary. Opinions are formulated from the news media — this news media.

It’s a prostitution simulator despite the fact that you need to actively seek them out. It’s a killing simulator even though half the games I play have a higher causality count (including Super Mario Bros. — those poor turtles). It’s controversia; it must be evil.

They forget for a second that this game is an interactive version of any great mob movie (in fact the voice of the main character, Ray Liotta, is famous for his movie work). These things are for our kids, despite the fact that most studies or surveys say the average age of the modern gamer is somewhere between 24 and 27. I certainly don’t need Mr. Byron to look after the content that crosses my television and I don’t appreciate his efforts.

I also have no need for incredibly stupid suggestions such as this. This is a game and, it seems that I again must make this point for Mr. Byron’s sake, just a game. Comparing Grand Theft Auto to such morally reprehensible acts add flair to his argument. It also reveals him to not be of right mind.

Maybe I should be thankful. His public display of ignorance provides a safe passage into a discussion that leads back to actual financials. He worries that the Grand Theft Auto games encompass too much of Take Two’s paycheck:

Well, duh. Grand Theft Auto III and Grand Theft Auto: Vice City have been the biggest selling videogames of the last couple of years. The competition hasn’t even been close. For a while, they could barely make them fast enough. These sales numbers would impress even EA or Sony, a couple of big boys of the gaming business. I wonder how much of New Line Cinema‘s bottom line was padded with The Lord of the Rings. Having a runaway hit is nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, this should breed excitement. Each Grand Theft Auto has been better than the last. A well established franchise keeps improving with age. Talk about bread and butter.

Mr. Byron blatherings are made all the more obscene by the fact that I’m not entirely convinced that he’s actually played the game. Ok, maybe he picked up a controller for a couple of minutes. Maybe he once witnessed a friend play from across the room. Maybe he peered through a store window. Maybe he once saw a commercial.

I can give no other explanation for his goofy talk. His separation of fantasy and reality is misaligned. I have trouble trying to swallow his arguments. I have more trouble trying to digest what his intolerant views of gaming have to do with his day job. It sounds to me that he’s simply cruising the mean streets of the information superhighway, just looking for trouble. Some of us Vice City game players know exactly how he feels.

A bond between a father and son is immediate but always changing, evolving if you will. If you told me today that I’d love my son more now than the day he was born, I’d have called you a liar. But I do. If you tell me I’ll love him even more a year from today, I’ll give you a crooked eyebrow but not be so quick to doubt your words.

Today is my son’s first birthday and for that I’m thankful. He’s an object of toil but an object of constant delight. Those little legs wander from room to room, carrying the brightest smile in the world. Teeth now decorate that smile, teeth that will soon feast on birthday cake.

The marking of this, his birth day, means that he’s accomplished a lot. A lot of firsts are complete:

First smile. Check.
First laugh. Check.
First word (“Hi”). Check.
First steps. Check.

It’s been an exciting year. Something new lies behind each corner. Each movement is the chance to see something for the very first time. The wife and I learned a lot. We know a little more about taking care of a child. We know a lot more about ourselves.

Happy birthday, son. I may not be too happy to leave the last year, the real year of firsts, behind but I’m quite excited about the year ahead. From your smile, I believe you are too.