Category Archives: Pop culture

The cultural impact of rootkits

Turns out, the problems with Dad’s fastest computer is an evil rootkit in the Windows partition. He’s not sure if the rootkit came from one of Sony-BMG’s CDs, with their ill-conceived rootkit designed to stop people from copying the CDs. But wherever Dad’s rootkit came from, it made me want to learn more about rootkits and related malware so I can protect the computers I use — and if you don’t care about the gory details, you can skip to the cultural commentary in the last paragraph of this post.

First, Dad pointed out that if you run a recent version of Windows on your computer, you can protect yourself from rootkits fairly simply. Set up a domain user account, and do just about everything from that user account, because when you’re logged in as a user account Windows will prompt you for an administrator password most times when there is an attempt to modify operating system files. (Fortunately, the Windows machines at church are already set up that way.)

But even if you’ve set up your computer that way, you have no reason to be smug. As Larry Selzer points out in a column over at eWeek, any computer user can get prompted to enter their administrator password at the behest of malware because…

…normal users will probably see this situation as similar to all the other times they installed software. Every now and then they need to provide these credentials and they’ll just do it this time too….

…so we’ll just have to be even more suspicious, er, careful.

Second, what to do about my Mac? Mac users are not quite as safe from rootkit-type malware as we’d like to think, according to The Unofficial Apple Weblog. And Adam over at the blog “Emergent Chaos”, writes:

…while the default user is in the “admin” group, the admin group is not extremely powerful…. Often, to install software, you need to type your password. That’s because the admin group is not powerful enough for some important install types. Usually. For some install types. Not other times. And that ‘not other times’ will be the path that attackers use. It’s the path that you use dragging apps from a dmg (disk image) to /Applications.

So I’m making sure I use the Mac only from within a user account, unless absolutely necessary. And I’m trying to remember to never, never, never type in that administrator password unless I really know why I’m being prompted for it. And I’ll just have to be even more suspicious, er, careful.

For now, Dad is running his infected computer primarily using the Linux partition, since he has to meet a deadline using the software in that partition. Eventually he will have to completely erase the hard drive, and re-install operating systems in both partitions, along with all his applications and data files. We talked about safe computing, and Dad’s future strategy will be to use an older, slower computer (with no critical files on its hard drive) to access email and the Web; the fast computer will be reserved for his research and consulting work.

To my mind, this whole Sony rootkit debacle raises an interesting cultural point. I have had to learn way more about rootkits than I wanted to know. Computers are still not the mainstream, foolproof consumer goods the manufacturers would have us believe. You still have to be something of a geek to use them — and you have to be willing and able to hire a real geek on a regular basis to take care of the really bad problems. In short, in spite of the fact that something over half of U.S. households have a computer, computers are nowhere near as mainstream as telephones or TVs (I mean, have you ever heard of a telephone geek, or a TV geek?), and seem unlikely to become that mainstream for some time to come.

BND?

Friday is “Buy Nothing Day (BND),” according to Adbusters, an anti-consumerism organization based in British Columbia. Check out the BND Web site at www.adbusters.org/metas/eco/bnd/ and scroll down and click on the pink piggy for a sometimes-amusing ad spot promoting the day.

I find it easy to be cynical about BND. It’s easy to point out that even if consumers don’t buy anything on BND, they’ll just turn around and buy the same amount of stuff some other day. In which case, what’s the point of BND? Well, the point for me is personal sanity. Long before I ever heard of BND, I avoided stores the Friday after Thanksgiving, just because trying to go near any store on that busiest of all shopping days is simply crazy-making.

Besides, I can’t stand the Musak version of “The Little Drummer Boy” — “ba-rump-ba-bump-bump” does not sound better backed by an overly-sweet string section.

Do-it-yourself culture?

Carol picked up a bunch of funky magazines at “Newsbreak,” the store off Route 6 on Pope’s Island behind the Dunkin Donuts (“Over 7,000 titles”). Among the magazines she picked up is Out Your Backdoor: A Catazeen of Homegrown Adventure and Culture. The catalog part has a bunch of indy-press books including titles like Dream Boats: A Rare Look at Junks, Outriggers, Dhows, and More, and Momentum: Chasing the Olympic Dream (a bunch of Americans pursuing a gold medal in XC skiing), and Recumbent Bicycle, touted as “the only book about this booming and innovative field of bicycling.” The catalog also sells things like “Move-It” car magnets, which have large legends like “Paddler!”, “Geek!”, and “Bike!” — and which say in smaller type, “If you like me… take me… keep me moving! The social bumper sticker — Public property” –an interesting alternative to the usual hostile bumperstickers and ribbon-themed car magnets.

The magazine part of Out Your Backdoor is even more interesting, with a couple of longer articles and lots of little bits and pieces about “do-it-yourself outdoor culture” — like a reference to an ultralight movement in backpacking where you make your own gear, and a bit about Rivendell Bicycles, where you can still get bicycles that you can strip down and rebuild and completely maintain yourself. In other words, a look at some serious outdoorspeople who haven’t bought in to the culture of bright nylon and spandex which has turned the outdoors into just another consumer commodity.

Didn’t know there were any people like this left in the world. I wonder if Out Your Backdoor is a cultural anomaly, or if we’re seeing the beginnings of a reaction to mass consumer culture?…

Wow

Carol just let me know about this amazing cultural event that’s coming up. Yes, it’s Ukulele Noir, with an all-star cast of uke performers including Greg Hawkes (formerly of the Cars), Mark Occhinero (a jazz ukulelist), and none other than Sonic Uke. Well, OK, Sonic Uke are pretty bad but they’re hilarious.

Only problem is, the concert starts at 8:30 in Somerville. Greg Hawkes probably won’t come on till much later than that. And I’ve got to preach the next morning.

Good angel: “No, don’t go, you need to be fresh for preaching.”
Bad angel: “Haha, don’t listen to the good angel, go hear Greg Hawkes.”
Good angel: “But you’ll be exhausted.”
Bad angel: “One word: Ukuleles….”
Who will win — the good angel or the bad angel? Only time will tell.

What th…?!

Sitting at the table in our apartment having lunch today, reading Mark Twain, and every now and then gazing out at the sunny courtyard of the Whaling Museum. Suddenly, I realize that there are two eight-foot-long white sperm whales in the courtyard, lined up one behind the other, facing me with their heads up, smiling with pendulous lower lip hanging down, and tails pointing smartly to starboard. I stand up to get a better view. No, I was not imagining them. Funny I didn’t see them before. Must be some exhibit for the Whaling Museum. Back to lunch and Mark Twain.

Five minutes later, I look up again. Now there are four white whales, two ranks of two, all facing me and smiling, all four tails pointing smartly to starboard. I know the other two whales weren’t there five minutes ago — were they? I get up to look. No one standing in the courtyard. No truck or delivery vehicle on the street. Who put them there? Maybe I just missed them before — ? Oh well. Back to lunch and Mark Twain.

Five minutes later, a fifth white whale appears, smiling at me with nose in the air and tail pointing smartly to starboard — but this time, I see the two guys in Whaling Museum polo shirts just straightening up after setting this last whale down. At last I know — that’s where the whales have been coming from.

Sucking up

Friday is my sabbath day — no work, just personal and spiritual renewal. This week, I spent my sabbath at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. The trolley drops you off past the front entrance of the museum, and right now you can’t help but notice the two racing sail boats cleverly supported above the grass in front of the museum’s front entrance.

The two boats, former contenders for the America’s Cup, are beautiful objects in of themselves, like the helicopter and racing cars in the Museum of Modern Art in New York. Unfortunately, the boats are really there to draw attention to a new exhibit, “Things I Love: The Many Collections of William I. Koch.” It feels like the show’s only reason for existence is to puff up the ego of William Koch in order for the museum to get some kind of donation(s) out of a very wealthy man. Nothing wrong with that — puffing up the egos of rich patrons has been going on since the beginning of the history of art. But the show itself is a bit of an embarrassment. The collections show little sign of informed and intelligent taste, merely signs of overwhelming wealth. Not recommended.

A few more days

Headline on the front page of today’s New Bedford Standard-Times:

LOSS PUTS SOX BEHIND YANKS

I know the Curse is over after last season, but I had a hard time reading that headline. Too many bad memories.

What I really want to have happen this weekend, for the final showdown between the Sox and the hated Yankees, is to be transported out to George and Walt’s, a neighborhood bar near hte Rockridge BART station in Oakland, where I could sit sipping one of their perfect martinis while watching the games with my friend, Michelle. Universalist that she is, Michelle is always filled with hope, certain that it will turn out all right in the end. She could explain the things I still don’t get (like, I still don’t get this middle reliever strategy — why put a pitcher in for two outs? — but Michelle can make me understand it). Yeah, that’s where I could watch the games this weekend — you just can’t feel the same way about Curse flashbacks when you’re under the bright California sun.

Coming out our apartment this evening, I was greeted with a huge, perfect rainbow. The red was particularly bright because of the red setting sun. I watched it until the sun faded, and the rainbow faded into the gray clouds rushing overhead, until all that was left was a red pillar of fire on the northeastern horizon.

No more floods, but fire next time. You hear that, Yankees? You’re gonna go up in flames this weekend!

This just in…

This just in via email from Craig, a reader of this blog out in Wisconsin:

Happy “Talk Like a Pirate” Day!

I wish people would tell me these things before I go to work in the morning. A whole day of normal talk wasted… wasted I tell you.

ARrrrrgggh.

Thank ye fer tellin’ us, matey. So, dear readers, don’t be wastin’ the rest of yar day — start talkin’ like the pirate you truly arrrrr, shiver me timbers.

Hi-tech, lo-tech

Here in New Bedford, we have perhaps the most perfect weather possible — sunny, light breezes, cool, dry. So you’d think I’d be out enjoying this beautiful day, wouldn’t you? Nope. I’m dealing with computer problems. (If you’re a techno-geek, it’s preferences problems for Mac OS 10.3 which prevent the Finder from launching.)

I sat in front of my laptop all morning, and at one point I had this sudden memory of bending over the engine of my ’69 Plymouth Valiant, twiddling with the carbuerator. Suddenly it hit me. The evolution of computers today is about as far along as the evolution of automobiles was in the 1950’s — back when you were lucky if a car lasted five years, and you needed to have a tune-up twice a year or the car wouldn’t run, and when basically cars were pretty unreliable. Therefore, my ’69 Plymouth Valiant was further along the engineering evolutionary path (and therefore more reliable) than any computer made today.

Which is kinda depressing to think about.

Worse, when I had to bend over the engine of my old Valiant at least I could do it outside if the day was as beautiful as today is. At least I got to use my hands, and move around. But not with computers. Computer maintenance means sitting for hours indoors and doing nothing but typing.

I admit to some nostalgic fondness for my old Valiant, which finally died because there was such a big leak in the gas tank, my mechanic wouldn’t even let me drive it into his garage (think: “boom”). And I admit to some nostalgic fondness for my old Mac SE running OS 7, a nice stable operating system on nice stable hardware. My nostalgic fondness is completely overpowered by my desire to see a qunatum leap in engineering evolution of computers to the point where they are as reliable, and as long-lasting, as my ’93 Toyota Corolla.

Back to the Mac, as I try once more to get it working.