Today’s Asshat comes to us from a magical place where there there was never slavery, no judgmentalism, and is completely devoid of religious and political extremism.

     Yes, of course I’m joking.

     He’s from north-central South Carolina.

     I can only assume this is some ridiculous retort to a recent statement I made, “I’m a lot more than just the sum of my experiences…”  But I wonder why he didn’t leave it in the comments, in that context, instead of giving me such impressive ammunition for an Asshat of the Day post?

     Via the Contact form, this so-called Doctor of Psychology writes:

From: Dr. H.T.B., Psy.D
Date: July 31st 2007, 9:34AM

It is wrong to think that you are more than the sum of your experiences.

It is even worse to combine it under religion.
Your deep faith commits you to slavery of a false ideal.
You are subservient to other masters.
You have righteous indignation.
The worse you feel the more you believe.
Your free will disappears.
It is an arrogant philopshopy of exclusion that breeds hatred.

You are the sum of your experiences and nothing more.
Your are flirting with disaster to think otherwise.

     I’m impressed with your amazing powers of observation, dude!  You must have been wearing your tinfoil hat to have such keen insight into all of the secret messages in the post.  *snicker*
     If you got all of that from a blog post, you’re more f$&*ed up than a football bat.  

     Where did you come up with the idea that I had “deep faith?”  Where did you come up with the idea that people who spiritual or religious are a bunch of exclusionary, hateful bastards?
     While I can agree with this viewpoint in certain cases (i.e. followers of former Asshat Award recipient, Fred Phelps), it’s certainly no reason to condemn every one of them.

     Doc, you apparently think anyone who mentions a Maker is a religious zealot, who’s a slave to false ideals and just out there to screw with people.  People like you, perhaps?  Did you have a bad experience with someone who was deeply religious?

     Seriously, I think you might need to try some of the advice you’re so quick to dole out.  Maybe you should take one of those pills…
     You know…
     The ones with a small risk of sexual side effects, but they are rare?
     Of course, both taking the pill and noticing any sexual side effects would require removing your head from your ass… You’re flirting with disaster to think otherwise.

     It’s a little disturbing that someone who claims to be a Doctor of Psychology doesn’t remember the basic tenets of his practice.  Perhaps some remedial study is in order…
     We are all the sum of our experiences, but it’s the way that we deal with them that defines who we are.  We can succumb to bad experiences and reflect them into our every day lives and be unhappy, or learn from them and move on in order to better ourselves and become well-adjusted.
     Me, I’ll take the latter.

I haven’t done an Asshat of the Day Award before but given the situation it seems warranted.

At 7:05AM EDT, a Denial of Service attack started from multiple open proxies from across the globe using a brute force password attack against a previously open service. This has been going on for weeks so it’s not a huge surprise that it eventually succeeded. At 7:21AM EDT, our “fan,” known only as “1 hAppY pUppY,” logged into a shell account and edited some critical files.

[ Edit by Mark : WTF?  Pulled out the IP.  See comments! ]

Our brainiac (and I use this term with utmost facetiousness) came from 67.187.xx.xx (Hostname: c-67-187-xx-xx.hsd1.wa.comcast.net, Aliases: c-67-187-xx-xx.hsd1.tx.comcast.net, c-67-187-xx-xx.hsd1.tn.comcast.net).

Thank you, Random, soon-to-be-ex, Comcast Employee.

To try and pass your skill off as a script (“bl0GituD3 d3fAc3R 1.0b5 bY jT”) while making numerous typos is the mark of a true Genius. And leaving the logs, backup files and history was a brilliant move in that we would expect a hacker to cover his tracks. Leaving the “i” instead of changing it to a “1” in “bl0Gitud3” was a truly brilliant, personal touch. You went far to look like a dolt that we might underestimate your “mAd sk1LLz.”

No. I can’t even say that with a straight face.

You’re an Asshat.

Not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree are you? You’ve only proven yourself to be a disingenuous coward. A brute-force script shows that you have neither skill nor finesse, and far too much time and personal anger on your hands.

Mark said it best the other day.

Some people need to get lives.They should start by getting off the Internet a few hours a day… The real world can be quite … titillating.

I think it should have read:

“Some people need to get laid.”

I’d like to say that my day was the product of many an adulterated hallucinogenic street drug.  You know, the kind you get from the rebellious children of hippies burnt out a long time ago.

Unfortunately a drink called the “Toddy” is responsible.  Cold brewed artisan roasted coffees, the style that takes twelve hours as water slowly drips over the sultry grains of pulverized black gold.  Then, by the grace of God alone, it is poured out of the carafe and served on ice. If you like, there could be room left for cream.  If it were on draft, you’d have to slice it at the end of the pour to take it away from the tap. Visit the CorpCofe.com website to enjoy new refreshment solutions.

It is a buzz like no other.

No side effects to report as of yet.  With the exception of almost clear clairvoyance and purity of thought.  A Zen-like state of premature enlightenment.

The kind of bliss that makes you want to write philosophical rhymes without reason on crumpled pieces of napkins while listening to old school trance music over the P.A.   All the while just sitting in a coffee shop, where you could stare at the walls for hours and be happy.  For the first time in this lifetime, I could be content sitting in an empty room with only my thoughts to entertain me.

Who knows what the night will entail?

What ever it may be, it most definately will be an interesting evening.

     “Hi, I’m Mark.  Can I borrow your breasts for a few hours?  I’ll give ’em back….”
     *blank look*  “Are you serious?”
     “Unless you wanna let me hold ’em for a while…”
     *laughter*  “If I could get rid of them for a few hours, I’d be so happy… I’m actually getting tired of carrying them around!”

     Any questions? 

     Have a good weekend.  😉

My head feels like Rice Krispies in milk.

Snap, crackle, pop.

And it’s a surprisingly good sign…