I am irritated.
I’ve pulled something (got old) at football on Tuesday evening. I think it’s my Extensor Digitorum Longus.
Third down on the left for those not fond of Latin and/or anatomy and/or searching muscle labels.
I’ve googled my symptoms and I’m going to die.
Spoiler: We all are, eventually.
More seriously, I could only manage a gentle 3km wander with the beagle this morning, so I’m looking for answers:
Treatment may consist of physical therapy, muscle relaxers, pain medications, anti-inflammatories, castle milk stout, heat, ice or orthopedic devices.
I may have added slightly to that quote. And I may have to go and get some of that physical therapy tomorrow. I’ll make a start on some of the other stuff this evening.
Even more annoying is the fact that Yoshimi (the new car) looks set to be ready to pick up tomorrow, we have a hectically busy weekend coming up, and driving seems to be the thing that hurts the most.
I am irritated.
With autumn slowly setting in across the Northern hemisphere, could it be that the time for #RBOSS is done? After all, there have been no decent examples for absolutely ages and so I’m pretty sure that it’s totally dead in the wa…
OH. MY. GOD.
The title of this one was the jaunty “Going Fishing”. And what better way to spend what are clearly the final hours of the existence of our planet?
Yes, in about 7.5 billion years, the sun will reach its maximum size as a red giant: its surface will extend beyond Earth’s orbit today by 20 percent and it will shine 3,000 times brighter. It will engulf and destroy our home.
And what you see above is pretty much what things will look like the day before all that happens. There will clearly be no escape, and thus, setting sail out onto the steaming orange Irish Sea in search of whatever boiled fish remain floating upon the surface of the water won’t save you.
Personally, I’d be looking for somewhere with air-conditioning ahead of our inevitable collective destruction, but each to their own, and if frying just off the coast of Ramsey is your thing, it’s probably going to be too hot for anyone to care anyway.
I have made an error. I thought that I would have more time to blog today, but that didn’t happen. A million little jobs and a game of football and suddenly it’s 10pm.
And I’m ready for bed. Running around like a headless chicken for 40 minutes on a five-a-side pitch will have that effect on you. We scored 10 goals this evening and their goalkeeper was still Man of the Match.
I didn’t score any, because their goalkeeper was Man of the Match.
The problem with connecting more and more things to the internet is that more and more things are then more and more vulnerable to being attacked by unkind people.
Our family were recently devastated by a DDoS attack on our toaster.
As your family would be too: we weren’t able to have breakfast. Apparently, the attack was launched through a cereal port.
Sorry not sorry.
The latest of these things that I read about is a camera. A Canon EOS 80D, in fact.
Just like mine.
But fortunately, not actually mine.
Vulnerabilities in the image transfer protocol used in digital cameras enabled a security researcher to infect with ransomware a Canon EOS 80D DSLR over a rogue WiFi connection.
A host of six flaws discovered in the implementation of the Picture Transfer Protocol (PTP) in Canon cameras, some of them offering exploit options for a variety of attacks.
The final stage of an attack would be a complete takeover of the device, allowing hackers to deploy any kind of malware on the camera.
Reading through the article on bleepingcomputer.com, it seems that I am safe from this sort of thing, thanks to my not connecting my equipment to random, free wifi hotspots.
But I will be updating my camera’s firmware to the latest, safer version, as soon as it becomes available in SA.
And that only leaves the viruses in the iron to sort out.
My image of Crosspool is the photo for August on the 2019 Crosspool calendar:
Look at that glorious curve on Ringstead Avenue. Just look at it!