Surviving The Internet Outage

 The following takes on something that happened in Canada a few days back. Namely one of the major internet providers, Rogers, have their entire network go down, and millions of Canadians at a loss about what to do, seeking coffee shops with alternate internet providers. I wasn't one of those millions... because my home internet has a different provider. 

Rogers Continues To Deal With Fallout Of Outage, Millions Of Canadians Mildly Outraged

Toronto (CP) It was a Friday not soon to be forgotten in the Great White North. On the 8th of July, Rogers saw its entire internet network go down. Coast to coast, millions of Canadians whose internet service was Rogers based couldn't get online. If their phones were linked to Rogers, they couldn't call anyone. Interac services went down. Ticket agencies were unable to issue tickets to events. City services were affected. Rogers, a company that has turned bad customer service into a hallowed company tradition, found themselves under attack from multiple parties.

It went down before most people started their day. Rogers customers found their computers, tablets, phones, and other connected technology failing to connect. And in a day without landlines, they couldn't just call in and ask what was going on. Executives at the company quickly realized they had a public relations nightmare in the making as the morning began to unfold and the scope of the outage became clear. Meanwhile people with other service providers started their day none the wiser to anything being wrong.

Sooner or later word started getting around. Some of it came through those television networks not dependant on Rogers to broadcast. Canadians, ever a resourceful lot, sought out coffee shops with different providers, found out their workplaces were or were not affected, and otherwise found a wifi hotspot where they could catch up. There was much fretting, debate, and demands for answers as the day went along. Rogers and their pack of marketing chimps made empty promises and platitudes, while the executive board considered the worst case scenario of fleeing the country if their networks didn't come up fast.

Finally, after many hours, service began to return. Canadians on Rogers service began to catch up with their email, watch their programs, and make calls. Statements from the company blamed it on "maintenance." As is often the case with such events, memes were created to ridicule the whole matter. Politicians from various levels of government demanded answers and mused about public inquiries. Rogers swore that they'd do better in the future. Few believed them.

Other providers took advantage, suggesting that customers think of switching over to a better company. All while hoping the next inadvertent outage wasn't on their system. Psychologists commented on the effect of a daylong deprival of internet services on a large swath of a country. Canadians, their nerves calmed down with a nice cup of maple syrup and bacon, began moving on with their lives, content in the knowledge that next time it would happen to someone else.

But the question remains: what really happened? Blaming it on maintenance is one thing- given the shoddy work record of the Rogers maintenance division, which after all gives the customer service side of things a run for its money. Some on the internet were blaming other things, including conspiracy theorists. "It's like that movie, man, Independence Day!" professional recluse Neil Dunhow told this reporter on the day in question, calling from a landline. "The aliens are out there and they're using our satellites against us to get into position! We're all doomed!"

When asked yesterday to clarify his comment, Dunhow said, "no comment."

Inevitably, however, the real reason for the outage was exposed. It was something that simply couldn't be hidden, because it also registered on the Richter scale. On the 8th of July, early in the morning, something rose up out of the Pacific Ocean, a force of titanic size and malevolent purpose. Because it knocked out Rogers service on the coast, no footage of it was obtained at the time, but it made its way inland on a quest of domination and conquest.

It is a creature seen before, one of the Great Old Ones. A cosmic entity reported by H.P. Lovecraft, who tried to pass it off as fiction, it has slumbered off and on deep in the ocean. Its name is Cthulhu, a gigantic vaguely humanoid monster with elements of a dragon, octopus, and other beasts in the whole making. To gaze on it too long is to become mad. Or something like that. The beast rampaged inland after knocking out internet service, crossing the Rocky Mountains. Until it was stopped.

In the foothills of the Rockies west of Calgary, it met its match in the form of an immovable object. A force of nature in the form of a man. The grumpiest but greatest lawman on the planet. The legendary Mountie, Inspector Lars Ulrich. 

They had battled before. It had not gone well for the Great Old One. For the briefest of moments, the two stared each other down. And then the battle began.

Within ten seconds, Cthulhu was down on the ground for the first time, struck by a left hook punch that sent the creature reeling. After that, Ulrich really went to work on him. 

Cthulhu fled, battered and bloody, humiliated by the defeat, last seen retreating into the Pacific. Three days ago, reporters caught up to the Inspector at his detachment to seek out his comment. Once assured that all reporters present knew he was not that Lars Ulrich, the Inspector appeared to be less cranky. Ulrich confirmed that he had history with the monster, dismissing him as a 'crybaby'.

At this point, someone else rushed up. A vacant eyed nitwit who had entertainment journalist written all over him. "Lars! Lars! Matt Stone, Entertainment Tonight! What everyone wants to know is, what does Metallica think about Armie Hammer working as a timeshare salesman?"

The real reporters backed up to give Ulrich room. Ulrich glared at Stone, speaking in a low voice. "I am not that Lars Ulrich."

Stone looked confused. "Of course you are."

At this point Ulrich picked up a stanchion and threw it at Stone, who started running. It ended with a chase into Dead Man's Canyon and an extended stay for Stone in a local trauma centre, stuck in a body cast for the next six months.

Booting Out The Occupiers

Life goes on. Three weeks of occupation and siege by a pack of misinformed nutbars and alt-right white nationalists in trucks and pick up trucks, harassment of residents, desecration of monuments, shut down of a city core and many of its businesses, persistent tension, demands that were at time sounding like sedition, and the glaring noise of truck horns (especially that insufferable asshole (or assholes) whose truck horn sounds like a train whistle) have come to an end in Ottawa. 

I posted about it earlier in the month when I was at a really bad point.

The "freedom convoy" as they called themselves, a hostile pack of fools in trucks and pick ups came into Ottawa at the end of January and took possession of the city core. They were organized by white supremacists and western separatists like Tamara Lich and Pat King- vile, despicable, repugnant excuses for human beings- and they had the gall to call themselves patriots and heroes and to say they were fighting for the country. They were angry about mandates in the fight about Covid- the vast majority of which are provincial in nature, and which are gradually coming to an end anyway. They were angry about the prime minister- which is a generational thing, since their daddies hated his daddy back in the day. They were just plain angry. And dumb. Really, really dumb.

That first weekend, Confederate flags and the swastika were seen. Trumpist slogans, adapted or otherwise (including the "Let's Go Brandon" nonsense and "Make Canada Proud Again"), were seen throughout the occupation. As a resident of the downtown, it infuriated me. Days on end without decent sleep because of goddamned idiots honking their horns at any and all hours. Yes, we were under siege by a hostile force, occupying our city and painting themselves as being in the right, all while being led around like the puppets they are by fucking scum like King and Lich- not to mention those who were funding the whole enterprise.

They called themselves peaceful protesters. Peaceful protests aren't like this. Peaceful protesters come, say their piece, and go. They don't hold a city hostage. Nor do their members tote symbols of hate or display signs calling for the deaths of a prime minister or others. Nor do they call for a government to be overthrown, a party abolished from existence, or democracy to be subverted. Those were all things coming our way from the "freedom convoy."

Freedom. A word they defiled, because their concept of freedom is and always was freedom from responsibility. Something I said in my previous post and stand by. They desecrate the country by claiming to be fighting for freedom. You want to look at those who fought for freedom and their country and the betterment of the world? 

Heroes and patriots don't go hand in hand with white nationalists and those who want to separate from the country. No, these people are not heroes, patriots, or freedom fighters. They're gullible rubes, misguided idiots, and yes... some of them are hate mongering bigots who wholeheartedly agree with the white nationalists who strung them along. 

They occupied our city. Residents reported frequent harassment and bad behaviour. Nerves were frayed. The cops seemed to stand by and effectively do nothing. The mayor fretted and did nothing. The police chief (former) seemed to think they'd just go away on their own accord. 

But no, they didn't. Because they had their mission: end the mandates, to hell with science, doctors, facts, reason, logic. In short: stupid.

They screamed bloody murder about their demands to meet with the prime minister. Why should he have? A protest that's illegal in the first place, demanding irrational things like the resignation of the PM or the overthrow of the government in general? 

These are not the sort of people any political leader should meet with.

In the last days of the occupation, I took some shots downtown. I tried to make a point to not engage any of these people after the early days of the occupation. Throughout the occupation I'd come to hate them. To the point where homicide felt justifiable. If I was having such dark thoughts, it would not surprise me if others felt the same way. 

The city resisted in its own way. People started photographing trucks and posting them online, including at a site called Convoy Traitors. Negative reviews were left at company websites. Insurance companies were informed that truckers were engaged in this nonsense. Senior citizens trapped at home were assisted by neighbours in getting groceries. A class action lawsuit was started by residents of the downtown core against the organizers and the movement as a whole. An injunction was made banning the trucks from honking their horns for a few days- and subsequently ignored. GoFundMe froze the efforts to fund the occupation- rightly understanding that this had turned into criminal actions. Posters and stickers went up on street poles expressing a common opinion.

The chief of police resigned deep into the occupation. He was probably an effective administrator, but out of his depth on this. He no doubt honestly thought that they'd just go away on their own, and had no real plan in place for the alternative. This needed someone in charge with a street cop mentality and an ability to plan a proper response. It also required coordination with the multitude of police agencies who had come in to reinforce the Ottawa Police. An interim chief of police was designated for the job.

The prime minister invoked the rarely used Emergencies Act. Occupiers were warned for several days in advance to depart. Some of them had their kids with them. Not the best of scenarios if you had to employ tear gas. Effectively speaking, these kids were human shields- and will grow up to be as ignorant as their parents, unfortunately. The occupiers had every opportunity to depart on their own. Scum like Pat King told them in person and in his online, fact-deprived addresses, to 'hold the line'. Among his other remarks were threats to the prime minister and other officials.

Late last week you could feel the police presence building in the city. Masses of police on foot in the downtown core. Lots of police cars from multiple jurisdictions making their way around. Word started getting around that the downtown core was ideally to be avoided on the weekend as things were going to start getting underway. Finally the police were doing their jobs. Pat King announced that he was going out to the east coast- a bloody lie, since what he was actually doing was running like the gutless coward he is. The city waited.

And then after days of warning to get out, the police started tightening the perimeter in the core and initiating their operation against the occupiers.

After three weeks.

Multiple arrests and fines. The police moving in strength, yes- but not deadly force. There was a report of an altercation with a police horse and the use of non-lethal weapons- but those were the exception. The local detention centre would no doubt have seen a lot of intake last weekend, and after that point, with the occupiers cleared out, the clean up of the core began with the removal of any remaining trucks that had been idle for weeks.

At some point over the weekend I saw a vile, tear filled video clip put out by Tamara Lich- before she and one of the other organizers got arrested and charged. She dialed back on the threats to the PM. And she had the gall to quote the words of Jesus Christ- effectively trying to elevate herself to that level- in what she was saying. I was beyond disgusted- and bear in mind that I'm not religious. My reaction to it is summed up in a meme I made below: God really needed to send down some lightning her way.

She got arrested. So did Pat King. As of this writing they're both still in custody. Other participants have been released on bail and told not to come back to the city. The truckers involved are facing heavy fines, and no doubt a lot of hard questions from their insurers and the banks who they make payments to for their trucks. In a few months, they'll be on the dole, out of work... and they'll have no one to blame for this stupidity but themselves. And the dirtbag white nationalists who sent them here.

They, and their supporters, have talked about freedom and are using the terms tyranny, dictatorship, fascist, and communist to refer to the government and the PM in general, both during and after the occupation.

Which is dismaying, because as always, those who use those terms online have no real idea what they mean.

If this were tyranny, a show of police strength would have involved lethal force. Police would have put bullets into heads. Children would have been caught in the crossfire. Hundreds of people would be dead. 

No, this was democracy responding to an unlawful protest. One that had held a city hostage for weeks on end. This was democracy responding to a movement that wanted to overturn democracy. 

Freedom involves responsibility. And when you do something incredibly foolish like this, there are consequences.

The words of a former Liberal leader and present representative of the country to the UN speak volumes.

As of this writing the Emergencies Act has been set aside. There are some truckers still in outlying areas- truck stops and farms outside of the city areas. Are they dumb enough to try coming back in? Police still maintain control of the area around Parliament Hill, and their presence in the city is still felt. But last weekend as events unfolded and it became clear that the occupation was being brought to an end, a lot of the tensions lifted.

The wounds remain. A lot of people in the downtown core in particular are going to remember all of this for a long time to come. For me, personally, I will never forget it. Nor will I forgive. Citizens of my own country betrayed that country by occupying my hometown and harassing the residents of that city. One of their goals was the overthrowing of the government. I am disgusted by their behaviour. And I will have no empathy at all over the coming weeks and months as they find themselves back at home, facing bankruptcy because of the catastrophic stupidity of their own actions.

To hell with them.

Putting Up With Bloody Idiots

So how's the last few days been for you?

Mine have been thoroughly unpleasant.

Just a word: lots of coarse language ahead, but it's entirely justified.

On the last Friday of January, a horde of truckers, pick up trucks, and misguided souls started pouring into Ottawa with a truck load of grievances, misinformation, and alt-right foaming rage. They came, started occupying the streets, honking their horns, driving aimlessly all over the city, making a nuisance of themselves. National monuments and statues were disrespected. Some of them are demanding the death of the prime minister. Others are demanding the abolition of the Liberal party. Because abolishing those parties you disagree with... that's democratic. At least in their minds.

In short, the residents of this city were under siege for days on end. By fuckwits proclaiming themselves to be heroes, freedom fighters, and patriots.

I wrote the following on Facebook a week ago, on Monday morning after two nights of little sleep:

To the "freedom convoy": you're not patriots. You're not freedom fighters. You're not heroes. You're angry, misguided narrow minded fucking morons. Your convoy is being supported by a western separatist party. How is going hand in hand with separatists patriotic? So no. You're not patriots.

You came to this city, honking your horns at all hours, driving all over this city. You keep its citizens awake and on edge. You will never convince me that you're anything but angry alt right conspiracy theory anti vax, anti science, anti fact motherfuckers.

I have seen with my own eyes the Confederate flag carried in my city by you. I have heard the fucking goddamned Trumpist slogans from you with my own ears. White supremacists at their worst. In my city.

And you show disrespect to the statue of Terry Fox, and make light of it. You climb all over the War Memorial, and dance on top of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. And you want to paint yourselves as freedom loving patriots?

Freedom also means responsibility.

Do you fucking get that?

Get out of my city. Take your blaring horns and leave.

While you still can.

I've had maybe two hours sleep the last two nights total. Because assholes in pick up trucks are driving through neighbourhoods honking horns at any and all hours.

This city is being held hostage. By motherfuckers who are wearing on our last nerve. How long before we, the citizens of this city, have had our fill of it?

In short, freedom convoy: commit suicide.

And fuck you.

I took three shots of these assholes a short distance from each other. And personally told a couple of them to get out of the city in a thoroughly unpleasant way. I even left an unpleasant review at the place of business for the asshole in the third photo. That particular business is getting a lot of unpleasant Google reviews right about now. Which they deserve. Along with all of the other asshole owner-operators who thought this was a bright idea.

I photographed this sign, posted on a hydro pole; the remark comes from a place of basic sense.

So, what do we have? 

We've got a protest who, when you do a little digging, was actually started by western separatists, white supremacists, and the like. They're the ones pulling the strings behind all of this. We've got a protest that isn't a protest. Because when you occupy streets, harass the citizens of that city, drive all over it honking your horns at any hour of the night, you're not demonstrating. You're occupying. You're terrorizing. 

We've got protesters carrying around Confederate flags- and even a swastika or two. These are facts. I've seen the Confederate flags with my own eyes, and the swastika was spotted on television- defacing a Canadian flag- while an idiot member of parliament from the Conservative party was being interviewed out in the streets. It was also seen in full as one of the flags in Major's Hill Park, a short distance away from Parliament Hill.

Of course the supporters and apologists will never see that. They'll trot out the usual 'liberal Marxist operatives' line. Instead of accepting the reality that white supremacists are among these protesters.

When you're carrying around symbols of hatred- and that's what the Nazi swastika and the Confederate flags are- you're on the wrong side of history. And if you're one of the other protesters and you're not doing something about it, you're on the wrong side of history. And if you're a supporter at home making excuses and trying to explain it all away- you're on the wrong side of history.

What else do we take away from this? A multitude of downtown shops closing up instead of having to deal with the harassment and tension of the current situation. Protesters urinating and defecating on people's properties. Continuous harassment of the public with horns being honked, keeping us awake at nights. Citizens being yelled at by these assholes. Oh, yes. And hassling staff and clients at a homeless shelter, demanding food be given to them instead. 

Yes, read that last part again.

I'd say they should be ashamed of themselves, but clearly that's beyond them.

I mentioned in my Facebook post about screaming at a couple of these guys on that Monday morning. I told them to get out of my city, in extremely unpleasant terms. And I had to walk away. Why?

Because I wanted so much, in that moment, to hurt them. To bash their faces into the side of their trucks. And I can't say I would have been able to stop bashing their faces in.

That's how far this has gone.

I felt homicidal. 

I wanted to kill these two fuckers. I wanted them dead.

But I walked away. At home I felt awful that I could have had that impulse, but there it was. 

I now feel plunged into a deep depression. It's going to take time to work my way out of this one.

The important part is that I didn't follow through on that impulse. Part of that is I refuse to turn any of these fucking scum into martyrs for their goddamned cause. Part of it is that they're not worth it. They're not worth the jail time.

But when the residents of a city are effectively being held hostage by a hostile force who have no regard for anything but their own goddamned misguided world view, tempers are going to get frayed. People will snap. Someone will decide to take the law into their own hands and do what the police won't.

And the frustrating part of this has been that the cops seem to refuse to do anything about it. Yes, I'm sure they're quietly trying to negotiate with these verminous excuses for human beings to convince them to leave. They don't want to escalate the situation. But when you're not protecting the citizens you're sworn to protect, and just asking us to 'be patient' and 'avoid the downtown core' while these assholes continue to not behave peacefully and harass us... all while you do things like pose for selfies with these same assholes....

Well, you've violated the trust of the citizenry.

We won't forget that.

Living in society carries with it certain responsibilities as a citizen. These protesters scream about freedom, but as I've noted, it's freedom from responsibility. That's all they want. It's all about them, and to hell with anyone else. And they don't seem to care that their strings are being pulled by white nationalists who are largely keeping to the shadows, but who are the ones who set this in motion.

If you don't want to be a responsible citizen, fine. Go live on an island. With no infrastructure, power, or source of employment. See how long you last.

I'm tired of Covid. I want this to end. But by doing so in a responsible manner.

By listening to doctors. And science. And fact. And reason. 

All of which the alt-right anti-vaxxer movement seem to hold as obscenities. While they hold tight to their sources of information: angry talk radio hosts, a guy they know on Facebook, and the latest bit of nonsense from the dark web.

I've had as much as I can take of all of it. These people are wretched, awful excuses for human beings. When they're gone, the residents of this city are not going to forgive, or forget. The wounds caused by this run too deep.

We'll remember the police standing by and doing nothing. We'll remember our lame duck mayor fretting and doing nothing. 

But we'll really remember people calling themselves Canadians.... behaving in the most disgusting, repugnant manner, occupying our streets, harassing us, keeping us on edge, and de-legitimizing real protests.

To every last idiot member of the truck convoy protesters, and to their supporters and apologists, I have only three more things to say to you.

Fuck you.

Burn in hell.

God damn you for what you've done.

Behold, The Walking Wounded

You think you had a lousy weekend?

Sit down, sport.

So I was out on Friday night with friends, walking along. What I didn't see, and what I should have seen, was what turned out to be a tripping hazard.

Face, meet pavement. 

I broke my nose, and did some damage to my right knee. 

No, I was not drinking.

I went down, my face met the pavement, and I started bleeding. And cursing. A lot of language, that, well, the Sisters Of Little Or No Mercy would not approve of.

 My friends, one of whom doesn't do well with blood, took care of me. I did have the presence of mind to realize I was in shock, hence all the shivering and trembling, and I did curse a lot more when I saw a photograph, taken at my request, of myself with blood running all down my face. No, that photograph is not included in this post and never will be. 

And so I was off to the hospital, courtesy of said friends, having had left behind pavement that looked, well, like a crime scene.

What can I say? I'm a bleeder. I'm still wondering precisely how much I lost. Suffice it to say it'll be awhile before I'm giving blood again.

A hospital emergency ward is no place to come into at any hour of the day, and it's been years since I've been in one. Last year I had a bit of an injury courtesy of a left turning driver oblivious to the rules of the road and the fact that pedestrians have right of way. His driver's mirror gave my arm a glancing hit as he passed right in front of me. I was pissed at him, as you can imagine. But this being the height of Covid, a hospital was not the sort of place I wanted to be in. And that turned out to be nothing more than a bruise, but this was the sort of thing that I couldn't just tough out.

So I ended up in emergency.

The nose was bleeding, both knees felt uncomfortable, with the right flaring up, and I had a low grade headache. The sort of thing you'd expect. Now anyone who's been in an emergency ward knows you're triaged according to your condition. If you're having a heart attack, they're seeing you right now. If you're the idiot who stumbles over and breaks his nose, it's going to be awhile. I was in for the night. For the record, the staff were great. They're already in a stressful job, and the last year and a half have made it all the more stressful. 

The doctor had lots of questions, checked off areas of concern that he had. No, there was nothing wrong with my neck. He had me go through x-rays for the knee, and a CT scan for my head. The X-ray tech was a pro about it, and I had just the one moment where a leg adjustment really hurt. As for the CT scan? The tech was also a pro about it. I can see how that machine can be a problem for someone with claustrophobia, but this was my first experience with it. I found it quite relaxing, actually.

Diagnosis: possible mild concussion, with a list of things to look out for and things to do. None of which have yet shown themselves. Hairline fracture in the nose, which has been numb ever since, and a strained leg, which explains why it feels more painful.

The doctor gave his recommendations upon releasing me, and I asked about the chances of arthritis in that knee. I've already got it in the other one, thanks to an accident a few years back.  

Saturday I got home, slept a lot, ate very little, and generally felt awful. Sunday involved sleeping off and on most of the day, keeping my leg elevated, and making a whole lot of use of a cold compress acquired from the hospital on both my leg and my face. Incidentally it's a weird feeling to have that cold against your nose and eyes and just lie there. But the sleeping has helped. The headache faded away after Saturday, and none of the signs typical of concussions have shown themselves. As of yet. And as weak as a kitten as I felt on Saturday, that's improved as well. My appetite is slowly returning too.

I was lucky. A slightly different fall would have broken my neck and my last word in this life would have been fuck. 

I've got time off from work to rest and recover; colleagues are handling what I would be doing. Benefits of doing the same when they're sick or have personal days. Also benefits of being able to bank your sick days. 

Generally speaking I'm taking it very easy, sleeping a whole lot, and spending way too much time staring at my ceilings, which are uniformly blank.

Two days make a difference: this was me on Saturday late in the afternoon, looking dazed. Blood was still caking parts of my facial hair.

I took this on Monday afternoon after shaving most of it off. The scar at the top of my nose would be where I broke it. Most of the tip of my nose is scar tissue, as it wouldn't wash off like the rest of the caked blood. I look like I got punched by Rocky Balboa. 

I'm mending.

And I'm absolutely sure my friends will never let me hear the end of this one.