One of the greatest (currently) unaddressed issues in WordPress is that there's no way to moderate user registrations. There are only two settings: anyone can register themselves (the administrator will be notified) and only the administrator creates registrations. There's no in between and no hooks for changing this with a plugin. I leave registrations open so new readers can create an account whenever they want. The problem is that spam bots will also generate registrations. I get three or four spam bots trying to register each week.
If the user name or e-mail isn't obviously spammy, I'll send an e-mail asking for confirmation. If I don't get that confirmation (and I rarely do), then I know it's spam. Here are the e-mails from the latest instance.
The automatic notification:
New user registration on your blog A Feast of Crumbs:
Username: John Doe
E-mail: nondescriptmail@majorisp.com
My challenge:
Hi!
Are you a spam bot?
I get a lot of bogus registrations. If you do not respond to this message, I will assume yours is one of them and will delete your account.
The registrant's response to my challenge:
No I'm not a spam bot. Don't even know what that is. I just got this card from Philip Morris to sign for savings and coupouns for my smokes. I went to the web site it said to and this is where I ended up. So if I'm on the wrong site pllease let me know so I can get to where I need to be. I smoke Marlboros and have for 30 plus years. I just would like to get some coupons mailed to me.
Thanx John
Next from me:
Oh! Somehow you ended way offtrack, friend. You registered on my blog at feastofcrumbs.com. I think what you're looking for is http://www.smokersignup.com/ That's where you sign up for coupons for Philip Morris products.
Next from him:
Hey, Thanx alot friend. I appreciate the info.
Wow. Dude was really lost. I should have asked for his credit card number to confirm his age.
posted at 06/06/2007 07:10 am : Permalink
Categorized Geekery : Tagged coupon, lost, Marlboro, Philip Morris, smoking, spam, WordPress
I smoke
a bat hunts
The City sleeps
posted at 05/14/2007 01:30 am : Permalink
Categorized Haiku and poetry : Tagged bat, smoking
9. I smoke, right? My preferred cigarette is Marlboro Menthol 72s. These cigarettes are available in two varieties: green stripe and blue stripe. I smoke both, because I can't tell them apart.
I know they're supposed to be different, and I'm sure they actually are, but I have no idea in what way. When they were new to the market each pack came with a mini-pamphlet filled with lovely buzzwords that sounded very appealing but were utterly meaningless. Both varieties were described with words like "smooth," "bold," "flavorful" and "rich," all of which are terms that can also be used to describe a good BBQ sauce. I tried smearing one of the cigarettes on a bacon cheeseburger and found the experience entirely unsatisfying.
In my quest to determine how the green and blue stripe varieties might differ, preferably in terms that actually apply to the inhalation of smoke from a burning concoction of dried plant matter and industrial chemicals, I have had no luck. Marlboro.com redirects to a site where I can sign up for coupons. The Philip Morris website contains a mix of stop smoking links and the standard corporate claptrap — but absolutely no product promotion. I can read about how my chosen cigarette contains a smattering of licorice extract, but I cannot read about why I might want to choose the blue flavor over the green. Even my beloved Wikipedia lacks the information I sought.
I say "sought" because I am no longer seeking. I don't care how they might be different. If I can't tell them apart, what does it really matter anyway? But this does leave me with a minor conundrum. What should I say when I say "Marb Menthol 72s, please" and the clerk asks "blue or green?"
In the past I've answered that I don't care, I can't tell the difference. This is not as easy as you might think. I've received everything from blank stares to outright refusals to make this choice for me. Fortunately I am a creature of habit and the lovely women who usually attends me at the gas station after work on Friday has learned my pattern and cheerily offers, "Some of each, hon?"
posted at 03/06/2007 08:12 am : Permalink
Categorized 100 things : Tagged Marlboro, Philip Morris, smoking
I welcome the new day with one last cigarette on the back deck before bed. The cold stillness is disturbed by the sound of something like a large jet in the distance. I can't see it, but a sudden gust of wind makes me think I can feel it pass. I listen to the throaty rumble as it passes me by, moving on into the darkness.
I smoke in silent contemplation until a passing car breaks my perfect reverie with its imperfect engine.
Good morning. It's time to dream.
posted at 02/19/2007 12:18 am : Permalink
Categorized General : Tagged smoking
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If ever you're looking to sell or give away a Pomeranian puppy, you may want to consider not magic markering your tiny little sign:
Puppy
Pom
because passing motorists such as myself may misread that as:
Puppy
Porn
Said motorist may then briefly consider calling you out of morbid curiosity. Said motorist would be disgusted, yet completely entranced. This is assuming said motorist did not read again, realize his mistake and chuckle while mentally calling himself a retard.
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The psycho burnt lung lady? Yeah, she's far more weird than she originally seemed.
Apparently her lungs are so sensitive that she was unable to use her shiny new laptop for a considerable amount of time. She says the new plastic was giving off an odor that kept her from breathing. So she left the laptop at a friend's house to air out for the better part of a year.
Whether there's any truth to that or not, she now has a laptop. Last Thursday she brought it by to discuss a problem. She made an appointment to return yesterday for service. Friday she stopped by to see if I could work on it early. I could not, so she stopped in yesterday for her scheduled appointment.
She was wearing the same clothes on those three consecutive business days.
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Stopping by my house in the middle of the day because it's raining and The Bunny may need our only umbrella (conveniently located in the trunk of our car) may occasionally cause Bunny's head to explode.
Ok, it's probably not me bringing the umbrella that caused her head to explode, but goddamn did she have an impressive headache. I think I could actually see her skull pulsing.
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On returning to my office, I got a good eyefull of the crazy burnt lung woman's car. I'm pretty sure she's living in it. Her blue Delta 88 was stuffed with a fantastic amount of objects. Piles of clothes, old newspapers, food and a lot of things that looked like plain old trash were crammed into every nook of the passenger compartment. There were even stacks of junk on the dashboard.
If she's living in her car, how important or relevant can her internet access really be? Wouldn't most people sell that laptop to scrape up some rent money? And wouldn't living in a rolling refrigerator box cause problems with dust, mold and a variety of other lung busters? When she talks about those lung problems, I think she's full of shit.
Oh, and lest I forget, I'm pretty sure she's crazy. I mean really crazy. Unbalanced. Unstable. Disturbed. Fucking nuts. When she finally stormed out of my office, angry that I was unable to produce a lunar eclipse on demand, I was thrilled by the thought that she's probably too unsatisfied to ever return.
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A snippet:
The Chicken: Dad?
Me: Yeah?
Chicken: Did you ever shoot with that bow and arrow in the garage?
Me: Yeah, buddy, I used to shoot that bow all the time.
Chicken: Did you ever… target it at… shooting stuff?
Me: Yes, I've gone target shooting with that bow.
Chicken: Did you used to shoot targets a lot?
Me: Um… yeah, a fair amount.
Chicken: Was that your hobby?
Me: Yeah, I suppose it was a hobby.
(pause)
Me: What would you say is my hobby now, Chicken?
Chicken: Um… smoking?
posted at 09/12/2006 12:04 am : Permalink
Categorized At work, Huh?, Snippets : Tagged Bunny, Chicken, computer repair, smoking
Smoking on the deck:
gunfire
or backfire?
posted at 08/24/2006 12:35 am : Permalink
Categorized Haiku and poetry : Tagged gunfire, smoking
(There are sirens in the neighborhood, several of them pass my office.)
Goat: Lotta sirens today.
Me: Yeah, seems like more than usual.
Goat: Maybe somebody knocked over a light pole nearby.
(The phone rings.)
Goat: Fish, it's your seester.
Me: (On phone) Yo.
Sister: How you doin'?
Me: Yo.
Sister: So do you have a good view of the fire there?
Me: What?
Sister: Turn around and look out your window.
Me: Holy shit! That red house is on fire!
Sister: Dumbass.
Me: Ok, I'm going to go. You're way more boring that this action.
Sister: Ok!
So, yeah. Big ass fire in the red house across the street. No one was injured (not even the family dog), but the house is a total loss. The flames were ten feet higher than the roof by the time the fire department started throwing water at it.
At its simplest, this is not especially exciting. There was a fire. The fire department put it out. Woo hoo. But, oh, the spectacle!
All the streets around my office were closed for almost five hours, which made for a pretty light day. And everyone in the neighborhood stopped to gawk for a while, so the people watching was excellent. Sighted were Unfriendly Black Hottie from the chiropractor's down the street, The Captain (a late middle age guy who always dresses like Gilligan's gay uncle - complete with a Skipper-style hat), Naked Guy (who, weather permitting, wears only cheap flip-flops and raggedy short-short cut off jeans), and the String Bean Mechanic (who looks like a complete dirt bag, but is always so friendly). There were plenty of other gawkers, maybe as many as 300 different people over the course of the day, but none of them are interesting enough to merit a clever nickname.
I happened to be listening to some music on my PDA when all of this was happening. Evil, insensitive bastard that I am, I tried to choose music appropriate to the situation. What kind of music is goes with a neighbor's house fire? I didn't have anything like Bloodhound Gang's "The Roof Is On Fire" or Johnny Cash's "Ring of Fire." The best I could do is Guns 'N Roses. "Welcome to the Jungle" kind of works. At least it's a lot more fitting than the new Dixie Chicks CD.
My favorite part of the whole experience is that this has been an entire day where not one person has stared at me when I've stood outside smoking. And all my temporary invisibility required was for one family to lose everything.
posted at 06/01/2006 05:46 pm : Permalink
Categorized At work, Music, movies, books, TV, Snippets : Tagged fire, Goat, Guns N' Roses, Sister, smoking
So I smoke, right? I can't smoke in my office (and I'm not sure I'd want to anyway), so when I'm at work I smoke outside. I stand outside the front door for five minutes or so several times a day to feed my habit.
And every time I do, people stare at me as they drive by. At least ten people rubberneck to get a better look while they pass.
What the hell? Haven't these people ever seen a man without pants smoking a cigarette?
posted at 04/20/2006 01:12 pm : Permalink
Categorized At work : Tagged smoking
…I stood outside my office with a cigarette.
A man with close-cropped hair, a blue shirt and a natty red tie stepped out of the restaurant next door. He barked into his cellphone something like, "I told you as clearly as I possibly can! I laid it all out for you!"
He was then silent while he listened. Impatient for his turn to talk again, he pushed around a few stray pieces of rock salt with the toe of his black loafer. When he spoke again he was nearly yelling. "Don't you threaten me! Don't you dare threaten me!"
He listened again for a moment and then snapped his phone closed and returned to the restaurant.
I really want to write a short story around this. Does anyone have a suggestion for genre? Silly or serious? Comedy or crime?
posted at 03/20/2006 01:19 pm : Permalink
Categorized At work, Huh? : Tagged smoking
Shopping trip-
a cigarette at Old Navy
in the mountain's shadow
posted at 03/12/2006 11:28 am : Permalink
Categorized Haiku and poetry : Tagged mountain, shopping, smoking