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More on Last Year's Cisco Source Code Theft
grazzy writes "The New York Times has a story about last year's theft of Cisco source code:
The incident seemed alarming enough: a breach of a Cisco Systems network in which an intruder seized programming instructions for many of the computers that control the flow of the Internet. "
More on Last Years Cisco Source Code Thef
Oh well! Should have used the preview button!!
Ahh yes... karma at work you stinky taco!
Get paid to code OSS
Maybe they don't read Slashdot after they've published
I suspect that they don't read half of the headlines or summaries before they choose to publish them either.
Who Is Pamela Jones?
By Maureen O'Gara
Friday May 6, 2005 - A few weeks ago I went looking for the elusive harridan who supposedly writes the Groklaw blog about the SCO v IBM suit.
The now-famous opinion-shaping open source leader Pamela Jones, aka PJ, doesn't give conventional face-to-face interviews. Never has, near as anyone knows. All communication is virtual. Only one person in the world has ever claimed to have met her - in the pressroom at LinuxWorld in Boston complete with a Pamela Jones badge - and described her as a fortyish reddish-blonde who giggled a lot.
Oh yeah? Wonder what cold crème she uses.
Pamela Jones is a 61-year-old Jehovah's Witness who lives in a shabby genteel garden apartment in desperate need of an interior decorator on a heavily trafficked commercial road at 304 North Central Avenue in Hartsdale, New York. Hartsdale is in Westchester and Westchester is IBM territory.
See, even though Groklaw treats cell phones like they were Kleenex and changes its unpublished numbers regularly, one number it left with a journalist led to this flat and - wouldn't you know it but - some calls from there had been placed to the courts in Utah and to the Canopy Group so obviously this just isn't any Pamela Jones.
Pamela has lived in apartment 1A for 10 years at least, according to the super, who says he's watched people move in, have children, and the children marry and move away.
Now, this isn't your usual anonymous New York apartment. It's practically a self-contained village where the super goes for the old ladies' groceries when there's snow on the ground and people know each other's business.
But the super didn't know much about Pamela except that she had a computer, worked at home (maybe sometimes) for a lawyer, was "paranoid" - his word - and "sensitive to smells."
He remembered how he was cleaning paintbrushes one day and she came running down the stairs screaming "Fire."
She was also missing and had been for weeks.
Nobody there knew where she was.
She had up and disappeared one day, and the super was worried about her. He said her son had dropped by and he didn't know where she was, and that some strange man that "nobody knew," as the super described him, had tried to get into her apartment while she was gone - the Medeco lock she had had installed on her door - something nobody else in the complex seemed to feel a need for - was more expensive than the door. But, as it happened, the super said, she had just sent in her rent in an envelope postmarked Connecticut.
Like an episode out of "Where in the World is Carmen San Diego," the trail led to 10 Bittersweet Trail in Norwalk, Connecticut, 24 miles away. Sure enough, parked in the driveway was Pamela's car, just as the super had described it, a dark gray '90s Japanese number with a bunch of Jehovah Witness pamphlets tossed on the backseat.
The woman at the house, Barbara Sharnik, told a disjointed story. She didn't know Pamela, Pamela hated her, Pamela wasn't there, Pamela left her car there because it got bumped, Pamela left her car there because she left town, and so on.
Afterwards Barbara called the cops, and then the cops called the number we left with her and the cops said that she was Pamela's mother and that Pamela was on the run and had shacked up with her mother because she had gotten "threatening mail" weeks before and that she had just gotten spooked again because "people were getting hurt around [my] stories" and had lighted out for Canada.
Odd, the subject of my stories - or any stories - never came up during our brief interview. I was just looking for Pamela.
That left Pamela's son, Nicolas Richards, who, as it happens, had been in the software business in Manhattan until - why, my goodness - things seem to have come a cropper right around the time Groklaw came into existence.
Nick and his ma were apparently involved together in Medabiliti Inc, an ISV, because one Pamela Jones with a Westche
I've been watching you Mr. Anonymous Coward, and I just can't figure you out. Why are you having a conversation with yourself. You just replied to your own post, then replied to the reply. In the spirit of Moe Jaffe and Dwight Latham, you're your own grandparent. Why?
warning: This post is likely to contain gobs of dripping sarcasm. Consume at your own risk.
Damn dude.. get out more.. seriously, I hate to be an asshole, and wren, if you are reading this, well, dismiss me as an asshole.. but she is NOT hot by any definition of *hot*.
lim wren{hot} --> 0
take a look... http://www.ugcs.caltech.edu/~wren/
Pron... fap fap fap.. review submission - quick edit.. browse for pron. fap fap fap..
I'm in deep trouble now aren't I?? oh well..
The problem is choice..
It looks to me less that she is flaunting a powerbook, than hiding a body she is not comfortable with. I would do the same thing--you know, try to suck in my belly, cover the mustard stain on my shirt, etc.-- if I were being photographed.
More music, fewer hits
Well, for one thing, they are probably working at their paying jobs. Quit bitching about volunteer work, asshat.
Well, *you* volunteered that obnoxious comment. It's the low quality I care about, not the dedication of the work. If volunteer work doesn't cut it, the profitable business using it needs to pay for quality.
--
make install -not war
Slashdot doesn't owe you anything. If you don't like it, either a) go away, and/or b) start your own online community, which would undoubtedly be perfect. Perhaps if you delivered your suggestions in a less offensive tone, they may be considered. But no one likes a freeloading asshat complaining about a free service. Do it yourself or have a nice cup of shut the fuck up.
They use Windows. (C'mon, where do you think all the Windows trolls here come from and why are all Windows trolls modded up?)
And haven't figured out how to use the spellchecker since it's on a menu, not an icon (on the desktop.)
Richard Steven Hack - This sig is TOO GODDAMN SHORT TO DO ANYTHING USEFUL WITH! MORONS!
And on what basis do I owe you, Anonymous asshole Coward, anything? Like listening to your inane advice? "It's free, it's OK if it has problems - don't complain." Get someone else do spank you for a while - I'm done wasting my time.
--
make install -not war
You can't defeat my logic, so you resort to "spank speak"? Some Doc Ruby you are, mommas boy :)
Now get to work on my nuts...