“18.104.22.168 – Fraud Score: 100%”
“IP address 22.214.171.124 is a very high fraud risk. This IP address is owned by Markus Koch who are themselves a high risk ISP. Scamalytics see medium levels of traffic from this IP address across our global network, almost all of which is fraudulent. We apply a risk score of 100/100 to 126.96.36.199, meaning that of the web traffic where we have visibility, 100% is suspected to be fraudulent. If you see web traffic from this IP address there is potentially a very high risk that it is criminals engaged in fraudulent activity. Other types of traffic may pose a different risk or no risk. 188.8.131.52 is operating a TOR exit node, which is likely to be proxying traffic from another geographical location. The geographical location of 184.108.40.206 is in the Netherlands, however the geographical location of the user could be anywhere in the world.”
Unlike the 100% crowd above, some TOR networks with such IPs are of little risk, maybe 1%, maybe 33%, maybe 50%, maybe 85% of activity being criminally fraudulent. The above crowd is 100%. Wow.
I assume that these guys have total control of my blog, though they may only be using my site to host conversations in the background, having fun. It could just be some nefarious people already known to me doing a bit of gaslighting. Whatever. I’ve already see the Son of the Living God on the Cross. I’ve already looked Satan in the face in my short life. Nothing can gaslight me. I’ve been far beyond the idiocy of the best of gaslighters to witness extreme lack of wisdom. Now, I haven’t looked, but I don’t think anyone has messed with any content of this blog as of this writing. Well, there was a dialogue box that popped up on my desktop asking me to enter my Windows Password, which is the Password for the entire physical computer. Hmmm…. No. Just because. Too impolite, lacking in courtesy.
Of the dozens of TOR networks hacking away, one in particular is the expert at hacking raw formatted hard drives and flash drives to recover previous content. Interesting, you know, all those great pictures of Flowers for the Immaculate Conception! Of course, they could just ask me, instead of playing the role of breathless fools.
I already have enough of those in my life who are using a loved one as a proxy to harass, knowing that their mafia-esque extortion to “go along with the plan”, as they’ve said, rife with offers of bribes as well, might just work in that such a family member is otherwise helpless against their machinations. They might go so far in these next days to have that elderly and helpless loved thrown on to the street in the middle of nowhere in the middle of what is already winter where this person is. The cruelty is extreme. If these hackers are working for this cruel people, they might want to repent and do something better with their lives.
Hackers are of course, on the take, either themselves, or they sell the information they acquire. They could use their talents for good by presenting themselves, say, to the NSA. Why not? And don’t give me this:
Good ol’ Will.
I have a project for the hackers. Sorry, I can’t pay you. But maybe you can redeem yourselves by bringing something to the FBI for me. Don’t send me anything. NO! And I suggest you only do this by first announcing yourselves to the FBI, working with them.
Here’s the deal: When I was a kid, born in 1960, and before, during, after I was a student at North Junior High School in Saint Cloud, Minnesota, USA, so, say, late 1960s into the mid-1970s, all the swimming classes were done with forced nudity with movie cameras everywhere around the pool, up in the bleachers, in the shower room, in the locker room. I’m guessing this is one of the largest troves of kiddy-porn ever made in modern history. I’m guessing millions of stills, millions of film-shorts are still circulating on whatever it is that is called the dark-web. While images were acquired decades ago, any archiving, any distribution by anyone anywhere is a felony. I’d like all these animals to go to prison. Can you do that? Thanks in advance.
Me as a kid: