There's This Guy

Okay, so there's this guy. Boos from audience. A random crowd member screams, "Give us some real news!" Oh, shut up, George. Anyways, the guy. Yeah. Oh, all right, I'll tell you about him, if you insist.

One time he asked, "Why are we the same person with different genders? And operating systems?" It stuck with me (obviously). Absolutely cracks me up. Because we really are eerily similar. I don't really know if they're deep similarities or superficial ones; I can never tell the difference (you know me, I can hack the shit out of your computer and dress to kill, but I can't- yet- understand the human mind). But we are similar on certain levels.

He gets my sense of humor. I don't have to explain the joke or defend myself after saying something snarky. Wanna know why? He's the same way. When I say something without thinking, he doesn't make me feel like I really should've thought that one all the way through, darling. No, he just lols or luls or whatever it is he's doing that day. And I appreciate that.

He makes me feel just right, intellectually speaking. I don't feel like a genius talking to him, but I don't feel like a moron, either. That's very important to me- I don't want to feel like an idiot when I'm talking to someone, but I don't want to have to explain every other word or thought process. And with him, it's neither of those. It's like for one of the first times ever- and I don't mean to sound like a bitch here or to be snippy towards anyone else- I'm talking to someone I think I can relate to. He's about my age and on a similar intellectual level, from what I can tell. That hasn't ever really happened before. It's quite fun.

He has plans for when the zombies come. Really? That's just fucking awesome. There is nothing as absolutely hawt as someone who could survive the motherfucking zombie apocalypse. 'Nuff said on that.

He doesn't seem to mind when I swear. At least, I don't think he does. Unless him telling me that his parents snoop on his computer so to keep it clean was a lie and he just doesn't like it when I swear. Hmm. Now I'm paranoid. (I watched the Matrix for the first time tonight- can you tell?)

He seems to genuinely want to talk to me. And that, my friend, is probably the most important thing of all. 'Cause I want to talk to him, too.

Hacker

Another one got caught today, it's all over the papers. "Teenager
Arrested in Computer Crime Scandal", "Hacker Arrested After Bank
Tampering"...Damn kids. They're all alike. But did you, in your
three-piece psychology and 1950's technobrain, ever take a look
behind the eyes of a Hacker? Did you ever wonder what made him tick,
what forces shaped him, what may have molded him?

I am a Hacker, enter my world... Mine is a world that begins with
School... I'm smarter than most of the other kids, this crap they
teach us bores me... Damn underachiever. They're all alike. I'm in
Junior High or High School. I've listened to Teachers explain for
the fifteenth time how to reduce a fraction. I understand it. "No
Ms. Smith, I didn't show my work, I did it in my head..." Damn kid,
probably copied it. They're all alike.

I made a discovery today. I found a computer. Wait a second, this is
cool. It does what I want it to. If it makes a mistake, it's because
I screwed up. Not because it doesn't like me...Or feels threatened
by me... Or thinks I'm a smart ass... Or doesn't like teaching and
shouldn't be here...

Damn kid. All he does is play games. They're all alike. And then it
happened... A door opened to a world... rushing through the phone
line like heroin through an addicts veins, an electronic pulse is
sent out, a refuge from the day-to-day incompetencies is sought... a
board is found. "This is it, this is where I belong..." I know
everyone here, even if I've never met them, never talked to them,
may never hear from them again... I know you all.

Damn kid, tying up the phone line again. They're all alike... You
bet your ass we're all alike...

We've been spoon-fed baby food at School when we hungered for
steak... the bits of meat that you did let slip through were
pre-chewed and tasteless. We've been dominated by sadists, or
ignored by the apathetic. The few that had something to teach found
us willing pupils, but those few are like drops of water in the
desert.

This is our world now, the world of the electron and the switch, the
beauty of the baud. We make use of a service already existing
without paying for what could be dirt-cheap if it wasn't run by
profiteering gluttons, and you call us Criminals. We seek after
knowledge, and you call us Criminals.

We exist without skin colour, without nationality, without religious
bias... and you call us Criminals. You build atomic bombs, you wage
wars, you murder, cheat and lie to us, and try and make us believe
it's for our own good, yet we're the Criminals.

Yes I am a Criminal, my crime is that of curiosity. My crime is that
of judging people by what they say and think, not what they look
like. My crime is that of outsmarting you, something that you will
never forgive me for.

I am a Hacker, this is my Manifesto. You may stop the individual,
but you can't stop us all. After all, we're all alike.

The Mentor

That was shamelessly taken from one of the realistic missions at HackThisSite.org, my new favorite playground.