At a time when I’d found myself wallowing in the deepest, darkest depths of writer’s despair, the universe once again delivered.  Unfortunately, my newfound inspiration came with a price tag of a hundred dollars and a few days of lost blog-humping productivity.  One all-too-anxious click of the mouse and I’d contracted a nasty case of cyber-gonorrhea, as well as an attitude toward the stinky prick that was responsible for it all.

It was hard not to feel remorseful about the timing of the matter.  I was just starting to feel centered for once.  The colorful aura that had surrounded my optimistic project faded, forcing me to shelf it for the time being.  Back to the bitch diaries.  I had a more pressing issue at hand.

I spent the next couple of nights by candle light, snapping off tacky one-liners with a quill pen and a head full of trance.  Nothing that I wrote satiated.  I needed more.  I was desperate for reprisal, so I decided to try and track down the bastard.  If I was going to find any closure from the whole ordeal I’d have to do a little police work first.

I figured my best shot at finding the guy would begin with establishing a motive and a detailed profile.  In between slugs of coffee, I paced the room like a nervous cartoon, jotting down notes on a spiral-pad.  I was feeling confident, on to something I thought.  The pencil in my head began to swirl a composite sketch of the perpetrator at large.

The Investigation…

I knew that he didn’t work for a reputable company like Microsoft or Apple, because it would contradict his whole philosophy.  It’s difficult to get hired into a company like either of the two when you’re on a bi-monthly bathing schedule.  I could picture him; isolated in some basement hideout, screaming into a headset while touring the World of Warcraft – the smell of some off brand air freshener fighting off the stale pizza rolls and TV dinner trays piled up on his desk.  In between yelling fits and large blocks of anime porn, there he sits, writing malicious code on a highly sophisticated machine.

Reason led me to believe that he probably didn’t leave the house often, so I’d have to track him down outside of his headquarters.  Where would he go?  What would he look like?  My brain was in desperate need of answers.

He had long hair – an anything-but-trendy ponytail, perhaps.  A person of poor hygiene would mean long hair.  I’m sure a hairdresser wouldn’t leave their scissors near a person smelling like a dirty sponge, yet alone volunteer their services.  Facial hair was also a strong possibility.  He’s clearly a non-conformist, which meant rule out anything fashionable or trendy.  Cheap sunglasses, military boots, an old recycled leather jacket even.

A strong supporter of the Unix operating system.  Everything else was inferior computing, fit only for the common caveman like myself.  Maybe I could track him down online.  Start in the forums and look for the arrogant flake.

All I needed now was a motive.  What would drive a human to bully the civilized world with such malicious intentions?  The answer was obvious.  The poor bastard was probably exiled from the rest of his peers at a crucial time during development.  It caught up with him later on – revisiting, lamenting his awkward high school years.  Now he was evil.  Non-conformists are born that way though, no fault of another.

The Fruitless Pursuit…

There was no use wasting anymore time.  Generally speaking, I had a good idea what I was looking for.  In retrospect, it was a bit optimistic of me.  More importantly, I didn’t know what I was going to do with him when I found him.  What sort of punishment would fit the crime?  More questions.  Then it hit me: motherboarding — a method used for dealing with cyber terrorism, which involved tying the perpetrator to his throne, and beating him senselessly with a stack of motherboards.  Half the problem with the prick is that he’s too smart for his own good, so I may as well bring his IQ down a few clicks.

I knew where I’d find him.  The downtown district is full of non-conformist beatniks – lumbering around in large packs like prairie bison.  What if this was all for nothing?  What if I was pursuing the wrong person?  Maybe he was much more refined — off shore bank accounts, suave dresser, expensive car, Rolex — the whole bit.

The once roaring fire of optimism within me was now turning into a smoldering pile of doubt as I watched the markers tick by.  I could feel my foot easing off the accelerator as my reservations intensified.  I decided to pull off for a bit and make sense of everything.

I ordered a coffee – no cream, no sugar.  It was hard to keep myself from pulling napkins out of the dispenser and shredding them on the table.  The smoke was heavy – a thick blanket of it hanging above the greasy diner tables.  My mind was still in overdrive, but my thoughts were halted by an angry woman that stood up and threatened to off the male sitting in front of her. I could sense the tension mounting in the atmosphere after the blow up.  Maybe it was the caffeine.  Either way I decided to leave a tip and exit before I was the recipient of a misguided projectile.

Going back was intolerable.  I’d been beaten this time, but not destroyed.  What sense would it make to continue this pursuit?  Tracking down one anonymous hacker and removing him would be like containing an influenza epidemic with a single can of Lysol.  Let him have his kicks for now, I thought.  The poor bastard has his coming…

-Happy Blogging Private Eye Bitchers…

Related articles

• Security Brief: Anonymous Operations (news.softpedia.com)
• Hackers Take Over Mexican Government Websites (theepochtimes.com)
• How Anonymous Hacked the Media (thedailybeast.com)
• Following your own path–How to be a socially acceptable non-conformist (onehotmessage.wordpress.com)