Sympathy for the Devil, among others

So there's this place. By definition, everyone who ends up there has history that they don't talk about. Most of them are very lonely. There isn't much to do in this place, but, by definition, they can never leave. Usually, people just hang out by the railroad tracks, or set up a burn barrel at the edge of town and watch the shadows play over the woods, listening to the bears or whatever it is lives out there--they've never actually seen them, but they assume they're bears. Or they drink, but that can bring them too close to talking about history, so they need to take breaks from that every once in a while. Sometimes they sit by the hole in the ground in the west side of town, and watch the auroras through it.

The point being, sometimes it gets to be too much. When it does, they listen to Devotchka, and it makes everything better for a while.

And that is my concert review. If they come to your town, go see them, I am not even joking. It was a very good show.

We hear from the targets of wrath

Incidentally, the companies whose penny-stocks are being pumped (and subsequently dumped) by that plague of spam I've been fascinated by lately? They seem clueless.

Sorry if I've been talking too much about this lately. I'm just fascinated by the fact that a small cadre of Russian hackers have been able to do so much damage. We're living in a subplot from a Charlie Stross novel, or something; I can't help but keep one eye on it.