Shocking!!!

From 9News.com comes this shocking story. John Ramsey: the first person to ever be taken advantage of in an e-mail scam. Thanks Paula Woodward for cracking this one. Keep us posted, if this kind of thing ever happens again. Mr. Ramsey: I'd give the Boulder Police a call too! I especially like that this story points out no one was ever arrested in his daughter's death which leads me to believe we need to take a strong look at Chinese electronic wholesalers as possible suspects.

John Ramsey victim of malicious new e-mail virus

John Ramsey said all he did was open his e-mail, then delete.

However, the virus attached to that incoming e-mail scanned his e-mail address, got his address book, and sent solicitation e-mails, purportedly from Ramsey, to his entire e-mail address list.

Ramsey is the father of JonBenet Ramsey, who was killed in December of 1996 in Boulder. He has since moved to Michigan. No one was arrested in her death.

"I was expecting something from the airlines and thought this e-mail was it. That's why I opened it," Ramsey told 9Wants to Know.

Just the simple act of opening the e-mail resulted in the theft of his e-mail address, address book and the following message, grammar problems and all, was sent to all of the people on that list.

"Dear friend," the phony e-mail begins. "We are one of the largest Chinese exporters electronic wholesaler, which can support the most effective and high quality products with competitive prices. And we hope we can do business in the long term ship with you. You can inquire your questions to our email."

Ramsey found out he'd been the victim of the virus after friends e-mailed him about it.

Ramsey then notified his address book recipients of what happened.

"I usually don't ever open e-mails when I don't know who they're from," he said.

Members of the 9NEWS Information Technology department said the virus is a more "sophisticated" version of a fairly common virus that usually only steals your e-mail address.

Words are not necessary

I see Paris, I see France

Thanks to a new law signed into effect by the Guv, beginning Aug. 6 homeowners living in covenant controlled communities will able to install energy saving devises such as evaporative coolers, wind-electric generators and clothes lines, as long as those devises meet home owner association aesthetic guidelines.
Good times are ahead, kids.
Because the only thing more aesthetically pleasing than a clothes line is getting to see a whole lot of my underwear flapping in the wind. Woo-hoo!

Fav headline of the day

Bankrupt Frontier cuts planes, capacity
"We regret to inform you that this flight is being discontinued and will not be completing its scheduled trip to Cancun. Flight attendants will be passing out parachutes at the emergency exits. We realize you have your choice of airlines, we're glad you decided to jump out of this one."

Internet case could have lasting impact

Can you murder someone over the Internet?
We might be about to find out.
Last week, federal prosecutors filed charges against a Missouri woman who posed as a teenage boy on the Internet and harassed a 13-year-old girl who eventually committed suicide.
Lori Drew, 49, was charged under the federal Computer Fraud and Abuse Act, normally reserved for hackers who dig up information on protected computers. It is the first time prosecutors will pin the law on someone in regards to a social networking website.
According to prosecutors, Drew allegedly set up a false account on My-Space, called herself Josh Evans, built an Internet relationship with Megan Meier, then turned on her with cruel messages. The last message, in October 2006, allegedly told Megan that “the world would be a better place” without her. The teen later went and hanged herself in her bedroom closet.
The trial is scheduled to begin June 30.
There are a couple reasons to keep an eye on this case.
One is the pure audacity of the woman facing charges. My hope in humanity tells me she simply intended to be cruel and not cause a death. Still, anyone who can call themselves a parent and then purposely try to destroy the fragile self-esteem of an already temperamental adolescent is very sick and deranged. There’s no arguing that the case itself is really despicable.
But if we know anything in our society, it’s that throwing common sense out with the bath water in place of mutual outrage will come back to haunt us.
If prosecutors can successfully peg Drew as violating this law she is charged with breaking, it could open up a veritable Pandora’s Box of culpability for other Internet users. What if you have a penchant for sharing fat jokes on your blog and an overweight person becomes distraught after reading them and commits suicide?
It’s not the same? Why not? No false pretenses? What if you were pretending to be the fat guy from Subway?
What’s going to stop authorities from coming after you?
Who’s to say that’s not what authorities did, when after more than a year and a half of fruitless head scratching, they decided to charge Drew with this law reserved for cyber-dorks?
This is the predicament that is the Internet. Two decades after it was created, we still haven’t figured out how to patrol it or even agreed on whether we should patrol it.
Oh, sure, police are conducting sting operations left and right to catch up with sexual predators. But one can only be heartened by that if they don’t think of how many might be slipping through the cracks, possibly to our vulnerable children.
So, prosecutors finally found a way to make Drew stand accountable.
Or did they?
Some are already banging the drum that justice-hungry prosecutors bent the law to come up with a way for Drew to be brought up on charges. I happen to agree. Tacking some abstract law on Drew and saying,” I think this applies to you too” seems shaky at best. Maybe we can presume this is what happened in the Bible – that Cain killed his Abel and, unfamiliar with the concept of murder, he was charged with “unruly use of a farm implement.”
This case illustrates the need to decide on hard and fast rules on the Internet just as we have in our society or to get out and watch the people run amok.
Operating in this gray area will only cause more problems.
That’s why it’s crucial to watch how this case plays out.
Don ‘t worry about Lori Drew. There’s a fiery place waiting for someone with such blatant disregard for others.
Worry about us if the Internet becomes a “name your own law” game show.

It's National Bike to Work Day. I always look forward to today. Earlier this morning, I packed up my bike, shoved it in my trunk and headed for work. Personally, I still look forward to Take Your Daughter to Work Day but Bike to Work Day has its perks too. While I can't vouch for the fueling savings (it took just as much gas to get here this morning as always) I find my bike to be quiet, respectful of the work I need to do and not apt to running away. It should be a great day.

Viva der Sportbüstenhalter

Let's not make too much out of the Colorado woman who was rescued from a cliff in the German Alps by creatively waving her sports bra from a stick. Smart, yes. The best thing to happen to sports bras since Brandi Chastain? Maybe not. Let us remember, this woman was rescued by a group of lumberjacks. I assume the conversation went something like this.
Jurgen: Schauen Sie auf ihre Busen
Wolter: Es ist ein guter Tag, um ein Holzfäller mein Freund zu sein.
Jurgen: Ja.
I'm glad she is safe. I doubt waving my boxers would attract nearly as much sympathy. It never did when the school bully sent them up the flag pole.

Summer of violence redux

Double blog Monday, kids. If you've watched the Denver news at all, you saw Denver is dealing with a spate of weekend violence including the shooting of an 8-year-old child in a drive-by. You can always make the argument that the media are the best at putting an apple and orange together and colossally over-hyping things. But,to me it seems a perfect storm is brewing reminiscent of the infamous 1993 Summer of Violence in Denver where another innocent youngster, Broderick Bell, was shot in similar fashion. Hope they can get this under control.

Flying the sober skies

Another day, another dummy getting drunk on an airplane and punching a flight attendant. Which makes me wonder why are we still serving liquor on airplanes? Putting inebriated people in that confined of a space just seems like trouble to me. Let's keep it to just the pilots being able to drink. But if there is any logic to taking liquor out of the air, don't count on it now. Not when airlines are charging an extra $10 bucks if you're wearing white shoes.

Our mistake

Sorry, sir, didn't mean to bother you. Next time, we'll just send a burglar!
LAKEVILLE, Minnesota (AP) -- A Lakeville man says he feels violated after two police officers woke him up at 3 a.m. to tell him his door was unlocked.

Their surprise visit was part of a public service campaign to remind residents to secure their homes to prevent thefts. Usually, officers just leave notices on doors.

But they went further in Troy Molde's case on Thursday. Police entered the house where four children under 7 were having a sleepover, and then went upstairs to Molde's bedroom.

The officers told Molde his garage door was open, the TV was on, the keys to his truck were left in the ignition and the door to his house was ajar.

A police spokesman says the intrusion was justified because the officers' initial door knocks went unanswered, and they wanted to make sure nothing was wrong.

He says the kids inside -- Molde's two sons and two nephews -- were afraid to wake their dad, so the officers went upstairs.

Unreal

This story from Boston is so, so troubling. You can read more about it at time.com

As summer vacation begins, 17 girls at Gloucester High School are expecting babies—more than four times the number of pregnancies the 1,200-student school had last year. Some adults dismissed the statistic as a blip. Others blamed hit movies like Juno and Knocked Up for glamorizing young unwed mothers. But principal Joseph Sullivan knows at least part of the reason there's been such a spike in teen pregnancies in this Massachusetts fishing town. School officials started looking into the matter as early as October after an unusual number of girls began filing into the school clinic to find out if they were pregnant. By May, several students had returned multiple times to get pregnancy tests, and on hearing the results, "some girls seemed more upset when they weren't pregnant than when they were," Sullivan says. All it took was a few simple questions before nearly half the expecting students, none older than 16, confessed to making a pact to get pregnant and raise their babies together. Then the story got worse. "We found out one of the fathers is a 24-year-old homeless guy," the principal says, shaking his head.

You asked for it

Note to Denver: You wanted to be a big city, you wanted to be in the spotlight. So suck it up and stop whining about counter-terrorism maneuvers taking place in advance of the DNC. This is life in a big city, poised to host a major political event in a post-9/11 world.

Lace em' up, Eldrick

A couple weeks ago while the Stanley Cup finals were happening, a reporter asked Tiger Woods if he thought the Red Wings or Penguins would win that night's game. Tiger responded, "I don't really care. I don't think anybody really watches hockey anymore."
Cheers to Tiger for taking a stand. African-American athletes have roundly been criticized for being apolitical since Michael Jordan's famous "Republicans buy Nikes too" comment. Granted this isn't really a political issue but it's better than diverting the media horde by saying, "Hey, look it's my hot wife."
But boo to Eldrick for taking on the wrong sport for so many different reasons. Golfers have just about as much right as professional rock, paper, scissor players to rip on other sports, let alone a time-honored sport such as hockey. And let's be real, unless you are sports editor Steve Smith, you aren't devoting a Sunday afternoon to watch televised golf and then tracking the playoff match on Monday. Sorry, Steve, there's a 12-step program for this kind of thing. Oooh, sudden death. The only way that would really live up to its name is if the golfers had to drive from a tree while being chased by a Bubonic squirrel. I get sleepy when I drive by golf courses, I'd fall off the couch watching it at home.
Any sport where you're swinging a ball with a big metal stick and nobody's wearing a cup is not worthy of being watched on television.
And I don't really care how good Tiger is at golf. He's a young man playing an old man's game. It'd be like me going back to first grade and declaring myself the Undisputed Champion of Kickball or mocking kids at Chuck E. Cheese for sucking at Wack-a-Mole.
Ironically, it is the very sport Tiger criticizes that could actually inject some life into the placid game of golf. How awesome would it be to see (low voice please) Tiger's 20-foot birdie try to win the Master's (hockey broadcaster scream please) blocked by Patrick Roy – Oh my goodness, how did he stop that one. Not to mention how nice it would be to see a Padraig knocked down by an Ovechkin.
Lace em' up, Tiger, you wouldn't stand a chance in hockey!

Smells like a loser

Good news everyone. The Colorado Lottery is bring back its scented scratch off tickets. For $3, the sting of losing can be accompanied by the smell of coffee, chocolate or bouquet. Let me be the first to say that losing money has never smelled so good.

The best of No Means Know

Hope you've enjoyed this touching look back at what makes this blog what it is. And, if you haven't, we'll never know. That's why I turned off the comments. See you back Monday for more hilarity.

Because life is too short too die – May 29, 2007

Hey, everybody, have you ever gotten the chance to be lured into one of these prescription drug commercials on TV. I wandered upon a two-minute medicinal tantrum this morning for such a drug. Because of ethical standards, I won't name the drug, we'll use a made-up Larovacacheex. What is it supposed to help? Honestly, I couldn't tell ya. I'm still wrapped up in the possible side effects. Yes, taking Larovacacheex could help you with the painful inflammation and swelling of osteoarthritis (thanks, Google) but be prepared for (in no particular order) collapsing of the lungs, profuse vomiting, profuse bleeding, profuse profuseness, diarhea, explosive diarhea, spontaneous liver explosion, hair loss, weight gain, weight loss, tooth decay, homicidal tendencies, decreased sexual appetitite, sauerkraut cravings, inflammagationousesnesses (you don't wanna know), yodeling, arm amputation, melting of the pupils, brain contusions, dizziness, increased love of "Sound of Music" (Steve, are you on this?), hangnails, heart palpitations, decapitations, propensity for licking the feet of others, anal desegregation, ear lobe deformities and, last but not least, a bad case of the giggles.
Wow, that bum knee is feeling better all ready. Then, they have the nerve to tell, you
"if you think Larovacacheex could be right for you, check with your physician today." If my doctor thinks this wonder drug is right for me, then I'm getting a new doctor.
Then, as if that isn't bad enough, they throw on some supposed uplifting slogan at the end like: Larovacacheex: because it's time to get off the crapper or Larovacacheex: because who needs use of their right leg anyway.
I'm going to have to be in pretty bad shape before I turn myself over to one of these drugs!

The best of No Means Know

Loyal blog readers (all two of you) – June 7, 2007

I looked down today and saw I had surpassed 1,200 hits on my blog visit counter. This is a milestone. Let me just give you some quick math to help you understand what it means. It means: that subtract about 600 hits for me checking to see how many hits I have and to check if I've gotten Camden Farmer's attention yet, 300 hits from wife checking to make sure I'm not putting some erroneous information about her up there, 100 hits from my Mom who is probably grossed out by the barf photo and wondering how two normal people could raise somebody so warped (Hi, Mom), 50 hits from Smith who just can't wait to see what I say next or maybe he can. And 50 hits from my two respective bosses – reaffirming that maybe this blog thing wasn't such a good idea.
Those are the obligatories.
That leaves about 100 people who have ventured to my blog out of the goodness of their heart. They include one so-called MilkyMommi who I made laugh about the dangers of prescription medication commercials – I'm glad, a certain fire chief who tried to recruit me to Fort Lupton and at least one person, yesterday, who believes I'm a conspiracy theorist because I believe all the details about Union Pacific aren't out there. Wait, till I blog about the phony moon landing.
And to the rest of you, stick around, it's only going to get better. I mean, it has to ... right?

The best of No Means Know

Hanging with the kids at the 7-11 – April 16, 2008

If you drive by the Brighton 7-11 around the noon hour on any given weekday, you'll see a long line of high-school age kids waiting to get in. I wasn't sure what this was all about, in fact I stood there in line quite a while before the cashier said I could come in. Don't feel bad, it like waiting in line for tickets to IronMetal DeathJam Megastravanganza 6. Like I'm not already so going! Actually these kids are local high schoolers, cast-offs after Taco Bell decided it didn't want the front entrance of its restaurant looking like a giant game of Red Rover. The kids must wait outside of 7-11 for the chance to enter (two at a time). I can only presume this is so employees can monitor what is being stolen (two at a time). OK, kids, don't egg my house and call me names, why else would they do it? And I don't want parents mad at me either, this is just a simple observation. I will say the kids seem pleasant enough for wasting their lunch break in a line to buy crap they don't need (7-11, you can shut up too because I'm a proud customer). I did have the odd sensation of being a strike breaker when I walked over the seeming picket line to enter the store but there turned out to be no heckling or chants of "You'll never get a stale crueler in this town again." I will offer one piece of advice to the young boy licking the slurpee dispenser to sample the different flavors. I appreciate you yielding to a 28-year-old needing a Slurpee fix while you agonized over your decision but, eww, that's gross.

The best of No Means Know

Let thine donate thy stuff and forsake what thou stuff is – March 20, 2007

Okay, IRS, you've really done it now. Thanks to new restrictions, I can no longer just give stuff away to Goodwill or ARC or RUFF (Really Ugly Furniture Foundation), I must now document it in detail lest I face an audit. Gone are the days when a blank receipt from MOOMPS (Monkeys Outraged over Misdemeanor Prison Sentences) would suffice. Why can't we just leave well enough alone? Can't you just trust that I'm giving a honest donation to WIFFO (Women Interested In Finding Football Odors). You know whose going to really suffer? The non-profits who collect this stuff. I heard a news report last night recommending you photograph the items you are donating. Are you kidding? Now I'm really going to think twice before I donate my crusty old pairs of boxer shorts to PEEPOU (Puppies Encouraging Enthusiastic Parting Of Underwear) because that's just not something that should be digitally preserved. Once again, the small people will be hurt. I dread having to say no when SCROG (Scooters Courting Really Old Grandmas) calls and asks if I have items to leave on my front porch). Call your Congressman, call your uncle, we must do something. I can't stand to see great organizations like SSIDR (Sisters Stuck in Dressing Rooms) fall by the wayside.

The best of No Means Know

It's still cold out there – January 10, 2008

I know I probably speak sacrilege but I'm not a big fan of Bob Marley songs. Death be to me, if his kids, Ziggy, Dweezil, Moonfrye and Frodo come with flaming torches. Moreso, I'm not thrilled with the compunction of local radio stations which will not be named (97.3 KBCO - World Class Rock) to play his tunes on particularly cold days. You Marley fans may call it a testament to how his music continues to resound, to me it is some psychological mind trick to make me think it isn't cold out. "Here, we'll transport you to some Caribbean island with bongo drums, marijuana and Cheetos." I'm not fooled, I still need a coat outside. And, at this rate, they might as well play some Hawaiian luau songs or, gulp, Don Ho.

The best of No Means Know

Dora sans Diego – May 24, 2007

As the father of a 17-month old girl, I'm becoming more and more familiar with the daily children's TV fare – JoJo's Circus, the Wiggles, Judge Judy, The View. The following is a critical review of one such popular show – Dora the Explorer.
How many times can one person's heart break? I found myself wondering that the other day as, once again, I found myself tuning into the gut-wrenching, emotional roller coaster that is Dora and Diego. Allegedly cousins, according to my wife, these two young lovers have seen their share of hard times including their recent breakup and Diego getting his own show where you can find him sauntering through the jungle with some leggy, brunette home wrecker. I assume it's the same woman that kept Dora alone so many nights with no one to keep her company except her friend, Boots and a singing backpack. But occasionally, like last week, Diego pops back into the newly self-dependent Dora's life (usually swinging on a vine like above) and exposes all of her frailties. He reminds her that she can't live without him, that she can't build any serious relationships since their split and then, under a guise of friendship, he goads her into dangerous and often unnecessary tasks like trying to save baby jaguars from the clutches of the man. And Dora, again stripped of her womanality, is eager to oblige. Luckily, they do a song and dance and end the day's show before we have to see Dora forced into the role of a Martha-Stewartish domestic goddess where she cooks Diego a big meal and he eventually passes out on the couch with a beer watching "I Love Lucy" reruns. I hope each day for Dora to get the nerve to throw Diego and all of his belongings to the curb including that fancy fly-fishing vest he wears. And I'll keep watching until she gets the courage to become her own person. And I'll keep wondering, is my daughter getting the same thing from this show?

The best of No Means Know

It's vacation time but I couldn't leave you high and dry. We've picked out the best of No Means Know to keep you entertained.

Give me thine sample old lady – published April 9, 2007

I've had it, fed up, enough already. I've had an ongoing beef (or lack of beef) with the old hags that divy out the samples at our local wholesale retail stores. This weekend, at a store I will not name but ends with AM'S, I was especially troubled. My wife, I and the girl were closing in on some crackers smeared with Brie when Grandma Goodwrench actually pulled the crackers back from her sample table as if she saw us coming. Ridiculous! C'mon, beside a 900-ton bottle of detergent and a 10-pound plastic container of cheese balls, why do we go to these places? This isn't my first problem. A few weeks ago, I snagged a sample off one of those little metal tables (on loan from the county coroner's office) and had the audacity not to say thank you. As I walked away. I received a sardonic "thank you" from the woman. I wanted to smack her over the head with a box of 600 muffins. Pardon me, aren't we supposed to take the samples or did I just accidentally stumble into your kitchen. This is all complicated by my experience a couple years ago when my Dad and I actually watched a sampler pack up her Peanut Nut Roll in a plastic container ( there was still plenty) and head for the door. Leave the sample on the table lady, we'll take over from here. I don't know where they get these women from – I presume they truck them over from the nursing home. I don't mean to demean old people, I love old people and, someday, hope to be one. But these women are mean, they're grumpy and, unfortunately, they've got the goods.

Devil gets due with Faustian-Rockies

All through the Colorado Rockies miraculous playoff run last fall, I tried to level my expectations.
I was ready to brace myself for that eventual fall when the national sports cynics said the law of averages would catch up with the Rockies. And even though they were quickly dispatched in the World Series, it didn’t matter. They had come so far. The positives far outweighed the negatives.
Even in February as I dropped down more than $100 for a set of seats to two games of Opening Weekend, I tried to be realistic. There was simply no way the Rockies could repeat the sheer glory of clinching their first pennant on my birthday.
Is it actually possible the Rockies miserable start to the season has defied my lack of expectations? How can someone who expected so little be so utterly disappointed?
This season has been like a bad musical. First, the pit orchestra doesn’t show up and then the lead actress breaks her leg when she falls through the stage apron.
The first is inexcusable. The second is just mere bad luck.
Prepare the barrage of rotten tomatoes.
So, it is with the Rockies who got off to a horrible start and now have been decimated by a spate of untimely injuries. I thought I saw the mascot hobbling around on crutches the other night.
Still, I try to wrap my head around what went wrong with the Rockies. Round up the usual suspects, shoddy pitching, lack of clutch hitting and expensive hot dogs (sorry, a personal gripe there).
But this is essentially the same team from a year ago. It is the same team that captivated so much of this state.
And yet it is not. If it hadn’t been for last year’s glimpse of what the baseball season could be, it would simply be another bummer season that we have all came to expect.
In my deliberation, it came to me.
This is also the same team that was once mockingly referred to as “God’s Team,” in a Time magazine article that spotlighted their Christian-like clubhouse atmosphere.
Of course, God, in his gracious mercy, had granted the Rockies only one playoff berth and scant winning seasons.
So, sometime around the middle of September as we all began to turn our attention to the Broncos, the Colorado Rockies, in Faust-like fashion, made a deal with the Devil.
In that story, a downtrodden Faust makes a deal that he will serve the Devil in exchange for experiencing the zenith of human happiness. At that point, the Devil may take his soul.
Retelling that story almost makes me wonder if the gig was up when they made us suffer through that horrible online ticket fiasco.
There is only one hope in the tale of Faust as this inexorable season grinds along.
God intervened at the last moment and the Devil didn’t get Faust’s soul.
Lord help us, or it’s going to be a long, long summer.

Moment of thought

Do me a favor. When you get home tonight, hug your kids and spend an extra five minutes with them. Then read the story about Sidney Weber in tomorrow's Brighton Blade.

Shapely buildings

In my neighborhood, we are soon going to be bookmarked by two different fitness centers. Obviously, it could be seen as a desperate plea for me to get in shape. It makes me curious though that in these busy times we still can find the time to visit these fitness centers to "get in shape." It's curious because we can't, Americans are getting fatter and until we change our way of life, these facilities are just a waste of precious space. I'll start taking them seriously when we start building them on top of McDonald's.