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Unfiled May 1, 2002
 
Hacker Hounding!
By eXile Staff Browse author
 
 

Every first of the month, each staff member here at the eXile gets fresh hours of generously bartered internet access time. It might not seem like much, but a responsible user who rations his time well only suffers for a couple of days at the end of the 30-day period unable to surf for free bestiality porn sites.

So when The Sex Machine's dial-up account suddenly stopped working on April 11th, he initially figured it was just some glitch in the server keeping him from getting his daily dose of "Farm Girl Takes Horse MPEG". But the hours stretched into days, and the server kept rejecting his password. Finally, in a fit of desperation, Jake called our webmaster and discovered his monthly allowance was up -- some thief had hacked into his computer, stolen his password and spent 100 hours of time on line in just 264 hours, wanking off on Rudnitsky's bartered coin. This aggression could not stand.

Rudnitsky went through all the pyschological stages of a person freshly violated: denial, anger, resignation, and acceptance. But even acceptance didn't stop the eXile from seeking vengeance- -- our wily webmaster was able to pinpoint the telephone number (326-74-97) that the parasite used to dial up on the Sex Machine's internet account. We ran this number through our special SORM kit (thanks to our pals in the FSB!), and soon discovered the bandit's address (Berulevskaya ulitsa 30, apartment 52). Now that it's public information, we encourage all our readers to regularly call and/or stalk, with violent and malicious intent, the offending party. Email your efforts to us, and the five most creative/intrusive/illegal entries will be entered to win a free eXile box cutter! The following calls signal the launch of our campaign to make the Internet User and his family rue the day he ever crossed the eXile:

6:32 PM

  • 326-74-97 (middle-aged woman's voice): Hello.
  • eXile (lame imitation of a flathead thug): Hello. Could you tell me who is the Internet User at your place?
  • 326-74-97: Ah... why? What do you want?
  • eXile: I need to talk with him.
  • 326-74-97: He's not in.
  • eXile: Is it your son? Husband?
  • 326-74-97: He'll be getting in later.
  • eXile: When?
  • 326-74-97: Later.
  • eXile: When?
  • 326-74-97: Around ten.
  • eXile: Around ten? Good, I'll call back.

8:14 PM

  • eXile (same flathead imitation) I'm calling you about the Internet User. Has he arrived?
  • 326-74-97 (same middle-aged woman): No he's not back yet.
  • eXile: Well, here's the situation. I don't know if I'll be able call back, but I want you to know that he stole our internet password and we don't like that. You see, we know your telephone number. We know where you live: Berulevskaya ulitsa 30, apartment 52. We're planning to take action. We're dangerous people to cross.
  • 326-74-97: Why don't you give me your number and he'll call you back?
  • eXile: Call us back? One moment. (unintelligible voices in the background) Hello? We're not going to give you our number. Someone will call back later for the Internet User, but it won't be me.
  • 326-74-97: Maybe tomorrow would be easier?
  • eXile: Tomorrow isn't easier. The man whose password was stolen will call back. He's very upset, and he does unpredictable things when he's upset. Tell the Internet User that, would you?
  • 326-74-97: Uh-huh.
  • eXile: Good.

10:41 PM

  • eXile (American accent): Is the Internet User in?
  • 326-74-97 (same middle-aged woman): No, maybe you should call back tomorrow.
  • eXile: I don't need to call back later, I know where you live. Berulevskaya ulitsa 30, apartment 52. The Internet User is in trouble. He stole my property. I'm going to cut off his Johnson.
  • 326-74-97 (confused): What?
  • eXile: Cut off his Johnson.
  • 326-74-97 (not understanding): Johnson?
  • eXile: Yes his Johnson. Ask him what it means. And tell him I'm going to cut it off. He'll understand.
  • 326-74-97: His Johnson?
  • eXile: Yes, I'm going to cut off his Johnson. This is not a laughing matter. That's all. (hangs up)
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