🚀 go-pugleaf

209.203.71.170:6816 open socks4 proxy was used on 23 November for a
Hipcrime attack on nanae. And I got the port number by Googling so it
must have been open and was probably abused before that date.

It was used late North American Monday for a Hipcrime attack on
24hoursupport.helpdesk and the same open proxy was still there Tuesday
at 17:12 GMT.

At one time, RCN (formerly Erols) had the famous Afterburner on its
abuse desk. Now, it seems to have Dave Null.

Remember - go to RCN for your net-abuse needs. You put up a phishing
page? It will still be up on Valentine Day. You can get Giganews with
only IP authentication through RCN.

--
It depicted simply an enormous face, more than a metre wide: the face
of  a  man of about  forty-five, with a  heavy black moustache and ruggedly
handsome  features.  Winston made for the  stairs. It was no use trying the
lift.  Even at the  best of times it was seldom working, and at present the
electric  current  was cut  off during  daylight hours. It  was part of the
economy  drive in preparation for Hate Week. The flat was seven flights up,
and  Winston, who  was thirty-nine and had a varicose ulcer above his right
ankle,  went  slowly, resting  several times  on the  way. On each landing,
opposite  the lift-shaft,  the poster with the enormous face gazed from the
wall.  It  was one of  those pictures which are  so contrived that the eyes
follow  you  about when you move.  BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOU, the caption
beneath it ran.
     Inside the flat a fruity voice was reading out a list of figures which
had something to do with the production of pig-iron. The voice came from an
oblong  metal plaque  like a dulled mirror which formed part of the surface
of  the  right-hand wall.  Winston  turned  a  switch  and the  voice  sank
somewhat,  though the words were still distinguishable. The instrument (the
telescreen,  it was  called)  could be  dimmed,  but there  was  no way  of
shutting  it off completely. He moved over to the window: a smallish, frail
figure,  the meagreness  of his body merely emphasized by the blue overalls
which  were  the uniform  of the  party. His  hair was  very fair, his face
naturally  sanguine, his  skin roughened  by  coarse soap  and blunt  razor
blades and the cold of the winter that had just ended.
     Outside,  even  through the  shut window-pane,  the world looked cold.
Down  in the street little eddies of wind were whirling dust and torn paper
into  spirals,  and though  the sun was  shining and the  sky a harsh blue,
there  seemed  to be  no colour  in anything, excep