🚀 go-pugleaf

80.20.61.83:7476 open socks4 proxy was used on 20 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 16:15 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.

--
met. It was in
the  Park, on a vile, biting day in March, when the earth was like iron and
all  the  grass seemed dead and  there was not  a bud anywhere except a few
crocuses  which had  pushed themselves up to be dismembered by the wind. He
was  hurrying along with frozen hands and watering eyes when he saw her not
ten  metres  away from him. It  struck him at  once that she had changed in
some  ill-defined way.  They almost passed one another without a sign, then
he  turned  and followed her,  not very eagerly. He  knew that there was no
danger,  nobody would  take any  interest in  him. She  did not  speak. She
walked  obliquely away across the grass as though trying to get rid of him,
then  seemed  to resign herself  to having him  at her side. Presently they
were  in among  a  clump  of ragged  leafless  shrubs,  useless either  for
concealment  or  as protection  from the  wind. They  halted. It was vilely
cold.  The wind  whistled through  the  twigs and  fretted the  occasional,
dirty-looking crocuses. He put his arm round her waist.
     There  was  no  telescreen,  but there  must  be  hidden  microphones:
besides,  they  could be  seen. It  did not  matter, nothing mattered. They
could have lain down on the ground and done that if they had wanted to. His
flesh froze with horror at the thought of it. She made no response whatever
to the clasp of his arm; she did not even try to disengage herself. He knew
now  what had  changed in her. Her  face was sallower, and there was a long
scar,  partly hidden  by the hair, across her forehead and temple; but that
was  not  the change. It  was that  her waist had  grown thicker, and, in a
surprising  way, had stiffened. He remembered how once, after the explosion
of a rocket bomb, he had helped to drag a corpse out of some ruin