A bunch of mad scientists in Vegas Baby! have figured out how to cook all of us from the inside out...welcome to Thursday!

​Happy Thursday everybody! We’re off, we’re running…who cares? You’ve made it this far, just Friday in the way before the weekend! Ah, the weekend when you can drink yourself stupid, stay up all night watching John Wayne movies, and then sometime Sunday evening realize that tomorrow it all starts again!

Life sucks sometimes, does it not?

But, hey that’s just me. I’ve been trying to get more info out of Cousin Fred about his design for Friend Lamont’s RV when we hit the Black Rock desert in Nevada to make our arrival at Burning Man. Cousin Fred isn’t talking which is unusual for him. There are three basic forms of communication in the world: telephone, telegraph, and tell-a-fred. So, that tells me that he hasn’t a clue.

Somewhere there’s a Millennial asking someone to explain a telegraph.

Plus, I’ve not seen the hairdressing hydrologist Gigi anywhere for days. When I ask Cousin Fred about it, he ducks his head and mutters something unintelligible which while that is pretty much usual for him, I’ll bet he has her stuffed beneath a couch in Das Boot. The fiend!

But, I’ve bigger worries on my hands. The Wife is making noise about running off to Tahiti on her next fabulous vacation while the rest of us are at Burning Man. Who will watch The Compound mutts, I ask? She’s just jealous because she saw my “Burner” costume. I’m copying Cheech Marin’s get up as Alice Bowie in the “Up in Smoke” movie…pink leotard, white lace-up boots, pink tutu, Mickey Mouse ears, and a big mask (so none of the relatives know it’s me).

It’s sure to be a big hit at Burning Man or get me hit or sued. Either way, it’s gonna be great…you’ll see!

Friends, do you think we all have enough crap to worry about without mad scientists doing crazy satellite stuff to us? Of course you do!

I mean, seriously, the stuff I’m dealing with on a daily basis around The Compound…I don’t have time for craze scientist nonsense!

But, a bunch of brainiacs recently met in Vegas Baby! to discuss the vulnerability of satellites to be hacked and turned subsequently (or maybe consequently) turned into weapons.

Yeah, no sh*t. The idea being that the satellites could be used to turn the huge antennas and arrays that receive their data into microwaves and cook all of us from the inside out!

I know, WTF, right? I can’t possibly make this stuff up!

So, what started out as a Black Hat conference of people talking about ways to secure electronic voting devices turned into a “what if you did this to that and created a weapons system that cook chickens in the supermarket”…or words to that effect.

Ruben Santamarta, of the security firm IOActive, was quoted as saying, “The consequences of these vulnerabilities are shocking!”

No sh*t Captain Obvious, shocking indeed.

He went on to say, “Essentially, the theoretical cases I developed four years ago are no longer theoretical. We're basically turning Satcom [Brainiac for satellite communications] devices into radio frequency weapons. It's pretty much the same principle behind the microwave oven.”

Judas priest. So much for what happens in Vegas Baby! stays in Vegas…baby.

Okay, everyone repeat after me: “We’re all going to die!” Rinse, repeat.

Maybe that’s why The Trump…oh, sorry, forgot…we started calling him Fearless Leader last week…maybe that’s why Fearless Leader started turning orange. He’s being cooked from the inside out in the White House!

Again, altogether, “We’re all going to die!”

In the meantime, a bunch of researchers at the University of Nebraska (it’s the corn) have come up with a new type of concrete that will ward off electromagnetic pulse attacks. Well, good for them. I’ll build me a new hidey hole with the stuff. They’re even working on a spray-on application to retrofit most structures. Spoiler alert: it’s as expensive as…I dunno…but it’s damned expensive!

Remember when the biggest thing we had to worry about was the domino theory as it applied to commies taking over the world?

Kind of makes me long for Ho Chi Minh…nah, strike that. I’ve never been that nostalgic. Again, somewhere a Millennial is asking…

Kill a commie for mommy…in a purely figurative sense of course.

That is all!
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