Hacker Chronicles 1/HACKER1.ISO/miscpub1/chapter4.txt

Text File | 1992-09-26 | 32KB | 529 lines

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  ║                                ┌────────┐                                ║
  ║                                │ CLERGY │                                ║
  ║                                └────────┘                                ║
  ╚══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝

     One of the most useful bits of armament in the trickster's arsenal is a
set of clerical garb.  Lenny Bruce proved how financially useful this disguise
is when he panhandled Miami dressed in a religious costume.  But then,
organized religion has known this for years, profitably practicing their old
proverb "Let us prey."

     Obtain and make use of overt religious garb.  It creates a wonderfully
secure and trustworthy image.  Drug marketeers often use priest and nun outfits
when moving dope.  In Ireland, weapons and explosives are smuggled by
kindly-looking middle-aged persons disguised as religious figures.

  ╔══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗
  ║                                 ┌───────┐                                ║
  ║                                 │ COINS │                                ║
  ║                                 └───────┘                                ║
  ╚══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝

     If consumer attorney Dale Richards is correct, more Americans lose money
to coin-operated vending machines than lose money gambling or paying taxes to
the IRS.  What's also astounding is that so few people rise above simple
vandalism as a response.

     Richards explains, "Many vending companies are quite liberal in their
refund policy.  They don't question most refund requests.  However, getting
refunds is annoying to people, it takes time, and the machines shouldn't cheat
people in the first place."

     People who work for vending companies claim that customer vandalism is why
the machines don't work in the first place.  Critics claim that
vandalism-repair cost is built into the price for the goods and services you
get from coin machines.  I'm not here to adjudicate this debate, but to pass
along some alternative philosophy.

     Abbie Hoffman says that every time you drop a coin down the slot of some
vending machine you are losing money needlessly.  There are many inexpensive
foreign coins that will duplicate the American version and operate vending
equipment.  It may be tough to get some of these coins, because many legitimate
dealers look suspiciously upon attempted purchases of large numbers of cheapie
foreign coins.  You could tell them that you use them for jewelry.  Apparently,
many coins dealers are establishment snitches, so be careful.

     Here, according to Hoffman, are the more useful foreign coins.  The
Icelandic five-auran piece is the most effective substitute for an American
quarter.  They are hard to come by, since they are no longer minted.  The
Uruguayan ten-centisimo coin will also substitute for the U.S. quarter in a
variety of vendng machines, parking meters, telephones, toll gates,
laundromats, etc.  It does not work in cirgarette machines.  The Danish
five-ore piece works in just about anything but pop and cigarette machines.

     Dime-sized coins include the Malaysian penny, which works in a variety of
machines and devices that take a dime.  Some of the newer vending machines will
reject this dime substitute.  Another ersatz dime is the Trinidad penny.

     You might be able to have friends who travel abroad get you rolls of these
coins for collection purposes or to make jewelry.

  ╔══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗
  ║                              ┌───────────┐                               ║
  ║                              │ COMPUTERS │                               ║
  ║                              └───────────┘                               ║
  ╚══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝

     The computer won't really be human until it can make a mistake, then cover
up by blaming the error on some other helpless machine.  More than one critic
has pointed out that it is machines, not people, that both run and ruin our
society.  It seems perfectly proper, then, to seek vengeance against these
tyrannical mechanical masters of ours.  Most of us have the advantage when
fighting a machine, because we can reason, we can note shades of gray, and we
can think abstractly, beyond a set program.  Machines cannot do this, unless
some person translates these abstractions into programmed sets of yes or no.

     The classic way of fighting a computer is to punch a few extra holes in
the computer card.  This, of course, screws up the system, and the computer
regurgitates your card.  A supervisor must handle the situation manually, which
costs money and time.  People punch these extra holes in cards using a keypunch
machine at a nearby school, or they simply and carefully cut a keypunch pattern
with an X-acto art knife.

     This sticky trick delights repair people, in addition to you.  Place a
large strip of Scotch tape on several computer cards.  The slippery surface
causes cards to fall off the track and into the bowels of the machine.  A
repair person has to come and perform mechanical surgery on the machine to
remove your fatal paper bullets that felled the machine.  This sort of dirty
trick can tie up equipment for several hours of very, very costly down time.

     Should the opportunity arise that you have a few secure moments with some
reels of computer tapes and you want to screw up whoever or whatever controls
the data on these tapes, you might try passing a portable electromagnet back
and forth across the tapes.  It erases them just the way a bulk eraser cleans
off you audio tapes at home.  In many cases computer-tape records are the only
records kept by many companies and schools.

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  ║                             ┌─────────────┐                              ║
  ║                             │ CONTRACTORS │                              ║
  ║                             └─────────────┘                              ║
  ╚══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝

     Just suppose your new home wasn't quite what the contractor ordered and
promised.  If you're lucky, you'll discover this sad fact before he's done
working on the house.  If not, you'll have to chase him to his next job site.
I once went through that many years ago, and it can be fun.

     Anyway, here's what you do.  Erect a huge sign on your lot that says
something like, BUY THIS UNDER-CONSTRUCTED, POORLY DONE HOME--CHEAP.  Display
the contractor's name and telephone number prominently.  When he comlains, tell
him you wouldn't think of subjecting your family to the horrors of living in
such a poorly constructed dump, and if he buys it you'll take down the sign.
Have a list of things you think are wrong with the house.  You have already
shown him your list if you had to eventually resort to the big sign.  Show him
again.  The heading of the list should state his name, address, and telephone
number along with your general beef about the poor quality of his work,
followed by the specific complaints.  Mimeograph this list so your contractor
will think you're handing them out faster than a politician's calling card.
It's worked well in the past.  You should get your grievances satisfied.

     A man calling himself Hank suggests one for the construction trade.  He
says that if your mark is building anything from concrete and you or your
allies have access to that concrete before it is poured, add concentrated
hydrochloric acid to it.  Hank claims, "I've seen it work--it causes slow but
continual deterioration of the structure from corrosion."

  ╔══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗
  ║                             ┌──────────────┐                             ║
  ║                             │ CREDIT CARDS │                             ║
  ║                             └──────────────┘                             ║
  ╚══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝

     Designed as a credit convenience for consumers and a big profit turner for
business, credit cards are impersonal pieces of plastic whose power potential
can be awesome.  The only way to use a credit card intelligently is to pay off
each month's balance, avoiding the outrageously high interest charges.  But
even paying on time doesn't always guarantee perfection.

     You are dealing with computers when you use credit cards.  God help you if
the computer rings you up as owing more money than you do or if the computer
slaps you with late payment, resulting in an interest charge.  Yes, there are
consumer-protection laws designed to help you.  But as more than a few people
will tell you, there is often a great deal of difference between principal and
principle.

     Kathy Ross had a bad time with magazine-subscription service through which
she ran a credit-card charge.  Not only did her new subscriptions get mixed up
with renewals, but she was charged for items she never ordered.  She followed
the consumer-protection rules, and within seven months she was being billed for
fifty dollars in interest charges alone, still didn't have the subscription
mess straightened out, and was getting dunning letters from the credit-card
company, calling her irresponsible.  Computers didn't understand her human
pleas for logical service.  Kathy never did get justice.  She paid the charges,
finally giving up because "it was easier."

     If you can get the mark's credit-card number, order a huge bunch of
mail-order merchandise for him/her.  Use the telephone to order things too.
The secret here, according to a former security agent for one of the card
companies, is to keep the amount of each individual purchase under forty
dollars, because telephone confirmations are made on greater amounts.  Just
make hundreds of forty-dollar purchases in a short time.

     Using the mark's credit-card information to place telephone orders
involves some investigation, according to Robert Schoster, a master
manipulator.  Sometimes, Schuster will simply call the mark's home, pretending
to be a verification clerk at some local credit union or bank.  Schuster gives
the mark's full name and address, then asks the mark or the mark's spouse to
please verify the credit-card numbers.  If it works, and Schuster says it does
ninety-nine percent of the time, you are now ready to order all sorts of goods
and services on behalf of the mark.

     If you don't have his/her credit-card number and you feel honest, don't
steal with it.  Go a step beyond and report the mark's card as stolen.
Pretend you are the mark.  That will cause some upset for the real mark when
he/she tries to use the card a week or so later.

     This is fraud, but one recycled Yippie who is now billed as a professional
psychic for the various supermarket tabloids told me how he applied for and got
various credit cards merely by lying on his application.  Easily getting cards,
he would run the credit to the extreme and beyond on the cards, survive the
corporate dunning letters, then move to a new location without benefit of
forwarding address.  Despite my doubts, several corporations I asked denied
that they passed along these losses to the rest of us in the form of outrageous
intrest charges.

  ╔══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗
  ║                       ┌─────────────────────────┐                        ║
  ║                       │ DELIVERY OF CONSUMABLES │                        ║
  ║                       └─────────────────────────┘                        ║
  ╚══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝

    For years kids have ripped off beer distributors' trucks, pizza wagons,
etc.  The scam is to call the place from a pay phone and give them a fake name
in some high-rise apartment.  Give them the pay-phone number and stick around
there for a while, since some places call back to confirm orders.  When the
truck arrives with the order, and while he is up there trying to find a
nonexistent customer, you could help yourself to what's left in the truck.

     Why would anyone want rip off an innocent beer-delivery truck or pizza
wagon?  Fred Littman has one reason, saying "I ordered a pizza at one place
locally, and it was awful.  I spoke with the manager, and he told me to get
lost and refused to give me my money back.  I figured I had some free pizza
coming to make up for that."

     Lefty Gaylor has another reason:  "We swipe beer from only one
distributor, because everyone knows he's a big Mafia type, and they rip off
everyone else, so why not steal from them?"

     Isn't stealing from the Mafia dangerous?

     "Not if you don't get caught, and this one's too dumb to know any better.
He blames the drivers, and they get mad and figure if they're gonna get blamed,
they might as well steal beer from him.  That way we multiply our efforts."

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  ║                            ┌───────────────┐                             ║
  ║                            │ DIRTY OLD MEN │                             ║
  ║                            └───────────────┘                             ║
  ╚══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝

    If you know some jerk who's a terminal lecher, not just a dirty old man,
but a truly, grossly obnoxious swine, the following is a sure-fire method
that's right on target.  You need either three or four associates, depending on
whether you personally want to go into the field on this one.  One of your
associates must be a comely young lady.

     The drill goes like this.  The mark is told about the young lady.  She is
described as being either an unfaithful wife or a hot-to-trot daughter,
depending on the age and circumstance.  The mark is told she has eyes and
everything else for him, and that if he wants to have a lot of heavy action,
you or an associate will make the introduction.

     As you approach the fateful house on the evening decided upon, you or
your associate, acting as a "guide," must stress that the husband or father is
a fiery and jealous man and that she takes you on as a secret lover because of
insatiable lust, etc.  Build up both the sexual suspense and the thrill of the
forbidden.  You have to get his adrenaline and imagination cooking really well.

     The mark and his guide are at the door and the sweet young thing opens it
and moans out a greeting.  She should be dressed--or undressed--in the
appropriate fashion.  The mark should have just enough time to wet his lips and
survey her architectural lines.  About the time his eyes bug is time for the
next act.

     Instantly, a large man comes roaring around the corner of the house,
bellowing in rage about the honor of his wife or daughter.  The guide screams
in shrill terror, "Run!  Run like hell!  It's the husband [or father]!"

     As the mark and guide start to dash away, a couple of shots are fired, and
the guide falls.  As he falls, he screams to the mark, "Jesus, keep running!
He's killed me!"  Another shot rings out; then all is silent.

     All is not really silent.  The mark's heart is probably thudding against
his chest like a caged elephant.  It's a great idea to carry on with this
scenario for a few days, with you or another conspirator, who has been
undercover, keeping the mark apprised of the guide's condition from the
supposed gunshot wound.  It would also be good to float the rumor that the
father or husband is spending all his time looking for "the other bastard who
got away."

     The mark won't stop his fearful shakes long enough to wonder why the
police haven't arrested the husband or father.  Maybe, when he does come to
this logical question, he will call the police and ask for protection.  This
scam turns a lot of corners before the mark finally realizes that he's been
had.  The police probably won't be as amused as you are, but you'll not know
about that.  The mark will.

     If you know the right street people, and if you're going into dirty tricks
you must know them, you will have trickster access to ladies with social
diseases.  Some of the veterans of the streets will help you out between
treatments for a price.  Younger, less-experienced ladies don't know they have
the diseases, but their pimp or madam does.  Think how much fun it would be if
you could hire one of these venereal versions of Typhoid Mary to dazzle, pick
up, and seduce your mark.  This scam has been pulled off successfully by at
least four people I know personally.  It is not that hard if you plan, bargain,
and buy ahead.

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  ║                                ┌───────┐                                 ║
  ║                                │ DRUGS │                                 ║
  ║                                └───────┘                                 ║
  ╚══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝

    Once, a very close friend of mine was badly hurt by a former employee who
not only had been stealing from the company, but when the employee left, she
said and did some terrible things that damaged my friend personally and
professionally.  Revenge was the best medicince, and he did extract his dose.

     He waited a year to get even.  It was worth it.  The woman has moved to
another job in a city about two hundred miles away, in the next state.  Having
access to drugs, my friend got a small amount of cocaine and planted it in her
car during a special visit to the other city for just that purpose.  He then
used a pay phone to call police and give them the lady's name.  He told them
that she'd just burned him on a drug deal and that he was turning her in
because of it.

     As this is written, the case is going to court.  Happily for my friend,
this female actually had a bit of marijuana on her person when she got busted
for the planted coke.  Talk about good luck.  The third stroke of luck was that
this bust took place in New York State.  He has followed the case through the
other city's newspaper and through a friend.  He says the police aren't buying
her story of innocence.  The best part is that by now, she can't think of
anyone who would have a motive to hurt her.

     Having drugs around is a very dangerous risk.  But if the stakes are
right, it can become a very serious business for the mark.  You should know
that your call to the police will be recorded.  Disguise you voice mechanically
by using a rerecording tape, or inhale some helium from a balloon just before
you make the call, since it will alter you voice totally.  If you're a good
thespian, try to use a foreign or regional accent.  Speak very softly, also.
Don't stay on the line for more than thirty to forty-five seconds.  Do your
number and hang up.

     An old head like William Harvey would get a chuckle from this, if he were
still with us to enjoy it.  If his mark was straight or naive about dope, Bill
thought it was fun to mail him/her bagfuls of chopped weeds, oregano, etc.,
with some incense sprinkled on for scent.  As an added touch he included one or
two joints rolled using the bogus weed, with a note saying, "Enjoy the samples
on me."

     These materials were mailed to the mark's home address using a slight
variation in the spelling of the name.  Ideally, the mark thought she/he had
been confused as an innocent dupe in a dope deal.  After a day or two, Harvey
had a male with a rough, raspy voice call the mark to ask if some package had
been misdirected to him/her by accident.  The caller suggested that other,
nastier accidents might happen if the mark did anything uncool like calling the
authorities.  Naturally, the mark already had done this.  What would you expect
a mark-type person to do?  After all, that's how people get to be marks.

     As a postgraduate version of this scam, Harvey used to send a package
containing some suspicious-looking white crystalline powder (sometimes with a
touch of brown) using the same bit just described.

  ╔══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗
  ║                        ┌───────────────────────┐                         ║
  ║                        │ ENVIRONMENTAL RAPISTS │                         ║
  ║                        └───────────────────────┘                         ║
  ╚══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝

    If you dislike land rapists, such as big developers, big real estaters,
gas and oil drillers, etc., then your first order of business is to read Edward
Abbey's THE MONKEY WRENCH GANG, twice.  The first time you read for fun and
pleasure; the second reading might be for tactics, as in a manual.  For
example, if you've had unpleasant dealings with utility companies "creating
progress" in your area, for example building roads, drilling gas or oil wells,
stripping coal, deep mining, etc. you know the feelings.  The monkey wrenchers
have an answer.

     Note the advice of one of Abbey's protagonists:

     "Always pull up survey stakes.  Anywhere you find them.  Always.  That's
the first goddamned general order in this monkey wrench business.  Always pull
up survey stakes."

     He should have added that you should always disguise the dirt from the
stake hole, tamp it down, and disguise the scar, so the enemy cannot simply
replace the stake.  A further suggestion would be to move the survey
stakes...perhaps enough that a lawsuit could be instituted against the
environmental rapists.

     According to a Cat operator I shared several lemonades with a few times,
Karo syrup poured into the fuel tank of heavy machinery is enough to deadline
the equipment for a thorough bit of maintenance.

     "It'll turn to solid carbon, that syrup, and seize the engine up tight.
It makes a helluva mess of an engine.  I'd suggest about three to four quarts
per tankful.

     "Now look, though," he cautioned, his eyes glinting hard enough to stare
open clam shells at a hundred yards, "if you did that to my own machine I'd
come after you hard.  But if it was a company machine or if they'd leased my
machine, hell, I'd probably buy you a drink afterward!"

     In the summer of 1978, about 150 angry farmers in Minnesota held a
beer-and-hot-dog party to celebrate the coming of the "bolt weevils."  The
party and the "weevils" cost a utility giant a quarter of a million dollars.

     The farmers were fighting mad over the invasion of the huge utility
conglomerates who were running their power towers and lines across the
countryside, ruining farms and dairy operations.  All legal and moral efforts
to oppose this land rape failed.  That's when the "bolt weevils" came to the
farmers' rescue.

     After beating off state police by using Wrist Rocket slingshots to fire
ball bearings at patrol-car windows, the farmers brought out their wrenchs and
cutting tools.  Soon, after two of the 150-foot-tall, hundred-thousand-dollar
transmission towers lay smashed on the ground, victims of the "bolt weevils."

     A dozen years ago, these farmers were staunch, conservative Americans,
firmly behind "their" government, and they claim that the radicals of the
sixties were right.  That's comforting, at last.

     One farmer says, "The goddamn government's playing red herring, bleating
about Arab terrorists and weathermen and the underground.  Hell, it's the
people -- us, the little people -- they better watch out for.  We're the
revolutionaries, and we're ready to fight.

     "They may finish this power line and others, but the greedy, land-raping
bastards will never keep it in operation.  There's not enough guards for that.
And more people are coming around to our way."

     You could almost hear an echo of "All the power to the people," with not
hint of a pun.

     A major gas company was ripping and raping all over the countryside, using
the national need for natural gas as its excuse for avarice.  One landowner
whose livestock were distupted by the gas-drilling operation decided to get
even, quietly.

     Farmer Dale explained, "I knew a little bit about the state environmental
regulations, so I decided to help the gas company violate as many of them as I
could, even if it mean sacrificing a few things of my own.

     "Late one evening, I kicked over the hose from their fuel tank and opened
the valve.  By morning, the result was nearly seven hundred gallons of diesel
fuel in the stream below my place.  It took members of the sportmen's club
about a mile downstream two hours to get state officials out there to the well
site.  Because of a phone call I'd made earlier, the local newspaper sent a
reporter, too.

     "Later that day, I dumped my barrel of old crankcase oil on the drilling
access road, and you should have seen the foreman's pickup when it hit that
oil.  He slammed through my cornfield.  I acted really wild, raising hell about
first polluting our stream, then wrecking my crops and spilling oil on the
road.  He was shook up to beat hell and blamed his own truckers for leaking
oil.  I billed their company for three-hundred dollars in damages, and he
endorsed the bill for payment right there."

     Farmer Dale did some other things that week, like move and replace those
"Underground Cable" markers used by the power and phone companies to mark
buried wires.  Naturally, the driller's dozer tore up the real wires, creating
further havoc.  He sprayed weed killer on his own crops, within a hundred-yard
radius of the gas well, then raised hell witht the state agricultural people.
He submitted a bill for a thousand dollars for damaging his crops, although the
gas company balked -- at first.

     "Finally I dumped some chemicals in my old well and had the water tested
(he had had the water tested prior to the drilling, of course) by the county.
They reported it had gotten polluted during the time the gas well was being
drilled.  I turned it all over to my attorney at this time."

     His attorney filed to have the drilling permit revoked and also to sue the
company for huge damage settlements.  The case was settled out of court,
allowing the company to finish its rape, yet at a very high price, including
unlimited free gas and a lot of cash for Farmer Dale.

     Another combatant in the never-ending war between the land rapists and
landowners or environmentalists borrowed the old OSS tire-spike idea, married
it to the Malay gate of Indochinese fame, and put some heavy vehicles on the
shelf for a while.  Angered because the well drillers for a natural-gas company
were filling their mammoth water-tank trucks from a trout stream that ran
through his property, a landowner spiked their plans.  He took a two-inch-thick
piece of twelve-inch board and pounded five ten-inch housing spikes through it.
The board was about eighteen inches long.  He did the same thing to another
board.

     The ambush site was the deeply rutted pull-off spot the heavy water trucks
used when they sucked thousands of gallons of good water from the clean stream.
The giant trucks had callously dug deep ruts, which filled with water from
their sloshing loads.  Our combatant placed his spiked boards tips upward, into
the ruts.  He did this on a random schedule over a one-month period, disabling
a total of seven trucks and finally forcing the land rapists and their trucks
to another fill-up point.

     As a postscript, he enjoyed this activity so much that he built dozens of
the spike devices and became a traveling one-man hit squad, placing the traps
whenever he saw evidence of the heavy water-tank trucks.

  ╔══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗
  ║                              ┌────────────┐                              ║
  ║                              │ EXPLOSIVES │                              ║
  ║                              └────────────┘                              ║
  ╚══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝

    Now that the feds have outlawed fireworks, you'd better save all the M80s
you can find.  Extremely versatile devices, M80s are excellent propellants for
other substances.  For example, this stunt started out as a dorm prank at
Clapper Packer University but soon escalated into more deadly sport, which went
like this.  Put some fresh feces, the looser the bettter, into a large Baggie.
Gently break the glass on a large-wattage lightbulb, but do not disturb the
filament.  Even more gently attach the filament to the fuse of the M80.  Screw
the bulb carefully back into a ceiling socket.  Finally, move the bag of feces
up and around the light fixture.  Be certain the fuse and filament do not touch
the feces, but see that the M80 is into the substance.  Tape the bag to the
ceiling.

     Naturally, all this presupposes you have access to the mark's room or to a
room where the mark is likely to be the one who comes in and turns on the
light.  One cautionary note:  Be sure the light switch is off when you screw in
the bulb.  If it's not, you have about four seconds to avoid getting nasty
coverage from the M80's blast.  Done correctly, this is a spectacular stunt.
As the designer of this one, George Dierk adds, "You don't have to limit your
spatter substance to feces.  Paint, cheap perfume, acid, and CS gas all have
their place."

     Gun powder has a lot of uses in addition to filling up a portion of
cartridges.  If your mark has an outdoor barbecue, you could sprinkle a cup of
old-fashioned black powder around the bottom of the grill.  When the powder
ignites it will do so with a huge, whooshy flash, accompanied by a great white
cloud of smelly smoke.  I would hate to imagine the multiple effects of such a
pyrotechnical display on one of those fancy grills powdered by LP gas.  Wow!

     Don't let your imagination rest with the cookout grill.  Remember
fireplaces, wood stoves, ovens, etc.  The experts suggest you use black powder
rather than the more modern smokeless powders.  Black powder really works!

     If you can't get a regular smoke-bomb device, a smoke grenade, or
something real from the military, make your own.  According to Doctor Abraham
Hoffman, the noted chemist, you combine four parts sugar to six-parts saltpeter
(potassium nitrate).  You heat this mixture over a very low flame until it
starts to blend into a plastic substance.  When it begins to gel, remove it
from the heat and allow it to cool.  He suggests you stick a few wooden match
heads into the mass while it's still pliable.  You also add a fuse at this
point.  The smoke device is nonexplosive and nonflammable.  But a pound of this
mixture will produce enough thick smoke to cover a city block.  Watch which way
the wind blows.

     John E Warrenburger likes to mess up people's nervous systems.  One of his
favorite nonlethal tricks involving nonexplosives is a good bit of cardiac
theater.

     John says, "I bundle a few of those road flares -- the ones in the red
jackets -- together and wrap them with black plastic tape.  Connect this with
some coiled wiring to a ticking alarm clock and place it so your mark will get
the full visual and aural effect.
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