Friday, September 26, 2014

Perjury? Neal Rauhauser And His Texas Cell Phone

Posted By: ZiLe Ohai - September 26, 2014

Neal swore in a court document that he had absolutely no ties to Texas. In his 2012 Tumblr blog (which is the entry with the Blue Line map below) he writes "My cell phone buzzed a bit ago, the one with the 832 area code, and I was pleased to see my bike messenger friend’s number with an invite."

He mentioned that phone number several times in blog posts. It was 832-429-4827.

832 area code is Houston.

Houston is in Texas.

You don't get a cell phone with a Texas area code unless you're in Texas.


The original and specific Tumblr post can be seen here via the Wayback MachineT

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Neal Rauhauser

This is my day. She knows it’s coming. She’s convinced me. I don’t think anyone else will believe it, and the rain in D.C. has me carrying my umbrella.

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Everyone’s heard of Erwin Schroedinger’s famous thought experiment. You put a cat in a box with a bottle of poison, which many people would suggest is about as far as you need to go.

— (Terry Pratchett, The Unadulterated Cat)

Neuromancer. Neuro-romancer. Necromancer. The seducer of the mind, after the body is gone past the point of repair. A lonely simulacra purgatory, what comes after reflection, perversion, and pretense.

Steganography is the science of writing hidden messages. Most commonly associated with images or text messages hidden in the least significant bits of a digital photo, a quick click through to the link behind this image will show that there are many interpretations of this, some involving audio or video files.

OpenPuff seems the most full featured of the offerings there and I’m investigating it now. This is a broad hint that any image posted by me might have a steganographic attachment.

SteganRTP is another intriguing concept - the least significant bits of an RTP stream - a VoIP call - can be used to transfer data. Run that between systems with the zFone shim and your data transfer vanishes into the noise floor.

Are you doing anything with steganography? If you want hints as to how to pick outwhich images are important it’s best to text me at 832-429-4827.



I arrived at Crystal City and literally walked by Ms. Bike Messenger. I’ve only ever seen her dressed for work, the motley collection of spandex and camo and her lucky sticker laden helmet.

Today she was in low heeled knee high boots, knee length skirt, and a long, dark sweater to match. Her wool overcoat and hat pure professional, the only vestige of messenger-ness were her white knit fingerless gloves.

We roamed, mixing with the Crystal City 1k Wine Walk crowd. She already had marathon style number tags and wine glasses for us, so we fit with the rest of the crowd. We walked and talked, getting to know each other. Occasionally her hand would curl around my arm, providing a tiny bit of pressure. Pay attention.

We looked at people and closed shops and all the rest of the flow of a Sunday out in Crystal City. We noticed exits, and distances, and bathrooms where someone dressed as a messenger could extract professional clothes from a backpack, change, and become someone else going somewhere else.


Skulking. To move about stealthily.

That’s what the dictionary says, but if friends ask where I’m going and I say “skulking” they know that means a trip to Virginia. I change at Metro Center, passing through Rosslyn if I’m westbound to meet various fellow skulkers out there. Gallery Place is more convenient if I’m going to the warren of high rises that isCrystal City.

My cell phone buzzed a bit ago, the one with the 832 area code, and I was pleased to see my bike messenger friend’s number with an invite. We’re going to Crystal City today when it’s quiet so I can have a look around. Hopefully I’ll appear to know what the hell I’m doing when it’s showtime, either Tuesday or Thursday of this coming week.


My phone rang around lunch today, a strange number, but close to others I knew. A female voice, part of this new group that just hired me. She’d heard I knew about wiring, was that true? Yes. Could I come help her with a line in the house she was remodeling, and we’d cover what we needed to while we did this?

I get strange invitations on a pretty much weekly basis, so that wasn’t a big deal, but the direction things went were … surreal.

Nice Federal style home, Eastern Market Metro stop. No furniture, wiring and plumbing and lighting updates under way. We start on the second floor, someone has left a fish tape. We’re getting a line from the upstairs bedroom down to the basement with a stop in the living room.

The house is brick, with furring, and then plaster. Fishing line is a trick in this sort of space. You go up, you go down, you get debris falling inside the wall, some times you get 80% of what you want, then hit a dead stop. She is competent help for this task, not afraid to get dirty, if I ask her to pull back two feet the tape moves more or less twenty four inches.

Competent on the other end of a wiring run, and competent as a lawyer. She’s read my jacket. What was my role in this event or that? Picking an event that was an obvious problem, what should have been done differently? What are my thoughts on oversight? Privacy?

Then we’re in the basement, puzzling over how to get the wire through this narrow space, and we’re close. And things change.

She’s tall, maybe 5’9”. Blonde hair, gray eyes. Ten years younger than me. Smart. Cool. This isn’t about attraction, it’s a test. Close. Touching. Treat it like a come on and fail. Freeze and fail. Finally I find her back, just above the waist of her jeans, a place one’s hand would rest during a dance at a wedding.

The question here? How will I handle women, no, how would I handle one woman, if I’m on assignment somewhere? That obviously changes situation by situation, but I passed the test, as well as a man can.

She was embarrassed maybe, somehow conflicted as we stepped apart. A woman like this has plenty of choices, men with power and money, this was a business thing, not an attraction thing.

I put “gray eyes blonde hair” into Google Images. The little anime ronin poised with her sword popped up, beating out Petra Wilson in her role in La Femme Nikita to represent this curious, memorable afternoon.

OK, world, what’s next?


I am just a chatty Cathy today, aren’t I? This is the last one, I promise, it’s almost my turn to drive. If you’re partially disabled and no longer able to work a 9 to 5, but you still have very marketable skills, there are a variety of things you can do.

If you produce or massage quantitative data there is a micro-market in the form of InfoChimps. You sign up for an account, post your stuff, and promote it.

I often post things here that link to my personal Scribd, but I have another one with an innocuous name that is used for paying work. People don’t tend to download things at random with high three digit or low four digit price tags, generally a transaction involves posting while the customer is on the phone, they pay, then I zap the document.

I used to ply my trade on Elance, but that market has pretty much collapsed - there are a lot of people who do IP network engineering, many of them are Indian kids with passable English who will take a quarter of what I used to charge. I miss those $1,000/day engagements, truly I do. But my last serious implementation was four years ago and receding a little more with each passing day.

This little outburst was set off by another favorited Tweet - I long ago marked this list of Data Repositories and I really do need to carefully read through this and determine what can be folded, spindled, mutilated, and then sold for a profit.

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