Doxing Quotes

I've found you can ignore half of what Dox tells you and not miss much-except for maybe they occasional complaint that you're spending too much.

anyone know where Kell is?" "Sleeping," Vin said. "He came in late last night, and hasn't gotten up yet." Ham grunted, taking a bite of baywrap. "Dox?" "In his room on the third floor," Vin said. "He got up early, came down to get something to eat, and went back upstairs." ... Ham raised an eyebrow. "You always keep track of where everyone is like that?" "Yes.

Everything costs money," Ham said. "But, what is money? A physical representation of the abstract concept of effort. I'd say that this vest and I are even now." Dockson just rolled his eyes. In the main room, the shop's front door opened and closed, and Vin heard Breeze bid hello to the apprentice on watch. "By the way, Dox," Kelsier said, leaning with his back against a cupboard. "I'm going to need a few 'physical representations of the concept of effort' myself. I'd like to rent a small warehouse to conduct some of my informant meetings.

Attacking a provincial lord in his manor house, surrounded by guards...Honestly, Kell, I'd nearly forgotten how foolhardy you can be. "Foolhardy?" Kelsier asked with a laugh. "that wasn't foolhardy - that was just a small diversion. You should see some of the things I'm planning to do! Dockson stood for a moment then he laughed too. "By the Lord Ruler, it's good to have you back, kell! I'm afraid I've grown rather boring during the last few years" "We'll fix that" Kelsier promised.

It’s madness to see life as it is and not how it should be.

I urge you strongly not to give Stop the Goodreads Bullies traffic. Their initial postings were all doxings of reviewers. ... There are a lot of arguments on the legitimacy of doxing, but I think most reasonable people would agree that the response to a negative - not even libelous - review should not be the open posting of a reviewer's address. That's not the counter of speech by more speech, but with an implicit threat. It's not that you're wrong, and here's why; it's that I know where you live.

violence is a feature, not a bug, of antifa’s ideology. In fact, they venerate violence. Since 2015, untold numbers of victims, including other journalists, have been doxed, beaten, robbed, or killed by antifa militants. Few of them receive media attention—or justice.

One person can harass and stalk anyone, anywhere. We have one individual who has SWATTED and doxed over two hundred women, some of them multiple times.” “Remind me again, dox?

So how do we get from there to a pattern of experience that can stand for the whole of postcolonial Latin America? Ah, our para dox again. The solution, dear Brutus, lies not in our stars but in ourselves.

Worse still, they implement all of these things with brute force: violence, censorship, character assassination, smear campaigns, doxing, trolling, deplatforming, and online witch hunts. Tricks that are deliberately designed to leave people down and out. Ideally, jobless and without the resources to push back.

The Godshaw’s were new clients this year…along with Cherry Jones.

The condemnation of digital media has two sides. There is a legitimate claim that digital media has given old viciousness new visibility. . .. Certain facets of social media—speed, anonymity, the ability to "dox"—have changed the nature of harassment, making it easier to accomplish and less likely to be redressed. But are the mainstream media any different in their biases and cruelty? They do not appear to be. Mainstream media cruelty is actually more dangerous, for it incorporates language that, were it blogged by an unknown, would likely be written off as the irrelevant ramblings of a sociopath. Instead, the prestige of old media gives bigoted ranting respectability. Even in the digital age, old media define and shape the culture, repositioning the lunatic fringe as the voice of reason.

Breeze raised his dueling cane, pointing it at Ham. "I see my period of intellectual respite has come to an end." Ham smiled. "I thought up a couple of beastly questions while I was gone, and I've been saving them just for you, Breeze." "I'm dying of anticipation," Breeze said. He turned his cane toward Lestibournes. "Spook, drink." Spook rushed over and fetched Breeze a cup of wine. "He's such a fine lad," Breeze noted, accepting the drink. "I barely even have to nudge him Allomantically. If only the rest of you ruffians were so accommodating." Spook frowned "Niceing the not on the playing without." "I have no idea what you just said, child," Breeze said. "So I'm simply going to pretend it was coherent, then move on." Kelsier rolled his eyes. "Losing the stress on the nip," he said. "Notting without the needing of care." "Riding the rile of the rids to the right," Spook said with a nod. "What are you two babbling about?" Breeze said testily. "Wasing the was of brightness," Spook said. "Nip the having of wishing of this." "Ever wasing the doing of this," Kelsier agreed. Breeze turned to Dockson with exasperation. "I believe our companions have finally lost their minds, dear friend." Dockson shrugged. Then, with a perfectly straight face, he said, "Wasing not of wasing is." Breeze sat, dumbfounded, and the room burst into laughter. Breeze rolled his eyes indignantly, shaking his head and muttering about the crew's gross childishness. Vin nearly choked on her wine as she laughed. "What did you even say?" she asked of Dockson as he sat down beside her. "I'm not sure," he confessed. "It just sounded right." "I don't think you said anything, Dox," Kelsier said.

Unkar Delta at Mile 73 The layers of brick red sandstone, siltstone, and mudstone of the Dox formation deposited a billion years ago, erode easily, giving the landscape an open, rolling character very different that the narrow, limestone walled canyon upstream, both in lithology and color, fully fitting Van Dyke’s description of “raspberry-red color, tempered with a what-not of mauve, heliotrope, and violet.” Sediments flowing in from the west formed deltas, floodplains, and tidal flats, which indurated into these fine-grained sedimentary rocks thinly laid deposits of a restful sea, lined with shadows as precise as the staves of a musical score, ribboned layers, an elegant alteration of quiet siltings and delicious lappings, crinkled water compressed, solidified, lithified.

told you, we’re rebuilding. There’s you, there’s Larison, I hope, and there are a few others. And there are two in particular I want you to track down.” “Who?” “A former marine sniper, goes by the name Dox, is one.” “Who’s the other?” Hort took a sip of wine. “The same man who taught me about honne and tatemae. A half-Japanese former soldier gone freelance, named Rain. John

Diaz moved as though to get out. “No, ma’am,” Dox said, scoping the area. “Tell me where the phone is and you stay put. Just in case there are any unfriendlies in the area.” “Behind a book called Recursion, by Blake Crouch. Level three. Fiction.

Don't tell me where I live if I have not told you where I live. That's not the flex. It's creepy.

There was FEAR, meaning False Evidence Appearing Real. And there was the other definition—Fuck Everything and Run. He wasn’t sure which was in play in his mind just now.

Can I ask you two a serious question?” he said, looking from one to the other. Each of them frowned in concentration, but neither answered. Damn, they were like a couple of outfielders letting the ball drop because they didn’t know who was supposed to catch it.

God knew the scooters and shooters needed solid intel to figure out who to blame and where to aim,

Sazed,” Vin she finally said. “He saved me. The Inquisitor was about to kill me, but…Dox, what is he?” “Sazed?” Dockson asked. “That’s probably a question I should let him answer.

Doxing has come to be classified as a form of violence, in and of itself. What's mildly amusing is that, prior to the internet, most Americans doxed themselves. Home addresses and telephone numbers were listed in the phone book, annually distributed to every local home for free. Phone customers were charged a monthly fee if they didn't want their home number included in the directory. And possession of the physical directory wasn't even necessary. It was possible to dial the telephone operator and request an immediate con- nection to almost anyone's home phone, without consent. All that was needed was the spelling of the person's last name and an educated guess as to the area code in which they lived. How did something once considered a normal extension of establishing residence become a disturbing act of aggression, during a decade when crime statistically decreased? The explanation is twofold. The first is that the early internet was built around anonymity. It was populated by people known only by their fabricated screen names, interacting with anonymous strangers they knew nothing about. This established a new expectation of confidentiality, where it was assumed everyone had the inherent right to say or do whatever they wanted online, without those words or actions impinging on life in the real world.

Because if it was exceptional, it must be an exception, maybe even the exception that proved the rule. And the rule was that I would always be alone, and could never trust anyone. But my partnership with Dox didn’t fit comfortably with that rule. And my relationship with Delilah suggested that Midori hadn’t just been a one-off, either. So now, some wretched part of me was intent on turning Dox and Delilah into exceptions, too, so it could pat itself on the back and proclaim, “See? I told you so.

Dockson held some of that same hardness. Kell and Dox weren’t evil men, but there was an edge of vengefulness to them. Oppression had changed them in ways that no amount of peace, reformation, or recompense could redeem. Dockson

Alles hetzelfde.

I love staying up late at night, mainly because that's when my creativity comes to life and my ideas sprout from my mind. The best are windy or raining nights when you can hear the leaves and branches rustling and even the trees themselves swaying.

V pražském Centru současného umění DOX vítá návštěvníky už více než tři roky nápis nad vnitřním vchodem: „Jsem českej srab, který čuměl, když nakládali Židy (teplouše a mrzáky), hajloval náckům, mával komoušům a pak chtěl jistotu desetinásobku.“ Autorem je skupina Pode Bal. Jeden z návštěvníků majitele DOXu zažaloval za urážku národa, žalobu však Policie ČR odložila s argumentem, že „vystavením tohoto textu nebyla naplněna skutková podstata trestného činu“ hanobení národa,

You don’t have anything to fear from us. Other than Dox’s breath.” Dockson rolled his eyes. “Or Kell’s jokes.

I noted he had no place to conceal a weapon or transmitter. I wondered whether the attire had been chosen deliberately, to reassure me. Dox liked to play the hick, and a lot of people bought the act, but I knew he could be subtle when he wanted to be.

Reloader was a term he’d picked up from Dox. It meant someone so formidable you’d empty the whole magazine into him, eject, reload, and empty the second magazine, too, just to be sure.

We went back inside and I grabbed my weapons, quickly putting them back on. “Dox, I need a favor.

How was confounding defined then, and how should it be defined? Armed with what we now know about the logic of causality, the answer to the second question is easier. The quantity we observe is the conditional probability of the outcome given the treatment, P(Y | X). The question we want to ask of Nature has to do with the causal relationship between X and Y, which is captured by the interventional probability P( Y | do(X)). Confounding, then, should simply be defined as anything that leads to a discrepancy between the two: P(Y | X) != P(Y | do(X)). Why all the fuss.

Why did bad things, things she had no control over, make her unable to enjoy good things?

Maybe I would ask Dox what he made of it. I’d been reluctant to before, fearful of the accuracy of his insights. But accurate insights might have helped me. Medicine isn’t supposed to taste good—that’s what candy is for. Medicine is supposed to make you better.

And no amount of “deconstruction” helps here: the ultimate formof idolatry is the deconstructive purifying of this Other, so that all thatremains of the Other is its place, the pure form of Otherness as theMessianic Promise. It is here that we encounter the limit of decon-struction: as Derrida himself has realized in the last two decades, themore radical a deconstruction is, the more it has to rely on its inher-ent undeconstructible condition of deconstruction, the messianicpromise of Justice.This promise is the true Derridean object of belief,and Derrida’s ultimate ethical axiom is that this belief is irreducible,“undeconstructible.” Thus Derrida can indulge in all kinds of para-doxes, claiming, among other things, that it is only atheists who trulypray—precisely by refusing to address God as a positive entity, theysilently address the pure Messianic Otherness. Here one should em-phasize the gap which separates Derrida from the Hegelian tradition:It would be too easy to show that, measured by the failure to establishliberal democracy, the gap between fact and ideal essence does notshow up only in . . . so-called primitive forms of government, theoc-racy and military dictatorship....But this failure and this gap alsocharacterize,a prioriand by definition,all democracies, including theoldest and most stable of so-called Western democracies. At stake hereis the very concept of democracy as concept of a promise that can onlyarise in such a diastema(failure, inadequation, disjunction, disadjust-ment, being “out of joint”).That is why we always propose to speak ofa democracy to come,not of a futuredemocracy in the future present, noteven of a regulating idea, in the Kantian sense, or of a utopia—at leastto the extent that their inaccessibility would still retain the temporalform of a future present,of a future modality of the living present.15Here we have the difference between Hegel and Derrida at its purest:Derrida accepts Hegel’s fundamental lesson that one cannot assert theinnocent ideal against its distorted realization.This holds not only fordemocracy, but also for religion—the gap which separates the idealconcept from its actualization is already inherent to the concept itself:just as Derrida claims that “God already contradicts Himself,” that anypositive conceptual determination of the divine as a pure messianicpromise already betrays it, one should also say that “democracy already139 contradicts itself.” It is also against this background that Derrida elab-orates the mutual implication of religion and radical evil:16radical evil(politically: “totalitarianism”) emerges when religious faith or reason(or democracy itself) is posited in the mode of future present. Against Hegel, however, Derrida insists on the irreducible excess inthe ideal concept which cannot be reduced to the dialectic betweenthe ideal and its actualization: the messianic structure of “to come,”the excess of an abyss which can never be actualized in its determinatecontent. Hegel’s own position here is more intricate than it may ap-pear: his point is not that, through gradual dialectical progress, onecan master the gap between the concept and its actualization, andachieve the concept’s full self-transparency (“Absolute Knowing”).Rather, to put it in speculative terms, his point is to assert a “pure”contradiction which is no longer the contradiction between theundeconstructible pure Otherness and its failed actualizations/determinations, but the thoroughly immanent “contradiction” whichprecedes any Otherness.

Georgiana stared at her, her eyes searching her hesitant stance, her apparent nonchalance. “You’re the dox,” she whispered.

The connection between the completely virtual and the utterly real, as evidenced by something like Pizzagate, or the doxing and swatting of online journalists, is deeply, fundamentally disturbing on a human phenomenological level.

Doxan Iconography?” “A Praxic Age moving picture serial. An adventure drama about a military spaceship sent to a remote part of the galaxy to prevent hostile aliens from establishing hegemony, and marooned when their hyperdrive is damaged in an ambush. The captain of the ship was passionate, a hothead. His second-in-command was Dox, a theorician, brilliant, but unemotional and cold.

Sazed,” she finally said. “He saved me. The Inquisitor was about to kill me, but … Dox, what is he?