Hacko Whacko

My webmaster a.k.a. Harry  Coverts mailed me a while ago about my web  having been hacked , denying access to visitors and showing this instead:

The Suicide Joker, Arabic script and a justifiable outcry of anger about the unwillingness of the world to help the so-called insurgeants.  Real Ali McCoy  or fake?

A friend that I showed it freaked and acted like I had just become a second Salman Rushdie, or worse: a new Theo van Gogh. Security 0%. THE END! (What  made it creepy was the mention of the ‘Steex Hacker’. I had just decided to call my forthcoming book on death: ‘ Styx’, after the river of death. ‘Steex’? ‘Styx’ pronounced by an Arab?)

I  – puzzled but coolheaded as ever -  assumed I was just a random victim because of some sort hole in my defense and I was, Harry told me while fixin’ the hole. { Never took him for a Beatlesfan!}

styx cover