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I read. paint. Love to play piano.
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WANT YOUR STIMULUS CHECK FASTER?
Congress needs to change just one line of law
Aaron Klein Monday, July 27, 2020
“One out of 12 Americans spend more than $300 a year on
bank overdraft fees. There are more
payday loan stores in America than McDonald’s restaurants for a reason: People use them and pay a lot to do so.
“ Concerns about faster payments leading to fraud have proven not to be the case in countries like the U.K. that adopted real-time payments more than a decade ago. And in this instance, we are only talking about payments sent by Uncle Sam, who is good for it.”
New MIT Headset Can ‘Hear’ Your Thoughts and Respond
Pocket worthyStories to fuel your mind.
The Woman Who Reinvented the Moon
A MacArthur “genius grant” winner writes a new lunar origin story.
Chloroquine and hydroxychloroquine
Chloroquine (Aralen) and hydroxychloroquine (Plaquenil) have been in the news for off-label use in the treatment of COVID-19. Is it important to know that both may cause tinnitus along with hearing loss and vertigo. The hearing loss from these medications is considered irreversible, with the report of some exceptions.
With several studies showing the lack of benefit of hydroxychloroquine or chloroquine on in-hospital outcomes for COVID-19, the risks far outweigh the benefits of these drugs at this point.
rain, rain, go away —
Plastic rain is the new acid rain
Plastic rain could prove to be a more insidious problem than acid rain.
Matt Simon, wired.com - 6/12/2020, 3:20 PM
For the better part of the last four decades, George F. Will has been at the intellectual center of American conservatism. Now he is calling for a full-blown rout of the Republican Party at the ballot box in November.
While Will has harsh words for Trump — “this low-rent Lear raging on his Twitter-heath has proven that the phrase malignant buffoon is not an oxymoron” — he saves his true condemnation for the members of Congress who have enabled the President.
One of America’s most prominent conservative columnists wants Republicans to lose in 2020
“In life’s unforgiving arithmetic, we are the sum of our choices. Congressional Republicans have made theirs for more than 1,200 days. We cannot know all the measures necessary to restore the nation’s domestic health and international standing, but we know the first step: Senate Republicans must be routed, as condign punishment for their Vichyite collaboration, leaving the Republican remnant to wonder: Was it sensible to sacrifice dignity, such as it ever was, and to shed principles, if convictions so easily jettisoned could be dignified as principles, for … what? Praying people should pray, and all others should hope: May I never crave anything as much as these people crave membership in the world’s most risible deliberative body.”
H1 THE CONFESSIONS OF MARCUS HUTCHINS,THE HACKER WHO SAVED THE INTERNET
H2 At 22, he single-handedly put a stop to the worst cyberattack the world had ever seen. Then he was arrested by the FBI. This is his untold story.
portrait of Marcus Hutchins
Photograph: Ramona Rosales
At around 7 am on a quiet Wednesday in August 2017, Marcus Hutchins walked out the front door of the Airbnb mansion in Las Vegas where he had been partying for the past week and a half. A gangly, 6’4”, 23-year-old hacker with an explosion of blond-brown curls, Hutchins had emerged to retrieve his order of a Big Mac and fries from an Uber Eats deliveryman. But as he stood barefoot on the mansion’s driveway wearing only a T-shirt and jeans, Hutchins noticed a black SUV parked on the street—one that looked very much like an FBI stakeout.
He stared at the vehicle blankly, his mind still hazed from sleep deprivation and stoned from the legalized Nevada weed he’d been smoking all night. For a fleeting moment, he wondered: Is this finally it?
pJune 2020. a hrefhttpssubscribe.wired.comsubscribesplitswiredWIREditHardcodedsourceHCLWIRCOVERINSET0Subscribe to WIREDa.p
But as soon as the thought surfaced, he dismissed it. The FBI would never be so obvious, he told himself. His feet had begun to scald on the griddle of the driveway. So he grabbed the McDonald’s bag and headed back inside, through the mansion’s courtyard, and into the pool house he’d been using as a bedroom. With the specter of the SUV fully exorcised from his mind, he rolled another spliff with the last of his weed, smoked it as he ate his burger, and then packed his bags for the airport, where he was scheduled for a first-class flight home to the UK.
Hutchins was coming off of an epic, exhausting week at Defcon, one of the world’s largest hacker conferences, where he had been celebrated as a hero. Less than three months earlier, Hutchins had saved the internet from what was, at the time, the worst cyberattack in history: a piece of malware called WannaCry. Just as that self-propagating software had begun exploding across the planet, destroying data on hundreds of thousands of computers, it was Hutchins who had found and triggered the secret kill switch contained in its code, neutering WannaCry’s global threat immediately.
This legendary feat of whitehat hacking had essentially earned Hutchins free drinks for life among the Defcon crowd. He and his entourage had been invited to every VIP hacker party on the strip, taken out to dinner by journalists, and accosted by fans seeking selfies. The story, after all, was irresistible: Hutchins was the shy geek who had single-handedly slain a monster threatening the entire digital world, all while sitting in front of a keyboard in a bedroom in his parents’ house in remote western England.
Still reeling from the whirlwind of adulation, Hutchins was in no state to dwell on concerns about the FBI, even after he emerged from the mansion a few hours later and once again saw the same black SUV parked across the street. He hopped into an Uber to the airport, his mind still floating through a cannabis-induced cloud. Court documents would later reveal that the SUV followed him along the way—that law enforcement had, in fact, been tracking his location periodically throughout his time in Vegas.
When Hutchins arrived at the airport and made his way through the security checkpoint, he was surprised when TSA agents told him not to bother taking any of his three laptops out of his backpack before putting it through the scanner. Instead, as they waved him through, he remembers thinking that they seemed to be making a special effort not to delay him.
He wandered leisurely to an airport lounge, grabbed a Coke, and settled into an armchair. He was still hours early for his flight back to the UK, so he killed time posting from his phone to Twitter, writing how excited he was to get back to his job analyzing malware when he got home. “Haven’t touched a debugger in over a month now,” he tweeted. He humblebragged about some very expensive shoes his boss had bought him in Vegas and retweeted a compliment from a fan of his reverse-engineering work.
Hutchins was composing another tweet when he noticed that three men had walked up to him, a burly redhead with a goatee flanked by two others in Customs and Border Protection uniforms. “Are you Marcus Hutchins?” asked the red-haired man. When Hutchins confirmed that he was, the man asked in a neutral tone for Hutchins to come with them, and led him through a door into a private stairwell.
Then they put him in handcuffs.