Andrea Fortuna

There is a specific kind of Apple keynote moment where a feature gets announced with a straight face and a privacy paper gets published on the same day, as if the second document were meant to pre-empt the first hour of press coverage.

Italian ransomware activity crossed a threshold in early September.

The week’s readings share a quieter, more structural alarm: the chains of trust we build (identity verifiers, home routers, blockchain ledgers, edge appliances, coding platforms) keep turning into the very thing that lets attackers in.

A few years ago, in the middle of an incident I was called into, someone with a business card that said “COO” asked me a question I still think about: “Can you tell me, in the next twenty minutes, whether it’s safe to keep the production line running?”

Autistici/Inventati sits in an uncomfortable part of the internet: the place where privacy is not a setting buried in a menu, but the whole point of the system.

The week split into two warnings that turn out to be the same warning.

If you have spent any time worrying about phone security, you have almost certainly worried about the wrong layer.

There is a particular shade of teal that anyone who touched a Windows NT domain in the late 1990s will recognize on sight, the color of the login background, sitting behind a small gray dialog box that said, in a font already looking dated the day it ship…

The most telling document this week was not a vulnerability write-up but a police usage policy: Wapello County, Iowa instructs its officers, in capital letters, not to mention the license plate readers watching its streets.

I read the story of Brandon Klayme twice, and the second time I found myself doing something I rarely do while reading about a legal case: I opened my own list of old accounts and started deleting things.