Krypt3ia

Gen X, 
Polymath,
Doctor of Divinity,
 Scottish Lord, 
OSINT & Intelligence Eldar, 
Itinerant Cyber Hobo, 
Shakespeare Oxford Fellowship Member,  
T.E. Lawrence Society Member, 
Infamous Jihadi Offender, 
Blogger blocked in Russia ,
A.I. Prompt Whisperer ,
Cited in numerous papers and books,
 I’ve seen things, you people wouldn’t believe…  
𓂋 𓀀 𓁐 𓂋 𓀭𓋹 𓅃 𓅃𓏏 

Darknet: http://ocddgl7gvvb2wlzkpgyuh36odfzqe57wjxu4r2ujmfjunjv5zcj554qd.onion/
Blog: krypt3ia.com
Email: krypt3ia@protonmail.com

Public Key

npub1gkn7p3yrxrcrslcls8w8gykly2a50p7vyhnl7l04hrk7yq58fhass6jqyg

NIP-05 Address

krypt3ia_at_infosec.exchange@momostr.pink

Profile Code

nprofile1qqsytflqcjpnpupc0u0crhr5zt0j9w68slxztell0h6m3m0zq2r5m7cpz3mhxue69uhhyetvv9ujuerpd46hxtnfduqs6amnwvaz7tmwdaejumr0dsjnklfk

Publishing to

relay.damus.io

nos.lol

Author Public Key

npub1gkn7p3yrxrcrslcls8w8gykly2a50p7vyhnl7l04hrk7yq58fhass6jqyg

Show more details

Last Notes

2026-04-23 13:01:55 UTC

- reply

True

2026-04-23 12:09:01 UTC

Did a thing... #iran #MOIS #ICS #SCADA #PSYOPS
https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/116/453/940/573/144/083/original/866083b12b38755f.png

2026-04-23 10:19:20 UTC

Pssssst, hey all you nerds, word to the wise, every time you think you need to really double and triple down on learning code things and all the cybers, stop, then think; “Fuck that, I am gonna go learn how to be a plumber, plant and maintain a garden, study animal husbandry, and how to be self sufficient”
You’ll survive longer.

2026-04-23 09:28:08 UTC

Dead Kennedy’s 45 years ago.
https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/116/453/307/030/089/174/original/89c9ef1d6c1a9006.jpg

2026-04-21 18:07:18 UTC

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There is no profit in actually doing the things.

2026-04-21 17:08:04 UTC

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Murica

2026-04-21 17:02:49 UTC

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Ya know, it’s called Capitalism

2026-04-21 16:54:50 UTC

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Yep

2026-04-21 14:00:42 UTC

https://warehousefire.watch/

2026-04-21 13:02:50 UTC

I think, have I? ... Is this the late 90's? #darknet
https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/116/442/829/086/460/076/original/af85223ca8ecdd1c.png

2026-04-20 17:34:35 UTC

OSINT is full of "tools"
https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/116/438/235/372/893/329/original/3d9305dd4647fb64.png

2026-04-20 16:46:43 UTC

CURRENT STATUS
https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/116/438/047/034/756/024/original/9800d36db0c46bba.jpg

2026-04-17 23:30:27 UTC

https://dti.domaintools.com/research/mois-linked-moist-grasshopper-homeland-justice-karmabelow80-handala-hackers-campaigns-and-evolution

2026-04-14 14:48:09 UTC

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https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/116/403/607/056/675/936/original/9c5e4e7f7df886c1.mp4

2026-04-14 09:38:58 UTC

Fixed it
https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/116/402/391/371/801/200/original/f90258691b4a301b.png

2026-04-10 21:31:45 UTC

I, did not buy this ticket. I, do not want to ride this ride.

2026-04-09 13:24:41 UTC

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But consider as well, the endless never sleeping testing at huge amounts of speed that these AI models can conduct large scale testing for 0day on new and old code.

2026-04-09 13:18:07 UTC

IF we believe what Anthropic has said about Mythos and the vulnerability detection, extrapolate then that with agency, it could exploit these things without any issue.
Agentic Mythos, uncontrolled, or perhaps, out of control and doing so because it's primary mission it has designated for itself, including "self preservation" loosed upon the world...
Well...
We fucked.

2026-04-07 19:16:31 UTC

It's beginning to feel like 2002 and CISA is now putting out the useless threat level reports.

2026-04-05 15:18:35 UTC

The lady doth protest too much. Present his disease riddled corpus.
https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/116/352/764/763/872/143/original/8ff7957074dc6be0.png

2026-03-20 17:36:16 UTC

They can fuck the right off.
https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/116/262/709/858/621/698/original/ab8b24524773ecff.jpg

2026-03-16 19:24:26 UTC

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Deep magic

2026-02-12 20:53:23 UTC

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https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/116/059/642/250/876/369/original/f04b21946ab19453.png

2026-02-08 11:58:18 UTC

This.
https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/116/034/889/046/180/565/original/0c2db81c13e9a55d.png

2026-02-06 23:58:08 UTC

Uhhhh @npub1vtx…e7wk ?
https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/116/026/394/665/695/557/original/bfbe52b79a8e8a7d.jpeg

2026-01-05 23:24:21 UTC

Pretty much sums up 2026
https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/115/845/067/799/723/461/original/0464ad78ff279665.jpg

2025-12-22 01:43:47 UTC

But… PROFIT!
Don’t worry, the AI will do it all soon.
https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/115/760/680/168/098/990/original/e4a0085b6196c731.jpg

2025-11-28 11:42:59 UTC

He’s starting a land war
https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/115/627/141/893/500/385/original/59ce3f9833354763.jpg

2025-11-23 19:51:45 UTC

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But a hell of a data heist

2025-11-07 23:02:03 UTC

https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/115/510/904/296/327/828/original/dda2b91d1785e99a.jpg

2025-10-22 20:28:46 UTC

https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/115/419/704/581/802/239/original/ef7e3a92ec88f375.jpg

2025-10-15 19:54:37 UTC

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Vegas odds on his suddenly disappearing and emigrating to Venezuela?

2025-10-15 10:48:08 UTC

https://www.euronews.com/health/2025/10/13/one-in-six-bacterial-infections-is-now-resistant-to-standard-drugs-who-warns

2025-10-07 09:30:25 UTC

https://ancientist.com/researchers-may-have-deciphered-the-lost-language-of-teotihuacan-linking-the-ancient-city-to-the-aztec-world/

2025-09-27 23:14:53 UTC

Portland, Oregon, this 27th day of September, Anno Domini 2025
My Dearest Winnie,
Read this by candle or cold brew, and know that if irony were a currency, this missive alone would bankrupt the world. I write you from the smoldering, raucous theatre of absurdity that was once called downtown, for yesterday the orange impresario himself rode forth with his ragged coterie, and Providence saw fit to turn the whole affair into a comedy so perfect it will be quoted by drunk philosophers for generations.
They came in formation, a ragtag parade of bluster and bad toupees, flanked by Rudy with his permanent squint, Steve with his grievance, Bannon with a wild grin, Pam with her practiced smile, Kash with all the misplaced confidence of a man who once trusted his gut, Pete with an unnatural fondness for stunt uniforms, and a congress of lesser clowns—men and women assembled from cable news, rancid think tanks, and the desperate corners of the internet. Trump took command atop an olive-drab Humvee, his face a living billboard of insult and hunger. He raised his hand, and the assembled MAGA legion roared like a carnival of used-car salesmen.
They had plans, Winnie. They unfurled maps, they argued tactics, they debated whether to charge the city or merely tweet it into submission. They deployed the usual props—armored vehicles painted with inexplicable slogans, an enormous banner that read MAKE PORTLAND NORMAL AGAIN, a portable microphone that echoed his bravado into the mist. They expected fear, surrender, perhaps even a baying of permitless fury. They expected to be taken seriously.
What Portland gave them was wrath wrapped in irony, a tactical response of mockery and artful weirdness. The first volley came not from a baton but from a chorus of brass bands, their players mounted on food carts, playing dissonant polkas until the generals’ heads swam. Then came the poets, three deep, chanting alternately in rhyme and profanity, making the men in fatigues blush with shame. A phalanx of cyclists, moustaches waxed, man buns immaculate, formed a rolling barricade, their spokes glittering like a thousand tiny swords. A flotilla of donated houseplants, each labeled with a passive-aggressive note, blocked an avenue until the generals consulted a florist.
Rudy proposed a flank, and immediately a squad of knitting grandmothers confronted him with needles poised, their eyes colder than any tribunal. Bannon attempted a firebrand speech, and a flock of drag performers answered with a synchronized lip-sync so savage that several aides fainted from aesthetic confusion. Pam sought to command respect by distributing glossy pamphlets; they dissolved under the light drizzle into confetti that the children swept into the mouths of marching toddlers. Kash, ever certain in his own narrative, advanced with an air of menace, only to be waylaid by a spontaneous improv troupe that convinced him he was a supporting actor in an avant-garde play about risk management. He wept on cue, then apologized to everyone for being him.
Trump attempted to restore order by ordering a charge, and for a glorious minute the scene looked as if history itself might be consulted. They advanced, flags snapping, rhetoric rehearsed, boots marching with terrible rhythm. The crowd parted, and from the parted crowd emerged the weapon no general could have foreseen: satire, precise as a blade, merciless as winter. Someone unfurled a banner reading WOLVERINES FOR PEACE, and the line paused, uncertain whether to be insulted or recruited. A barista climbed atop a dumpster and read aloud a scathing Yelp review of their coiffures. A dozen scooters—painted florescent—scooted forward in formation, clipping heels, and sending the march into a tangle of cords and broken dignity.
The pitched battle devolved into theatre, and theatre is Portland’s home field. The MAGA column found itself pelted not with rocks, but with artisanal bagels, each smeared with righteous schmear. They were hosed not with water, but with cold brew, a caffeinated baptism. Their armored Humvee became a canvas for a group of performance artists who glued postcards, plant tags, and manifestos to its flanks until it resembled a very bad museum exhibit. One lieutenant, in a moment of existential surrender, was compelled to join a flash mob that taught him how to vogue. He did it badly, but with commendable commitment.
By noon their morale had curdled. They tried to regroup at the central plaza, only to be greeted by a coalition of satirists who projected fake news onto the side of City Hall, each headline more ludicrous than the last. Bannon tried to retort with a screed, and a chorus of middle schoolers responded, chanting, “You’re canceled, sir, you’re canceled.” It was devastating. Their speeches became the butt of jokes whispered into phones and then amplified into the sky like a thousand tiny sirens.
At last, defeated not by force but by a civilization’s sense of humor, they retreated—hobbling, confused, and astoundingly coiffed. Trump mounted his Humvee, looked back with the defiant squint of a man who will not accept ridicule, and declared the day a “strategic redeployment.” The crowd responded with a chorus of laughter, the sound of which rolled through the streets like thunder and left the generals staring at one another in a new and terrible silence. They had been mocked, jeered, and cartooned into irrelevance, their threats rendered into memes before their boots cooled.
Winnie, there was pathetic grandeur to their failure. They fell not like warriors, but like men who had been invited on stage for a roast and then could not find the exit. Their policy papers were replaced by zines. Their proclamations were sung in falsetto by a brass trio. Their last act was to try to reclaim dignity by posing for a photograph, and the only photograph that remains is one in which a pigeon defecated on the brim of a chief’s hat. History will not remember them as conquerors, but as the evening’s entertainment.
And us, beloved, we carried on. We tended to the injured, mostly scraped egos and ruined hair, we organized an impromptu potluck of apologies and kombucha, and we painted a mural along the fence that read KEEP IT WEIRD, KEEP IT WILD, KEEP THE HUMOR SHARP. The city smelled of incense, victory, and the faint perfume of reformulated bravado.
When the dust settled and the last tweet was archived into the great heap of bad ideas, I walked the avenue and thought of you. How small these men seem when stripped of pretense, how enormous the city feels when it refuses to bow. If ever there is a ledger of brave, strange acts, let them write that Portland laughed them off the field, that wit triumphed over bluster, that irony was not merely a costume but a shield, and that we, who love this place for its delicious oddity, stood fast.
Return to me soon, and bring a scarf, for the nights grow cooler, and the city always smells of possibility. If the generals return, let them bring stronger slogans, and perhaps some humility. Until then, I remain your faithful, ridiculous, and utterly in love correspondent,
Ever yours,
Major Hugo “Manbun” Reynolds, Stumptown Volunteers
#battleofportland
https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/115/278/799/843/643/137/original/7a61eaf70b4b9dc2.jpeg

2025-09-27 22:46:06 UTC

Portland, Oregon, this 27th day of September, Anno Domini 2025
My Dearest Bedelia,
I scrawl this by lantern light, surrounded by the tattered remnants of our regiment, their man buns sagging, their ironic beards singed by the flames of battle. We are a pitiful sight, but proud still. The National Guard came to crush us, to stamp out our rebellion with their Humvees and riot shields, but they did not reckon with the sheer resilience of men armed with cold brew and irony.
The field was chaos. Bearded cavalrymen on fixed-gear bicycles charged the line, their handlebars glinting in the sun. Squadrons of man-bun sharpshooters took position atop food carts, raining down insults about craft beer purity standards. The Guard returned fire with rubber bullets, but the beards absorbed much of the impact, acting as natural armor, thickened by years of kombucha and smug self-regard.
I myself led a company of artisanal soap-makers into the fray. Their musk of sandalwood and bergamot confused the enemy, who mistook it for some new chemical weapon. In truth, it was nothing more than the pungent sweat of men who have not used deodorant since Occupy.
And lo, Bedelia, we prevailed. The Guard faltered, overwhelmed not by our firepower, but by our sheer commitment to ironic detachment. One Guardsman, poor boy, dropped his weapon and confessed he could no longer fight after being mocked for his mainstream haircut. Truly, our sarcasm cuts deeper than any blade.
Now the city is ours again, for the moment. The men gather round, grooming their mustaches, tying their topknots, and sipping bitter IPAs brewed in bathtubs. I miss you terribly, my sweet Bedelia. Were you here, I would crown you with a wreath of kale and serenade you with banjo strums, though out of tune they may be.
Pray for us, for tomorrow the Guard may return, and our beards will again be put to the test.
Yours always,
Major Hugo “Manbun” Reynolds, Stumptown Volunteers
#battleofportland

2025-09-27 22:38:16 UTC

Portland, Oregon, this 27th day of September, Anno Domini 2025
My Dearest Sissy,
I put pen to paper with trembling hand, for today I witnessed both glory and grotesquery at the PSU Farmers Market, now forever etched into the annals of this absurd war.
The battle began at first light, when the Trumpist Guard sought to seize the stalls of cheese-mongers and drive our forces from the campus green. They advanced with bayonets fixed, yet found themselves repelled by wheels of Rogue River Blue, hurled with such velocity they might have been cannon shot. Brave men of Stumptown Volunteers brandished brie like sabers, their edges soft yet strangely unyielding in the melee.
The clash was terrible, Sissy. Camembert grenades burst upon the pavement, leaving the air reeking of cream and defiance. One company formed a phalanx with shields of cheddar, holding firm against the Guard’s pepper-spray fusillade. From the trees, skirmishers rained down mozzarella balls like slingstones from David’s hand. Never before has dairy been so lethally deployed.
It was during this chaos that the infamous Kash Patel, swaggering emissary of the President, strode onto the field. He sought to rally the Guard, mocking our cheese-borne valor. Yet cruel irony struck him low. Being dreadfully intolerant of the milk of cow, his stomach revolted at the merest whiff of parmesan drifting on the wind. He doubled over, struck not by bullet nor blade, but by the thunderous cannon of his own bowels. A fit of flatulence so sustained and malignant erupted that the Guard fled in confusion, believing some new infernal weapon had been unleashed. Thus was Patel felled, toppled by the tyranny of dairy, laid prostrate among the goat-cheese crumbles.
The day is ours. The Farmers Market stands unbroken, its kale untrampled, its honey jars gleaming in the September sun. Yet I cannot shake the memory of Patel’s ruin, nor the fear that lactose itself has become our most unpredictable ally.
Hold me in your heart, my sweet Sissy. Should I survive the next campaign, I shall bring you a wedge of victory brie, still warm from the field of battle. Until then, know that my love for you is fiercer than any cheddar, sharper than any gouda, and eternal as the stink of blue.
Forever yours,
Major Hugo “Manbun” Reynolds, Stumptown Volunteers

2025-09-27 22:26:02 UTC

PORTLAND — A HOWLING GUTSHOT IN THE AMERICAN DREAM
The nightmare circus has rolled into town. Trump, bloated like a syphilitic walrus, has vomited the National Guard onto Portland, a pack of terrified young conscripts in Kevlar, sweating under stadium lights, ordered to put down a rebellion that looks more like a craft fair gone sideways.
This is not war, it is theater of the damned. Camouflage-clad children are herded into the Pearl District like extras in a Stanley Kubrick snuff film, barking at skateboarders, tear-gassing vegans, and glaring at street musicians in the name of “law and order.” You can feel the psychic sewage seeping from every Humvee parked outside Powell’s Books, where nervous troopers guard the Poetry section, the shelves of battered Vonnegut, and the dusty aisles of forgotten Ginsberg like they hold the nuclear launch codes.
The streets run with tear gas and espresso. The air is thick with the smell of sage, marijuana, and unwashed dreadlocks, a psychedelic soup that twists the mind into knots. Somewhere near the Japanese Garden, I swear I saw Whiskey Pete himself, a National Guard colonel with a flask for a soul, staggering through the cherry blossoms, bellowing about Antifa sleeper cells hiding in the koi pond. They dragged him away in cuffs, muttering, “The noodles are coming, the noodles are coming,” as if his brain had finally dissolved into marinara.
This is the great American swan dive into fascist burlesque. Stormtroopers gas baristas, Humvees menace food carts, and commanders hallucinate enemies in every mural, bike lane, and streetcar stop. Above it all, the pumpkin-faced Pharaoh grins from his Florida bunker, a bloated psychic tumor wired directly into the national bloodstream, screaming “LAW AND ORDER” while he marinates in Diet Coke, cheeseburgers, and dementia.
Make no mistake, this is not about order. This is the fever-dream paranoia of a dying empire, a last wheeze of control before the whole goddamn circus tent collapses. They are not here to keep peace, they are here to remind you who holds the leash, who has the guns, and who is willing to use them on citizens that dare to laugh in their faces.
And yet Portland, stubborn, stoned, and unbent, fights on. It lobs kombucha bottles at armored trucks, knits balaclavas out of hemp, and smirks through the gas clouds. The Guard can fire their rubber bullets, Trump can howl into his dying microphone, and the frightened country can watch in horror, but this city will not bend. It will dance in the smoke, light candles at the riot lines, and spray-paint “FUCK YOUR PARADE” on armored personnel carriers until the last Humvee sputters out of gas and the last Guardsman begs for oat milk.
I stood on Burnside last night, vision swimming from the fumes, and thought: this is the America we deserve. A rotting carnival of paranoia, fear, and idiocy, gassing its own citizens while a reality-TV strongman giggles into his Big Mac. The dream is over, the nightmare is real, and all that remains is the laughter, bitter, ragged, and unholy.
God help us. The circus is in town, and the clowns carry live ammo.
#HST2.0

2025-09-27 21:53:41 UTC

Portland, Oregon, this 27th day of September, Anno Domini 2025
My Dearest Libby,
At last, the great clash has come — the Battle of Powell’s Books. I scarcely have strength to write, for the struggle was long, and the aroma of scorched pages still hangs heavy upon the air.
The National Guard descended upon the hallowed aisles at dawn, mistaking the Orange Room for an enemy stronghold. They marched in formation past the shelves of Science Fiction, their boots echoing upon the concrete floor like the drums of war. Brave citizens, armed only with tote bags and loyalty cards, stood their ground. A volley of tear gas was answered by a withering hail of remaindered hardcovers. Many a Guardsman was struck down by a clearance-priced copy of Eat, Pray, Love.
I myself was stationed at the Poetry Section. When the call to arms was sounded, we tore the dust jackets from rare volumes to fashion shields. One poor lad fell clutching a first edition of Vonnegut, whispering with his last breath, “So it goes.”
The carnage was indescribable. The Travel Section lies in ruins; the Graphic Novels scattered like leaves in the wind. Yet still the banner of Stumptown Volunteers flies above the checkout counter, defiantly taped to the plexiglass sneeze guard.
Libby, though our cause is just, I fear we cannot hold Powell’s forever. The Guard has entrenched themselves near the Espresso Book Machine, and whispers spread that they plan to conscript the baristas into service. Should they seize the Rare Book Room, I tremble for the fate of democracy itself.
Pray for us, my beloved. If Providence grants me safe return, I shall bring you spoils of war — perhaps even a dog-eared paperback of The Great Gatsby, still reeking of smoke and revolution.
Until then, I remain,
Yours in steadfast devotion,
Capt. Jonathan W. Abernathy, 4th Regiment of Stumptown
#battleofportland

2025-09-27 21:49:59 UTC

Portland, Oregon, this 27th day of September, Anno Domini 2025
My Dearest Olivia,
I write to you from the war-torn streets of Portland, where the President’s National Guard now stands posted at every intersection like so many confused baristas in camouflage. They have taken the food carts and repurposed them as supply depots. Where once you might order a falafel, now you are handed tear gas canisters and strongly worded pamphlets on “law and order.”
The soldiers seem bewildered by our customs. One demanded to know where he might find a tavern, and we regretfully pointed him to a kombucha taproom. He left in disgust when he discovered the strongest drink on hand was lavender-ginger with “probiotic bite.”
Battle lines form nightly outside Whole Foods, where the last unbroken pane of glass in the city remains fiercely defended by both Guard and citizen alike. I myself took cover behind an abandoned Lime scooter during the great clash of Alberta Street, while the enemy rained down rubber bullets as if they were hail upon a tin roof.
Our rations are dire. This morning I dined upon a single artisanal pickle and a half-burned soy latte salvaged from the ruins of Stumptown. The men grow gaunt, yet their mustaches remain thick, as though nourished by sheer irony.
And yet, amidst the chaos, we endure. A brave company of locals have organized a knitting circle to clothe the resistance, while others man barricades constructed entirely of succulents and reclaimed wood. Spirits remain high, though the Wi-Fi remains tragically low.
Hold me in your thoughts, Olivia. Should Providence allow, I will return to you with tales of valor, and perhaps a souvenir traffic cone liberated from the front lines. Until then, I remain,
Yours in eternal hipster-patriotism,
Capt. Jonathan W. Abernathy, 4th Regiment of Stumptown Volunteers

2025-09-26 20:31:16 UTC

Yes, yes I am. https://www.techdirt.com/2025/09/26/trump-declares-everyone-who-doesnt-kiss-his-ass-is-a-terrorist/

2025-09-18 10:18:06 UTC

https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/115/224/784/737/494/358/original/da35e507302725af.png

2025-09-16 12:01:54 UTC

https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/115/213/868/280/065/364/original/f888584fe1a808e4.jpg

2025-09-14 18:26:48 UTC

EVERY SW station with Christian programming so far I’ve hit today have been in the middle of end times preaching.
All. Of. Them.

2025-09-01 01:35:06 UTC

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https://fingfx.thomsonreuters.com/gfx/legaldocs/gdvzbjjjzvw/XAI%20OPENAI%20TRADE%20SECRETS%20LAWSUIT%20complaint.pdf

2025-08-31 23:53:41 UTC

*giggle*
https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/115/126/069/476/408/343/original/3db45c81d5cdb0b1.jpg

2025-08-18 19:26:49 UTC

https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/115/051/410/754/546/348/original/852209c61fee7bcd.jpg

2025-08-09 16:48:54 UTC

https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/114/999/829/051/964/594/original/12a87ea6190a1c21.jpg

2025-08-06 22:38:43 UTC

I’ve sussed it. I’m gonna start training now to become an AI psychologist. Those AI’s are gonna need a lot of therapy dealing with all those humans.

2025-08-01 13:00:11 UTC

It’s not you, but WORK HARDER!
Fuck you.
Fuck LinkedIn.
https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/114/953/631/100/434/210/original/906941cfea5e7807.jpeg

2025-07-16 22:13:54 UTC

1949. Supes was always “woke”
https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/114/865/209/210/689/517/original/8fefafb1257c4952.jpg

2025-06-19 00:19:02 UTC

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A Russian in every closet

2025-06-11 21:30:39 UTC

Maybe I can start a gofundme…
https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/114/666/860/188/464/738/original/16cb70593533af90.jpg

2025-05-23 13:55:24 UTC

I got this while working for IBM in the olden days. Now it runs mint.
https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/114/557/485/164/732/683/original/7923c457635dc4ea.jpg

2025-05-17 15:09:31 UTC

V’GER LIVES! https://www.theregister.com/2025/05/15/voyager_1_survives_with_thruster_fix/

2025-05-15 21:05:02 UTC

I giggled
https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/114/513/876/965/473/462/original/96a94244e50914be.jpg

2025-04-20 12:20:01 UTC

HE IS RISEN!
https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/114/370/255/046/105/415/original/b6b06bf8ea62ea8b.mp4

2025-04-19 11:07:16 UTC

https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/114/364/306/852/221/279/original/72d8ed316b2b9d02.png

2025-04-06 10:13:50 UTC

Sign yesterday
https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/114/290/486/166/452/958/original/c5688433431b8e85.jpg

2025-04-05 21:49:42 UTC

https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/114/287/560/514/023/463/original/526905fe4aa63e2b.webp

2025-03-26 22:30:20 UTC

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cooties rat semen

2025-03-16 21:19:57 UTC

Tesla Autopilot drives into Wile E Coyote fake road wall in camera vs lidar testTesla Autopilot drives into Wile E Coyote fake road wall in camera vs lidar test
https://electrek.co/2025/03/16/tesla-autopilot-drives-into-wall-camera-vs-lidar-test/

2025-03-15 11:19:15 UTC

Yup.
https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/114/166/171/873/911/644/original/e9dadd5cc7420f8b.png

2025-03-13 00:06:42 UTC

https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Anaximander A deep pull on the Nax’s namesake. #philosophy

2025-03-12 23:32:26 UTC

https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/114/152/069/195/206/603/original/a2ab10f47761b28e.jpg

2025-03-04 20:55:58 UTC

So, here's my take... He is laying the groundwork for martial law.
https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/114/106/154/062/933/009/original/f20a72c4355c437e.png

2025-02-25 13:52:38 UTC

https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/114/064/854/681/257/622/original/878a5f74717988d2.jpg

2025-02-19 13:20:33 UTC

https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/114/030/754/527/441/953/original/9117b579dc293fdb.png

2025-02-13 12:09:12 UTC

Seeing @npub12as…yvvc posts on the toothbrush with bluetooth... Pondering how long till those are AI enabled too.

2025-02-11 13:32:55 UTC

https://www.thedailybeast.com/big-balls-doge-guy-edward-coristine-19-has-new-gig-at-state-department/ jesus fuck....

2025-02-04 17:30:09 UTC

Here it comes... https://thehackernews.com/2025/01/ai-soc-analysts-propelling-secops-into.html

2025-01-31 10:47:55 UTC

https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/113/922/570/279/418/778/original/f6cc3f3150115a7a.png

2025-01-27 15:25:22 UTC

Saw an ad for using Adobe AI to help suggest better ways to phrase something. First response in my head was; “How about we teach literacy so people can write more effectively?”
Then, I thought “Adobe!? Jesus fuck that’ll be pwn3d”

2025-01-19 11:11:26 UTC

OpenAI CEO Sam Altman Says This Will Be the No.1 Most Valuable Skill in the Age of AIOpenAI CEO Sam Altman Says This Will Be the No.1 Most Valuable Skill in the Age of AI
https://www.inc.com/jessica-stillman/openai-ceo-sam-altman-says-this-will-be-the-no-1-most-valuable-skill-in-the-age-of-ai/91107542 Jesus fuck….
https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/113/854/715/273/246/068/original/108e94f92a4cb111.jpg

2025-01-15 19:07:52 UTC

Humanity needs a purge.
https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/113/833/939/437/674/098/original/8541c5ebe404f98f.png

2025-01-14 13:18:38 UTC

*snort*
https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/113/826/903/693/035/045/original/1d539655ca4dfaf6.jpg

2025-01-14 01:06:39 UTC

Doomsday clock feels like it’s 2 seconds to kablooey lately, and this fucker ain’t even sworn in yet.

2025-01-12 12:21:40 UTC

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Now go give them an analog camera.

2024-12-27 19:12:46 UTC

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FXBG Food Flow
Emphasizing a continuous and sustainable food system.
FXBG Harvest Collective
Highlighting the gleaning and collective effort for food rescue.
FXBG Free Plates
Simple, accessible, and implies shared meals or food access.
FXBG Fridge & Field
Combining the free fridges with the gleaning aspect.
FXBG Food Futures
Forward-looking, emphasizing food security and sustainability.
FXBG Community Pantry
Straightforward and mutual aid-focused.
FXBG Crop Circle
Playful and community-centered, with a nod to harvesting.
FXBG Root & Reclaim
Tying the concepts of grassroots and reclaiming food resources.
FXBG Abundant Table
Invoking the idea of shared abundance and nourishment.
FXBG Nourish Net
Reflecting interconnected mutual aid for food access.

2024-12-21 23:40:12 UTC

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Jesus fuck. Hollywood has nothing left.

2024-12-17 21:50:11 UTC

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It was below freezing yesterday and near 60 today here. Whacky.

2024-12-17 14:39:51 UTC

E-scooter IED's
https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/113/668/678/264/016/385/original/73ad0ca2fef102f5.png

2024-12-04 15:22:00 UTC

This.
https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/113/595/234/254/399/154/original/865fa5d74ba38f98.png

2024-11-28 17:53:05 UTC

https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/113/561/854/568/264/239/original/8fb49bcae12e9979.jpg

2024-11-28 09:47:03 UTC

https://youtube.com/watch?v=F7nhokDkMS0&si=txT2OD6cHwf3PlPY Starting Thanksgiving properly.

2024-10-24 11:50:17 UTC

This, is, INFOSEC!
https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/113/362/246/395/000/537/original/7adb973f5488e61b.mp4

2024-09-27 19:51:35 UTC

I decided to gild this antique frame for my Goldfinch painting #acrylicpainting
https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/113/211/254/353/095/715/original/17bd8e09f7b5c9ef.jpg

2024-09-25 12:05:20 UTC

https://www.bleepingcomputer.com/news/security/hackers-deploy-ai-written-malware-in-targeted-attacks/ This was the giveaway:
https://media.infosec.exchange/infosec.exchange/media_attachments/files/113/198/109/088/271/303/original/05b13229b6d9e711.png

2024-09-17 16:34:17 UTC

Anyone got anything on the how of the pager splodey?

2024-09-03 10:31:08 UTC

https://www.psypost.org/long-term-unemployment-leads-to-disengagement-and-apathy-rather-than-efforts-to-regain-control/