Remember Yevgeniy Nikulin, the Russian hacker involved in a tug-of-war between the Washington and Moscow?

This is reposted. Nikulin is supposed to be in court in Prague on Tuesday. Will this hit the American Press?

We wrote about him last February, and wondered why the only articles we could find were in La Reppublica (Italy) and The Guardian (UK). He finally made it to the mainstream media in the US this week. That link is to Newsweek, and it’s also on the websites of Reuters and the Daily Mail. It’s not the New York Times or the Washington Post, but it’s a start.

His trial was supposed to take place this week in Prague, where the Czechs are trying to decide which country to extradite him to: the one where he allegedly stole a few thousand dollars online (Russia) or the one where he is accused of the massive hacks of LinkedIn and Dropbox. Nikulin is claiming that the FBI was willing to let him off the hook if he confessed to hacking the DNC and Hillary Clinton. While I maintain a healthy skepticism of government, this seems pretty unlikely. It also seems a little strange that Russia is going to the mat over a mere petty criminal. Deals do get made, criminals are let off the hook, but what upside is there for the FBI in giving this guy immunity after Twittler had already won the election? My mind can run rampant with all sorts of theories, but I’m wondering how it would sit with LinkedIn and Dropbox if Nikulin got off scot-free, in addition to being set up with life in the US. And that doesn’t even touch how angry half of us would be if he turned out to be one of the DNC hackers and was then rewarded for it, especially by a president who would not want this information public (and nothing stays secret for long in the White ~~Sieve~~ House).

May 27, 2017 0

Little Things

My son had baseball practice yesterday. Tuesdays are days when he’s scheduled to be at his mom’s, so I don’t usually plan to hear from him or his sister on those days. However, late in the afternoon, I get an unexpected phone call: “Dad? Can you come pick me up from baseball practice?” I have two choices: say no, it’s your mother’s problem, pick him up anyway and register a complaint with the former wife; or I can just say “Of course,” which is what I did.

Since I get to be the hero of my own stories every once in while, I will add that if the shoe were on the other foot, I’d hear no end of the recriminations for having neglected my parental duties without so much as a text message. I try not to think about that, to shove these thoughts out of my mind. The former is never going to change, and if the past 5 years are any proof (as if I needed some), the bitterness and the recriminations will not stop until the kids are out of college. Even then, I’ll probably get the occasional text starting Hey Asshole, because yes, the mother of my children has no problem addressing me like that.

But I’m not playing those games. I get the call, I go. I’m glad he’s called me. Thrilled. Another chance to see one of my children when it wasn’t expected.

He gets in the car, and I ask, What’s the best way to celebrate the return of warm weather? I know he knows the answer: ice cream, of course.

Off we go. We make our way through the horrible early evening traffic that this suburb has.(Framingham! All the inconveniences of a city with none of the benefits!) I’m not in a hurry, though. I’m glad just to be passing the time with my son. In two years, he’ll be gone, off to college, off to wherever, and then three more years until the daughter leaves.

What then?

We go get the ice cream. I order a small, he orders a medium. We get cones, because even though it’s hot outside, we’re willing to risk the melting for the added pleasure of having the cone. They give me a safety cone, which is not what I wanted, but I don’t care. My small comes, and it looks like two scoops. Two big scoops.

I’ll eat the whole thing anyway. We sit down on the steps outside, and start talking. We’ll mostly talk about baseball, or whatever. I had pretty much given up on baseball after the strike of 1994, but having a son changed all of that. My son’s not the kind of teenager who will talk about himself. He doesn’t like reading (though when he was little I read him chapter books, and he couldn’t wait for the next night’s story), so we can’t talk about books. He might ask for an update on the current turmoil, but that’s pretty rare. But baseball is good enough. We find things to agree and disagree on, and there are still a few–very few–things I know that he doesn’t (like what it is to have your town’s team lose for decades on end).

So here I am, enjoying an unexpected half-hour with my son, eating an unexpected ice cream cone on the first nice, summery day in what seems a long time. He’ll have to go back to his mom’s, but we’re not rushing. We eat the cones and then continue to just sit. I could be in Peru, or Italy, or who knows where else, but I’m in Framingham, and at least for the moment, it’s just fine.

May 17, 2017 2

Washington is Burning

and Der GropenFührer wants you to think that he built the fire for making s’mores. Get your marshmallows ready!

It’s all too much. Everything is getting crazier by the minute.

Meanwhile, in the news you may have missed:

The first US soldier killed this year in Afghanistan was buried.