Teach A man To Phish

My dad was a hacker. He’s retired now but he expects me to carry on the family tradition. Frankly, sometimes I’m scared. I’m not sure I’m up to the challenge. I mean, dad was good. Really good.

Of course, I learned from the best.

Oh, by the way. You can call me Andy. That’s not my name but a guy can’t be too careful nowadays.

Back to my dad. He taught me how to make websites that mimic real important ones. Like banks. I then send emails linking to those websites and URGENTLY request private information from the target FOR HIS OWN SAFETY.

Dad says to email zillions of these, but it’s amazing how much useful information I can get when I email only 10 or so. I mean, how many bank accounts do I need to empty?

Over time, I’m building confidence. I guess I am a pretty good phisherman. And lately, I’ve been pushing the envelope just for fun. You know. Stealing government secrets and selling them to the Chinese. I get paid in Bitcoin so nobody can track my work.

It really irritates me how experts like me are always portrayed as pimply teenagers living in their parents’ basement. I’m living on a private island. I’ve got servants. And my acne is abating. The whole thing is just a scandalous lie.

The only measurement is making money. I’m not stupid. I’ve figured that out. So, some businessmen can get rich by buying and selling securities—bits and bytes that are no more real than what I work with every day. The thing is, I’m better at it than the “big guys.” They control the levers of power, but they’re not too good at covering their tracks. They get caught and exposed. Yeah, they rarely get punished. But I’d be embarrassed if I was as incompetent as they are. I guess they didn’t have smart resourceful dads like I do.

I hate those guys. Fortunately, I’m in a position to get revenge. With just a few keystrokes, I can make a whole bunch of wealthy assholes—the guys that make fun of me—homeless. And I’m working on a way to give them a really nasty skin condition, too.