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This FAQ in the form of a living document, being updated once in a while covers some questions I've been asked after talking about Java deserialization vulnerabilities at conferences during the last months.
After the major rise in awareness in , the well-known topic of remote code execution RCE during deserialization of untrusted Java data has received many new aspects and facets, as new research was performed.
Consequently this deepened research led to new findings gadgets, endpoints, protection attempts, bypass techniques, etc. As this fast-paced development in the last months might have left some peoples' questions unanswered, I try to shed some more light on this by providing some sort of FAQ - mainly focussed at developers.
This blog post covers my talks about Security DevOps in general and a maturity model to define steps in reaching more automation of certain security checks.
The main idea is to define a roadmap of how projects can reach a level of automation preferably with OpenSource tools to check for certain security aspects during the CI Continuous Integration build chain.
I had the chance to present best practices of how OpenSource tools used in the DevOps and security communities can be properly chained together to form a framework that can - as part of an agile software development CI chain - perform automated checking of certain security aspects.
This does not remove the requirement for manual pentests, but tries to automate early security feedback to developers.
My talk introduced a SecDevOps Maturity Model SDOMM of different stages of automated security testing and presented concrete examples of how to achieve each stage with open source security tools.
I reported the Chrome vulnerability to Google's security team in and they did a very good job at fixing it in Chrome's M36 release.
At around Q4 the bug ticket was opened to public, so that I'm allowed to publish this writeup as soon as I find time to write Basically all kinds of SOP bypasses are rather critical, since they completely lift one of the important protection mechanisms in browsers the SOP against malicious websites doing nasty stuff while we're surfing.
But this rather hidden and not so easy to find one only allowed the attacker to successfully exfiltrate images from other sites - not the site's textual content.
The problem? Every one of these examples features a person staking out an upstanding, moral position and paying a price for it.
If you think you can sate the mob, think again — the more you feed the Scylla and Charbidis of outrage and piety, the hungrier they get.
As the helicopter crash that tragically killed basketball star Kobe Bryant and eight others on Sunday still smoldered, a Washington Post reporter tweeted a story pertaining to the sexual assault lawsuit Bryant had settled in By all accounts, Bryant had turned his life around and became a dedicated husband and father, devout Catholic, and successful businessman.
But to some, none of this mattered — no matter how much he good he did in the ensuing years, he would always be known primarily for the worst thing he ever did.
Whether Republican or Democrat, the purity police is coming for you. Your good deeds cannot purchase you a place in the good graces of the moral gatekeepers — that is solely their bailiwick.
And the consequence to our culture will be obvious: Nobody will miss the opportunity to do nothing. A Chicago band fronted by erstwhile lovers, Dehd is perfectly melodic, stripped down guitar rock.
The spareness of the sound pulls the hooks to the front where they belong. Was front row at one of her bigger shows at SXSW — loud and uncompromising, yet catchy and hook-laden.
I listened to this song more than any other this year. Sensational Irish punk — in this video, take note of the guy in the plaid shirt wearing a backpack in the second row on the left hand side of the stage.
For it is me. In fact, I became more confident in what I was writing the further I got into it. Yet without an agent and a publisher, it will remain destined for release straight to PDF.
The only publishing company currently able to produce it will be the prestigious bubble jet printer in my office. Which, honestly, is pretty exclusive — it can only print one book every two days, at best.
The key to being published, of course, is to get yourself an agent. This involves untold hours of combing through literary agency websites, trying to discern which agent would be just the right fit for you.
At that point, you must craft your book pitch into the exact format the agent uses to take submissions; some ask for one chapter, some ask for your first five pages, some ask for your first three chapters, and so on and so on.
But you have to acquiesce to their wishes — if they asked for the first three chapters in Sanskrit, you better spend the afternoon familiarizing yourself with the language of classical Indian epic poems.
One presumes this request is solely to ascertain whether the author can use word processing, spell correctly, and avoid libeling someone for at least 1, words consecutively.
This is especially true of first-time authors. So, in short, the best way to find an agent is easy — all you have to do is already be famous.
Then again, if you have famous friends, this is where you can lean on them for advice. It is a bit of an eye-opener to see what sorts of humor books make it to the shelves; typically, they are nonfiction memoir-type books adorned with some big, cathartic hook as a title.
For instance, it appears the most recent trend is to write comedy books about how much you want to punch people:. Yet this strategy assumes your book falls into a specific category — a tricky proposition, as many agents represent different styles of books.
Which is why I am taking this afternoon to punch random people in the face and include their reactions in the first chapter.
If a book company wants to front my bail money as my advance, we can work that out. Naturally, sensitive writers trying to classify their works is always an exercise in self-delusion.
Of course, while this is all going on, you have to ask people to read the book to see if another living human being other than you can stand it.
So choose who you give it to carefully. Further, you should know that once you foist your book on someone to read, that person will likely disappear completely to avoid having awkward conversations with you about your novel.
In fact, you should really ask people you hate to read your stuff, as it will guarantee you will never hear from them again.
It is true, this is an option in the world of the intertubes. But then again, e-books still do have the taint of not having been accepted by a real, live book company.
The fact that a publisher saw what you wrote and stamped it with its imprimatur is a big selling point; by releasing an e-book, you are dropping a teaspoon full of words in an Atlantic Ocean of literary excrescence.
Best case scenario, I finally find an agent, the book sells well, and this post ends up making me look stupid.
Until then, I will continue to endure this soul-deadening experience with the knowledge that even J. Rowling was turned down by dozens of agents and publishers before she finally got her break.
I hope this letter finds you in good spirits. For nearly a year here on the Western front, I have longed to once again gaze upon your honeyed visage.
As the nights fall to below freezing in our fetid trench, my memories of you are all I have to warm my heart. And I cannot say how long that will be enough to keep me alive during this, the greatest of all wars.
As we continue to pound away at the German lines, the unmistakable specter of death has us surrounded. My company loses a dozen men a day from German cannon fire, sniper attacks, disease, or from the cold.
The only positive thing to happen in the past month was the time a barely-clothed woman leapt from our trench and defeated an entire German battalion by herself armed with only a shield, a sword, and some bullet-resistant arm cuffs.
Otherwise, the smell of corpses is beginning to overwhelm our trench. Desperation has taken hold of our men — even late at night, we can still hear the cries of our brothers left wounded on the battlefield, begging for their mothers and wives.
Their final pleadings are close enough to hear, yet they are too far to attend to. It is almost enough for some healthy men to wish for a swift death themselves, rather than having to endure another day in this nightmare.
Perhaps I should provide some more clarification about my previous reference to the comely, near-naked woman who ended up killing hundreds of Germans by herself.
Having drawn the attention of the Hun, we were able to then attack and defeat their heavily fortified line, providing the Allied powers with a rare victory indeed.
Yet despite this temporary victory, few men have hopes of ever winning the war. The Germans will stop at nothing to crush France, Britain and the United States on their path to world domination.
To many, this was a war begun by the assassination of a worthless archduke nephew of an equally worthless emperor; and yet troops are seeing their best mates cut down in the prime of their lives.
We can only hope that the Lord blesses our mission with his divine grace to stop the barbarism being inflicted on Europe by the Kaiser. The weird thing is, why were the Germans shooting at the most beautiful woman in the world while she was completely unarmed?
If you looked hard enough, you could see a pretty solid side-boob — why would an entire battalion rain all their gunfire on this glorious figure while completely ignoring the hundreds of Allied troops carrying their own guns and rushing towards the German trench?
Anyway, I may have gotten sidetracked there for a moment. It is a question left only for the history books.
Hopefully future volumes will tell of the heroism of the men fighting in the Great War and the blood they have shed to free the world from the shackles of imperialism.
I am willing to die for our cause — with God on our side, what glory awaits! My pencil is getting dull, so one final note — once the war is complete, my commander has commissioned me and several of my comrades on a mission to Themyscira, an island that is…um… evidently very dangerous and is of vital strategic importance.
As it is the birthplace of this wondrous woman, it must be defended at all costs, as there are no men on the entire island.
It is a mission of such prestige, literally every man in my battalion has volunteered for service!
What a brave sacrifice we are all willing to make! I must leave you now, dear Mabel. Please do not weep if you do not hear from me again.
In my remaining days, my mind will be busy thinking of you, my own mortality, the morality of war, and what it would be like to perform battlefield CPR on literally the most unbelievable woman in the world.
I told him I presumed I would talk about the usual things I discuss with my liberal friends. Sports, movies, music, sandwiches, girls, work, funny drinking stories, how I got the scars I have, why dogs are great, mustaches, World War I, Twitter, Harley Davidson motorcycles, what animals you think you can beat in a fight, etc.
All the usual stuff. The lesson, of course, is that as regular people moving around in the world, we all have interests that may overlap or diverge, but that have nothing to do with political affiliation.
But aside from politics, who knew Hemingway played in a rock band in Seattle in the early s, or that he has an encyclopedic knowledge of the history of grunge music?
As a lifelong Cornell fan, I immediately felt a kinship with Hemingway in a way I never had before.
And the same goes with progressives that began popping up on my social media timelines telling their stories about their Chris Cornell fandom.
In , I saw Soundgarden in Milwaukee when they shared a bill with Blind Melon and Neil Young; it was just after Cornell shaved off his famous long locks of hair, and thinking he looked awesome, I went right home and did the same thing.
He looked like a badass — I looked like an eraser. It is incumbent on people who have ideas about government to fight for their convictions, and conflict is an important part of the system of checks and balances.
But for too many people, politics is now all we know about them, and it makes them far easier to dismiss. And you might be missing and important connection with someone who shares your thoughts, as weird as they may be.
In the early days of the internet, scientists marveled at its potential to bring people together; instead, it has fractured us over political lines.
Another year, another list of my favorite albums. As always, these have been carefully selected through a strict scientific method; now that I have taken the lab coat off and turned off all the Bunsen burners, these are the 10 albums the formula yielded.
My love for Laura Gibson is well documented. Over a year ago, her New York home burned down, taking many of her valuable instruments with it.
Unapologetic psychedelic rock devoid of nuance. They manage the rare feat of capturing the frantic energy of their live shows on their recordings.
Came out in January of and remained a lock for my Top 10 all year. Plus, the world needed to hear the late Phife Dawg one last time.
Another stellar guitar-pop album from L. Every song an earworm, front to back. A sprawling album in which each song winds into the next, mixing disco, hip-hop, soul and general silliness.
But the album deserves all the praise heaped on it during the year — it checks all the boxes that make an album great.
And the fact that Radiohead is still breaking new ground after two decades makes it all the more remarkable.
It was March of , and the show was on in the morning, while the game was in the afternoon. What if people wanted to talk to me about politics?
I briefly considered wearing some sort of disguise. When I got to the game, in looking for my seats, I walked from one end of the stadium to the other.
I received not a single look, not a comment. I then retraced my steps, walking the length of the stadium and back again.
Still nothing. It appears my instant fame had somehow gone missing. Lisa Manna, who used to be a morning anchor in Green Bay, told me she once received a manila envelope filled with pornographic pictures.
The eyes were scribbled out and her name was written on the women. The pictures were accompanied by a letter detailing the things this man would do to her, which earned her a police escort to work.
One female reporter who does frequent live reports from downtown told me there are some people who will watch the broadcast, then rush over to where she is to confront her about something she reported.
Small cadres of anonymous critics frequently whip up online fiction in an attempt to demean me. Would they say that to my face?
Do I actually unknowingly talk to any of these people on a regular basis in real life? Did I ever actually really know that person?
Typically, being a notable person is seen as a trade-off; you put up with people recognizing you in exchange for wealth or influence.
But trust me, the marginally recognizable enjoy neither of these advantages. The merely notable are resigned to having a drink, rolling up in a blanket, and watching Leonardo DiCaprio movies, helping him in his quest to buy an extra island.
I do have several advantages, however. The picture that accompanies my photo in the newspaper was taken before I needed glasses.
And as Superman has taught us, throw on a pair of thick rims and literally nobody — not even your love interests — can recognize you any more.
Oddly, enough, ancillary stardom is something more and more people now seek. Now, more people seem to believe fame is an end in itself. Not for me.
Of course, none of this is enough to keep me from doing what I love for a living. As I exited my youth and aged into my thirties, and now forties, I felt much the same.
How nice it would be to once again get out of bed without my ankles shooting pain through my legs. My belly button has begun to flee my abdomen as if it had just robbed a bank.
At age 42, a good bit of every day is devoted simply to being a human in the world — exercising, trying to eat well, finding new places I need to shave — all things one takes for granted in the prime of youth.
I feel like they should build a statue of me outside my house every time I successfully get my socks on. I worked primarily as a waiter, stuffing dollar bills in my back pocket after a shift.
The extent of my money management skills was knowing it was better to bounce one big check rather than a series of smaller checks, since you only have to pay the one-time bad check fee.
That is, unless you are trying to be an Ironic Drinker, in which case the worse the beer, the higher your stature. Drink all the year old scotch you want — a couple of ibuprofen before you go to bed, and you wake up ready to wrestle an alligator.
If college students figured this out, it would bankrupt them all. Whenever I go back and read a column I wrote just a week earlier, I think of all the things I learned in the days since it was published.
And it feels like someone else entirely wrote the column. Of course not. To surrender my experiences would be to entirely change who I am now, which is way too risky of a proposition.
This seems different for young women, who are more open to dating older men. But as you age, you begin to find women your own age attractive — your preferences grow older along with you.
So when you get to your 40s, more people are attractive. Younger women are attractive, older women are attractive.
In my 20s, I spent a lot of time experimenting with things out of my comfort zone. I listened to all the music I could get my hands on, no matter how avant garde; at one point in college, I found myself listening to a CD of a German band who made music by banging on shopping carts with spoons.
You are free to do what you wish with the few remaining years you have on this earth. Your time left on this mortal coil is too valuable to dabble in ephemera.
And the wonder of having kids narrowly cancels out the glory of not having them. People generally think that having and raising children is a selfless act.
Further, having kids immediately brings clarity and focus to your life. No matter how disjointed or scattered your life was up to that point, once a child emerges, you know exactly what the purpose of your life is.
From then on, you cease to be the author of your own biography — your life story is being written by a pound human. And your only reason for existing is to take care of that mini-you.
It is true, that when you age, you have perspective. If any one emotion characterizes youth, it is the belief that one is the axis upon which the universe turns.
But the older you get, the more you see the world around you and grasp your relative insignificance. You just sip your expensive alcohol and enjoy the ride.
Perhaps this one is more personal, but not only do I like being old, I like being old exactly at this time in history. I can find my way to places without using GPS, and I can have arguments without having to dive into my iPhone for information to back me up.
I love that when I was ten, my parents would kick me out of the house with instructions only to be back by dinner time — a practice that led to a great deal of tree climbing, garter snake handling, fort building, and basketball shooting.
But being older and having a strong connection to a specific era with someone else is actually a pretty decent stand-in for long-term friendship.
Meeting someone your age and realizing they, too, thought Pearl Jam was overrated is a solid foundation for future friendship; and the older you are, the more cultural touchstones you are able to share with other people.
The young can have their youth — I have my memories.