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Social Security Numbers Can Be Guessed
BotScout writes "The nation's Social Security numbering scheme has left millions of citizens vulnerable to privacy breaches, according to researchers at Carnegie Mellon University, who for the first time have used statistical techniques to predict Social Security numbers solely from an individual's date and location of birth. The researchers used the information they gleaned to predict, in one try, the first five digits of a person's Social Security number 44 percent of the time for 160,000 people born between 1989 and 2003. A Social Security Administration spokesman said the government has long cautioned the private sector against using a social security number as a personal identifier, even as it insists 'there is no fool-proof method for predicting a person's Social Security Number.'" Update: 07/07 00:01 GMT by T : Reader angrytuna links to Wired's coverage of the SSN deduction system, and links to the researchers' FAQ at Carnegie Mellon, which says that the research paper will be presented at BlackHat Las Vegas later this month.
The Leper Story .
We all have dreams. Mike Schmidt dreamed of becoming a professional baseball player. Jan Brady dreamed of a secret boyfriend. George Glass. Ever since I saw Ben Hur as a child, I dreamt of fucking a leper. One weekend in July of 2009, I finally achieved my dream. It went down like this:
I was at the bar drinking an Old Milwaukee when I got this text message from my buddy J-Bone. I call him J-Bone because he's African American and is missing a key bone in his ankle, which makes him very fast. I also like hanging out with him with a much larger group of rich white spoiled kids like me, because I almost feel like I am living in a beer commercial. I have a Pakistani buddy for the same reason that we call Hadi, like his is a crazy Jihadist or something. J-Bone likes to play with my emotions, and my balls, so I never take his text messages seriously:
5:51pm J-Bone: There is a leper colony in the Philippines and Jet Blue is offering cheap fares to Manila. I am here with your buddy from law school Ass Chaff, and his pimply faced girlfriend with the bad eczema is here too.
5:52pm Tucker: Fuck you
5:53pm J-Bone I'm dead serious
5:54pm Tucker: I hate you
5:56pm J-Bone : Ass Chaff has a free roundtrip ticket
6:00pm Tucker: STOP TEASING
He called me a few minutes later, when I was at home, wiping off the puss from a scary looking rectal sore and about to cook dinner.
J-Bone "Did you get my message? I am in Manila and there is a leper colony nearby."
Tucker "I got your fucking message. Come on man, stop playing."
J-Bone "Tucker, I am DEAD serious. They are everywhere. It's like Jesus came back and they are just lingering around the colony's lobby waiting for a cure. I swear on my life there are hundreds of lepers here."
[10 second pause]
Tucker "I am on the next flight."
It took me about 40 seconds to throw clothes into a duffle bag. Another 20 seconds to sprint out the door and was in a cab to LAX within two minutes of getting the call. The TV and lights were still on in my apartment, I'd left the Lean Cuisine I had in the microwave that I going to eat for dinner (my man boobs are getting huge), and I was still covered in anal sore ointment.
None of that mattered; I was finally going to fuck a Leper.
In the cab, I was so excited I could barely breathe. I called all my best friends, screaming incoherent babbles about sex with Lepers. The call to T-Bag (from a deleted story talking about some prank we pulled on a bunkmate which is only published in a new version of I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell) the movie version.
T-Bag "What is wrong with you? Why not just get a Leper hooker and be done with it?"
Tucker "FUCK THAT. Just because you buy Mike Tyson's jock strap off Ebay doesn't mean that you were World Champion, or a convicted rapist. Some things you can only claim if you have earned them. LEPER PUSSY, HERE I COME!!"
I was more excited about this than I was when my book hit the New York Times best seller list and my movie hit the discount bin of the Circle K in my hometown in Kentucky. I felt like a six year old on the night before Christmas.
At the airport and in line for my ticket, I am forced to fly Virgin Atlantic because they are the only airline that cares enough about Manila . A very nice, very Midwestern couple is in front of me. The man's shirt has a picture of cheese on it.
Tucker "You guys going to Manila?"
Guy "Yes sir, heading there to do missionary work."
Tucker "Did you know there are Lepers in the Philippines?"
The man and his wife are silent and confused and look at me like I am some sort of leper.
Tucker "HUNDREDS OF THEM!"
They turn around and mumble something about crazy New Yorkers who moved to LA after living in Miami for a while and going to school in Chicago and North Carolina. Whatever, they've never fucked a Leper, they don't matter.
The flight was nearly intolerable; my mind was spinning with questions. How do you pick up a Leper? Are you allowed to physically pick them up, or will their body parts just