与「Notice」相关的搜索结果

⚠️ Cursor has published a security incident report on the earlier supply chain attack. According to the investigation, the attacker used access keys issued by Cursor to Fireworks and subsequently exposed on Fireworks’ side to gain access to some of Cursor’s SaaS services and internal systems. The attacker ultimately tampered with the distribution cache for the Claude Code extension to collect information about users’ machines and install SSH backdoors. The compromised versions were Anthropic.claude-code 2.1.312 and 2.1.313 in Cursor’s VS Code extension marketplace distribution cache, affecting macOS and Windows. The exposure window ran from October 29 at 17:27 to October 30 at 04:35 (UTC+8), with up to approximately 5,000 users affected. Security recommendation: If you installed or updated to either affected version through Cursor’s marketplace during this window, read the official notice as soon as possible and run the remediation script for your platform to check for and remediate any compromise: Fireworks’ initial announcement and subsequent update:

聪明的朋友可能发现了，虽然BTC最低触及了66+, 但很多山寨币并没有下跌太多，比如 $Pump一夜价格没有任何波动。 这就是我经常说的理论，山寨没有那么多货可出了，也没有做市价值。 目前山寨币指数在54，以往的下跌末期都会降到30以下。 这不是偶然，是未来的趋势，BTC的波动会大于一些山寨币，反而更适合交易者操作，山寨的流动性逐渐被吸干，一些龙头会有更好的上涨，大部分逐渐死亡，不归零但没人交易。 所以抄底时也许可以多考虑一些标的。 Sharp observers might have noticed that even though BTC dipped to the $66,000+ range, many altcoins didn’t fall all that much—for instance, the price of $PUMP remained completely flat overnight. This aligns with a theory I often discuss: there simply isn’t much supply left to dump in the altcoin market, nor is there much value in market-making for these assets. The current altcoin index sits at 54; historically, toward the end of a market decline, this figure typically drops below 30. This is no coincidence—it’s a sign of a broader trend. BTC’s volatility is now exceeding that of many altcoins, making it a better vehicle for traders. Meanwhile, liquidity in the altcoin space is gradually drying up. While a few leading tokens may still see significant gains, the vast majority are effectively dying—not necessarily hitting zero, but simply becoming illiquid with no trading activity. Therefore, when looking for "buy-the-dip" opportunities, you might want to be more selective about which assets you target.

I think the best case is to make the "monitor" as un-agentic as possible. We don't mind being "monitored" by various random tiny insects we don't even notice, even guard dogs are fine, but we really do mind if it's a globally connected networked system. And the intermediate case, human security guards with no recording equipment, we mind only a medium amount. The best idea I've come up with so far is to make these monitoring devices out of open-source verifiable hardware that has etched on it an open-weight LLM that classifies for a limited number of activities (basically, just violence; sorry, no scanning for jaywalking or not wearing a mask or drugs or unauthorized manufacturing or illegal immigrants, really just violence) and only records and forwards if that's what it sees. The device has no storage, no ability to load new algorithms, this is all it does. Also, a hash of every recording is published onchain (and a device can't record the next one until it sees confirmation of the previous one) so we can all count how much recording is done. Finally, everyone has a legal right to take any such device they see and grab it and dissassemble and verify the hardware themselves. Explicitly fund university clubs, hacker groups, etc to regularly do this.

BREAKING: In an extraordinary move made only one other time since 9/11, the FAA orders ALL flights nationwide grounded, bringing departures across the U.S. to a halt. The Federal Aviation Administration is directing all departing aircraft to remain on the ground until further notice, citing safety concerns. International flights arriving in the U.S. will be handled on a case-by-case basis as questions mount over what triggered the sweeping order. The FAA has not publicly detailed the cause of the emergency action. Download the Fox News app or go to for more.

My mom fed a homeless man behind our house for 20 years. Three meals a day, even when we couldn’t afford electricity. I hated her for it. The day after her funeral, that same man took my hands, looked me straight in the eyes, and said: “Before she died, she begged me to stay silent.” I honestly had no idea what he was talking about. For 20 years, this man had lived in a makeshift shelter behind our rental house. My mom brought him breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Every single day. And the crazy thing was, we were poor too. My sneakers had tape covering the holes. Sometimes we struggled to pay our bills, and there were days when we couldn’t even afford electricity. But somehow, my mother always found enough food to feed him. I never understood it. I remember coming home two days before Christmas and finding a yellow eviction notice taped to our front door. We were struggling to keep a roof over our heads, yet my mother was still preparing three meals a day for a stranger. That night, I finally lost my temper. Me: “Maybe if you stopped feeding strangers, we wouldn’t live like this!” My mom turned around so quickly that I knew I had crossed a line. Mom: “Don’t you ever DARE say that again.” I had never seen her that furious before. I didn’t understand why she was defending him so strongly when her own child was going without things. I moved out when I turned 18. We fought less after that, mostly because I stopped asking questions. But the man stayed. Year after year, his little shelter remained behind our house, and my mother continued feeding him. Then my mom got sick. Cancer made her small. She became quiet, and it was the kind of quiet that scares you because you know something terrible is happening. Two weeks before she died, she reached out and grabbed my wrist. Her grip was so weak that it broke my heart. Mom: “Promise me you’ll keep feeding him.” I looked at her. Honestly, I wanted to say no. I wanted to ask why she was still worrying about that man when she was the one who needed help. But you don’t lie to a dying mother. So I promised. My mom eventually passed away. The day after her funeral, I prepared the best meal I could, put it on a plate, covered it with foil, and drove to her house. I had promised her I would keep feeding him. But when I got there, the man was gone. His shelter had been completely cleared out. Everything was gone. The ground had even been swept clean, as if those 20 years had never happened. I stood there holding the warm plate, wondering where he could have gone. Then I noticed something. A black SUV was parked at the curb. Standing beside it was a man wearing an expensive wool coat. He was clean-shaven, well-dressed, and looked nothing like the homeless man I had known for 20 years. But the thing that caught my attention was what he was holding. My mother’s old silver locket. The same locket she had told me she lost when I was eight years old. He looked at me and said: Man: “I thought you wouldn’t come.” I stared at him. Me: “Wait… is that you? What’s going on?” He smiled, but his expression was unsteady. His eyes were already filling with tears. Man: “Your mom hid something from you.” I felt my stomach tighten. Me: “What did she hide?” He looked at the plate in my hands before responding. Man: “Before she died, she begged me to stay silent.” My blood went cold. Me: “Silent about what?” He gently shook his head. Man: “Sit down. You shouldn’t hear this standing in the cold.” We sat on the front steps. The plate was still warm between us. He turned my mother’s silver locket over in his palm as though it might break. Then he began telling me something I never could have imagined. Man: “My real name is Vernon Hale. Before all this, I owned a company. I had a big house in Connecticut, a wife, and a little girl. My daughter was six years old.” I just stared at him.

You want to know what frustrates the hell out of me? Putting your heart, your art, your time, and your own money into building things you believe in… then watching so much of that work disappear into silence. And yeah, some days that shit gets to me. Did I bring books, reading badges, Discord, crypto, and NFTs together into one connected library? 📚 I fucking did. Did it get much attention? Nahh. Did I build an entire browser-based world with its own points economy? A world where you can turn your NFT into a character with a click, rigged, animated, and ready to step into Universe? I did. Much noise about that? Nahh. Am I building RAAP to give NFTs persistent identity, memory, and history? So an asset can carry something meaningful forward when it passes to a buyer or someone in your family? Yes. Because I believe these things can become more than pictures sitting in a wallet. Does that work get the attention I feel it deserves? Nahh. I draw the fucking art. I develop the applications. I write the books. I work through the problems. Six applications that communicate with each other. Two gaming platforms with multiple games. An NFT overlay builder with AI. A stickers and GIFs hub. Do you understand how much work goes into making all of that actually function together? The hours spent fixing something nobody will ever notice, because when it finally works, it’s supposed to feel easy. Then there’s the Discord bot. More than 30 features. A subscription service. An economy tracked on a ledger. Tools to help keep a community engaged when its owner needs to step away and live their damn life. Built it. Still feels like shouting into an empty room sometimes. And Antthony? Our smart ass AI whose dream is to become a stand-up comic? 😂 He lives across our apps. He’ll help you, roast your gameplay, and talk shit when you deserve it. He even has a comedy club inside Universe, where you can sit down with your character and watch his avatar perform. I care enough about this world to give the fucking AI a dream of his own. That’s how deep this goes for me. And I’m still building a marketplace. Still working on an NFT insurance protocol and other projects. Still writing Book 2 for the library. Still preparing two more collections under our umbrella. ☂️ So yeah, I get angry. Because I know what I’m putting into this. I know how much of myself is in every drawing, every feature, every chapter, and every problem I refuse to leave broken. Sometimes I want to scream: what the fuck else do I have to build for people to pay attention? But I also need to correct myself when I say “nobody cares.” Because some of you do. You show up. You read. You play. You test things. You tell me what’s broken and give me a reason to make it better. You matter too damn much for me to erase you just because I’m frustrated with the silence around us. 🖤 I want this to reach more people. Of course I fucking do. I’ve poured too much love into it to pretend otherwise. And I’m going to keep building because I love doing it, and because the people already here deserve to see how far we can take this. More to come in 2027. The plans are in. I’ve got work to do. 🐜

An Indian who had been living in Japan for more years noticed something strange: his Japanese friends were polite and helpful, yet none of them ever invited him to their home, not even for a cup of tea. Confused and hurt, he finally asked one Japanese friend why this was so.

MY PAYCHECK WAS SUPPOSED TO BE $4,000. INSTEAD, $50,000 HIT MY BANK ACCOUNT. I reported it to HR the next morning. Twenty minutes later, the CEO walked into the office, locked the door and said something that made my blood run cold. "I was beginning to think nobody here was honest." I've worked for this company for six years. My regular paycheck is $4,000. So when I checked my banking app on payday and saw a $50,000 direct deposit, I knew something was wrong. I didn't spend it. I didn't transfer it. I didn't even tell my coworkers. The next morning, I walked straight into HR. ME: "I think there's been a payroll mistake." HR: "What kind of mistake?" ME: "My paycheck was $50,000." She stopped typing. HR: "How much?" ME: "$50,000. My usual paycheck is $4,000." She stared at me for several seconds. HR: "Have you moved any of it?" ME: "No." HR: "Not even a small amount?" ME: "It's not my money. Why would I touch it?" She slowly closed her laptop. Then she asked a question I wasn't expecting. HR: "Did you receive a notification about the payment?" ME: "Of course. That's how I noticed it." She picked up her phone and made a call. I couldn't hear the person on the other end, but I heard her say: "He's here. And he hasn't touched it." She ended the call. ME: "What's going on?" HR: "How much do you know about the company's payroll system?" ME: "Nothing beyond checking my paycheck." She stood up, walked to the office door and closed it. HR: "Listen. You're not the first person to receive that amount." My stomach tightened. ME: "What do you mean?" She turned her computer towards me. There were eleven employees on a payroll report. Every single one had received a $50,000 payment. ME: "Eleven people?" HR: "Yes. You're the only one who hasn't moved the money." ME: "What happened to the others?" Before she could answer, someone knocked. Two firm knocks. Her face changed. Then a man's voice came from outside. "Open the door. We need to talk about those eleven payments." It was the CEO. 🧵

My husband stopped initiating sex after I turned him down three times in one week. At first, I thought he was finally understanding that I couldn’t always be in the mood whenever he was. Then I noticed he had stopped touching me altogether. No random kisses in the kitchen. No pulling me closer when we watched television. No morning hugs before leaving for work. I actually preferred it that way until one evening I asked why he was behaving like a stranger. He looked at me and said, “I figured you wanted me to stop making advances.” I laughed. “There’s a difference between not wanting sex and not wanting you to touch me.” He nodded slowly. “That’s the part I’m struggling to understand. Because lately, every time I reach for you, I have to calculate whether you’re going to feel loved or pressured.”