Google researchers uncover 2-year iPhone hack tied to malicious websites

"I'm going off the grid!" declared Crazy Henry a while back, when we were out back at his place cracking open butternuts with a hammer. He wanted to make a butternut cake for his Aunt Smedley's birthday.
"Nobody can go completely off the grid -- it's impossible. You have to have some contact with the outside infrastructure and communications or you'll get mummified or something" I told him decisively. 
"We shall see what we shall see" he replied enigmatically. "I'm through letting all those darn hackers and viruses steal my personal info and mess up my online solitaire games. I'm going to end it by hook or by crook!" He gave some butternuts a vicious whack with the hammer, smashing them into paste. 
"Indeed we shall" was all I said in return; I can be just as enigmatic as Crazy Henry, when I want to be.
So we finished up cracking open the butternuts and then went inside. Crazy Henry is a really good cook, when he makes the effort, and that day he outdid himself -- the butternut cake came out of the oven smelling like a little piece of heaven itself. He also made some butternut cookie dough, and we baked those up after the cake and feasted on them with ice cold milk -- man, we were living the high life!
"Now just how are you gonna fall off the grid?" I asked him, after we had polished off the last of the cookies. 
"Actions speak louder than words" he said as he went into his bedroom. He came back out with his pc, keyboard and all, and tossed it right out the kitchen window into the dumpster below. It made a satisfying cartoon crash sound, with tinkles and muffled implosions. Then he fished his smartphone out of his pocket and put it in the food processor with a cup of canola oil and turned it on. The racket was horrible, but in less than a minute he had cell phone salad dressing. He poured the mess down the sink and turned on the garbage disposal. He sat down  with a satisfied smirk on his face, so I had to needle him.
"Don't you pay all your bills automatically online with your bank?" I asked him derisively. "They can always track you that way."
"By gadfrey, you're right!" he gasped. "Let's get to the bank, quick, before it closes!"
Crazy Henry spent the rest of that day unplugging from the grid, or trying to. He even disconnected his doorbell.
The next day I drove him down to the bus station. He was joining a nudist colony up in Canada.
"That's going off the grid with a vengeance!" he crowed gaily as he boarded the bus for Toronto and points west. I didn't hold my breath. Crazy Henry's inspirations and tantrums last about as long as an igloo inside a sauna.
True to form, he was back at my place two months later -- looking all hangdog.
"They kicked me out" he said. "Because I had too much body fat."
I comforted him with a trip to Aamodt's Apple Orchard, for the last of their apple cider donuts -- you can't get those anyplace else as good, believe me. 
Crazy Henry cheered up again pretty quick. When I ran into him down at the rubber mallet store he told me he was going to work for his Aunt Smedley, the mayor of our town.
"What?" I exclaimed. "Get out! That's great, man. What is she gonna have you doing?"
"I'm her new IT consultant" he said proudly.
I could only stare at him for a moment.
"But, but . . . I thought you were through with the internet and all that stuff!" I finally sputtered in surprise.
"Oh, I am" he said, a faint green glow flickering in the back of his eyes. "I am. I'm gonna learn how to make a computer virus so pickin' strong it will wipe out every algorithm and cyberlink for the next twenty years . . . "  He walked out the door with his sack of new rubber mallets without another word. I could only shake my head.
Look out, world. Hell hath no fury like a nudist scorned.