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    | |      c   o   m   m   u   n   i   c   a   t   i   o   n   s     | |
    | |________________________________________________________________| |

	                  The DEFCON 2007 Experience
                                          by Oxycolton, KEMiKAL, and Flack

           __//////\   -cDc- CULT OF THE DEAD COW -cDc-   /\\\\\\__
                    __      Grand Imperial Dynasty      __
 Est. 1984   \\\\\\/ cDc paramedia: texXxt 411-12/21/2007 \//////   Est. 1984
  ___    _   _    ___     _   _    ___       _   _      ___    _   _      __

                    ((( +++---+++ OXYCOLTON +++---+++ )))

//---+>>> DAY ONE! <<<+---\\

        "Not happening tonight"

        "We have nothing here"

        "Quit calling, its 3 AM"

        These are the responses I received from my drug dealers the evening
prior to Defcon.  I was devastated.  Not so much for myself, but what about my
brothers?  How do I feed my brothers?

        OK, I was sad for myself as well.

        As soon as I crashed out the alarm went off.  Five AM, time to pick up
b4fl3 then off to the airport.  I buttoned my shirt, tightened my tie, chugged
my coffee and looked in the mirror.  Lookin' good.

        The flight from Phoenix to Las Vegas seems like 5 minutes.  Up and
down.  When we landed, I called Kemikal.  He was with Diskrez, who, in total
NSF fashion, had rented a Hummer.  They came out to the airport to pick us up.
The style points were already off the charts.

        B4fl3 and I were dropped off at the Riviera to register for the con
and check into our rooms.  Outside Defcon registration, I ran into Smack and
Talon Prime.  I did not recognize Smack because of him being so incredibly
incognito on the internet.  I shot a TXT (message, not file, lulz) over to
Myles and told him where we were.  Steadily approaching was a man who
strikingly resembled Clark Kent.  It turned out to be Myles.  We made plans to
meet up at a diner in the Riviera.

        The diner congregation was pretty successful with the likes of
Arrakis, Myles, Green Diamond, Talon Prime, Diskrez (and friends), RaD Man,
Flack, and Kemikal. We all made plans to hit up Valsmith and Chamuco's talk
then regroup to Myles, RaD Man and Flack's speech.

        After that the weirdness begins.

        It all started with me breaking away from the group at the later
panel's Q&A and looking for a girl.  Not just any girl, but a girl who looked
post-goth, punk or post-punk, goth.  Probably alone, probably looking like the
sun hasn't seen her flesh since adolescence. The reason for this being most,
if not all of the female types that resemble these traits have one form or
another of anxiety, depression, OCD, Tourette's, ADD, or quite possibly all of
the above.  Someone afflicted with one or more of these "socially crippling
diseases" is bound to have some kind of recreational prescription
pharmaceutical.  Preferably narcotic, preferably non-stimulant.  I was
expecting a Benzo of some sort, but had my hopes up for a synthetic opiod of

        After about 45 seconds of searching, I tripped over a girl sitting
outside track three.  I sat down next to her and introduced myself as
Grandmaster Ratte' of CULT OF THE DEAD COW.  She had no idea what I was
talking about.  Apparently, her boyfriend was speaking in the track across
from where we were sitting.  I looked about and it was quite an impressive
turnout with people crowded outside the venue.  The reason for her not
attending the speech was due to it all "being Greek" and she had to TXT her
agent (whatever that meant).  I asked if I could buy her a drink, but she
declined.  I asked if she could by me a drink, but she didn't see the humor I
did in that.  I saw all of this going nowhere so I bit the bullet and asked if
she had anything for my "headache."

        "No, sorry, I don't."

        "Oh, I had some Xanax which usually helps with my tension headaches,
but couldn't get a refill before I left."

        "Well, I don't think Xanax, chemically, can help a headache."

        I thought to myself, "motherfucker, I don't need a biology lesson on
the chemical compounds of benzodiazepines and if they do or do not have
analgesic properties."

        Before I was about to excuse myself from her presence to find another
girl with more problems she stated:  "However, if you want some Klonopin, I
have some."

        No shit?

        How fucking cool, I thought.  I did not see that coming.  I held my
hand out expecting one or two, but instead she kind of poured the bottle out
into my hand as you would M&Ms.  Ten or so fell out and I hurried them into my
shirt pocket before she could ask for any back.

        Buh bigh, lol!

        After all that, I made my way back to the Defcon registration which
seemed to be the center point of the hotel and the conference.  I saw Myles,
who introduced me to Lizzie Borden.  Lizzie and I swapped numbers and shortly
after, he sent me a TXT message about a BBQ at a house they (303) rented on
the outskirts of Las Vegas.  They planned out a shuttle which took Arrakis,
myself and a whole clan of other people to the BBQ.

        I sat down and on a float I found by the pool, popped open a Corona
and reached into my shirt pocket.  I grabbed two Klons, blessed them, chewed
them up then washed them down.  I laid back and thought about the similarities
the sun had with its warmth and that of the grace of Cow.  I went out like a
baby.  Shortly after, I was shaken awake by Lizzie.  Everyone was gathering
around to watch a reality television show 303 were all in about social hacking
their way into a high end auto dealership.  Very bad ass.

        After the video, the rest of the crew showed up and multiple drinks
and photo ops ensued.

        Somehow, we all made it back to the Strip for the offishul NSF party
at the Krave.

[[Flack:  "Somehow" happened like this.  I showed up to the 303 BBQ late, about
10 minutes prior to the group's departure.  Oxy was walking around asking
people, "Are you going directly to the Krave?"  When I told him yes he said,
"I'm riding with you," and hopped into the front seat of my Avalanche.  Smack
and TalonPrime climbed into the back.

        When we hit the strip Oxy whipped out his ... cell phone (you pervs)
and proceeded to call Spanish-speaking friends.  While he was on the phone, I
whipped out my Pro-26 scanner I'd brought and we tried to pick up the other
half of his conversation.  Unfortunately there is SO much cell chatter on the
Vegas strip that we seemed to be picking up everyone else's cell phone but
his.  I would have tried switching to tower freqs but I was driving.

        After Oxy's conversacion ended, we began talking about foreign
languages.  Talon mentioned he was learning Arabic which launched Oxy into a
long speech about how all the money is in learning Farsi instead of Arabic,
broken up by occasional comments like, "I love you guys," and "these lights
are beautiful."  Assuming that Oxy was already somewhere in
happy-happy-medicated-land, I simply nodded, smiled, and kept on driving.

We arrived at the Krave moments later.]]

        By the time I found my way inside, most everyone was there.
Surprising enough, GD and Smack were there as well (mind you they are
underage).  I think this had to do with the incredible smuggling techniques of
the ever so l33t Delchi, who I met at the Krave and for whom I have great

        The Krave was basically a continuation of the BBQ but in a darker,
more IDM/Goth-esque environment.  More drinks were consumed along with more
Klonopins.  At some point (this information is sketchy), I believe Olorin
called me to find out where we all were.  I couldn't hear him so I stepped
outside.  I walked over to the side of the building to hear him better, and
with so much liquor consumed leading to a full bladder and a skeptical
prostate, I emptied my urine on the sidewalk.  About 15 yards from where I
was taking a piss, a guy in a shirt and tie walked out from the building.  I
didn't think to stop or hide what I was doing, as I left my shame and dignity
back in Arizona.  As the guy kept walking he stopped by my side, leaned over
and said, "I don't want to see you back inside."

        Weird and coincidently enough, I didn't want to see him back in there,
either.  (How was I to know this fucker was the manager?)

        I zipped up, walked around the corner and followed the same guy back
in.  I notified many as I could that I don't think my presence is welcome
anymore.  Then as I turned around, the same fucking guy had managed to grab me
by the shoulder and continued to lead me to the exit.

        Kicked out of our own party. Incredible.

        (Another after Krave story consists of some chickenshit backing the
fuck down from Diskrez after a confrontation.  Wish I was there/coherent for

        The crew all found its way up and down the strip.  Olorin and I had a
minor confrontation when he took it upon himself to assume I was too out of
control for trying to "grab girls' asses" and damn near took me down to the
ground on the strip.  I understand he was looking out for my best interests (I
love you Olorin, you know this).  After all this, the ever so badass
Snowchyld decided it best to baby sit me.  The two of us along with GD and
Smack found ourselves on the Air Tram back to where they were staying.  I then
walked myself back to the Riviera and to my room.  I fell asleep on my side
due to the room spinning.  I was so tired and spent that I didn't even think
to masturbate.

//---+>>> DAY TWO! <<<+---\\

        I woke up late in the AM to find that I missed two text messages from
Arrakis.  Breakfast at the Riviera's buffet was in order.  Olorin, b4fl3,
Arrakis (and lady) all enjoyed their big breakfast as I picked at mine
thinking about my first frosty alcoholic beverage.  Finishing up, I got a text
from Dark Sorcerer that he was there at Defcon.  The speech he was at is where
we decided to meet.  I asked how to spot him and he explained that he is 6'4"
and wearing a yellow suit.  Hard to miss.

        I made my way to the track by myself.  When I got there, I spotted him
right away.  The speech had a pretty good turnout but was incredibly boring.
I suggested we get on with the day's events by getting a bottle of Grey Goose,
a few cans of Red Bull and making our way to the sky boxes.

        The sky boxes at the Riviera were really neat; dark, cool rooms with
seats overlooking parts of the convention.  Bars with bartenders serving beer
and cocktails, DJs and sweaty, stinky computer hackers hovering over their
laptops occupied the skyboxes.  A few more of us gathered at the skybox and
we sat around and chit chatted.  My hand was forced to tell a story that took
place a few weeks prior about how I passed out on a hiking trail after I got
drunk with Olorin at the Phoenix airport.  After seeing Olorin off, later that
day, I took a few too many Xanax and ending up fucking a squatter punk on her
period, sans condom.  No one was impressed and all were a bit grossed out.  I
even noticed Snowchyld inch his way further from me.  Good people, but not the
crowd in which to tell a story of such sad proportions.

        After this, DS and I isolated ourselves with stories of our past junk
lust days regarding banging dope, doing large amounts of Vicodin (which can
cause (in both our cases) liver poisoning, jaundice, and other health
complicating ailments) and the finer points of K-holes.  At this moment, we
thought it a good idea to call up Patrick Kroupa (Lord Digital), who was a
mutual friend and fellow cDcer.  DS had his number memorized, but sadly no
answer on Kroupa's end.  DS left a humorous voice message (PK, did you even
get that?) and I cheered Lord Digital loud enough in the background to where
he could hear it.
        After an hour or so and a handful of text messages, we decided it
fitting for all of us to met at the Riviera's diner again.  Photo ops, group
signings of _The Book of Cao_ and conversations were all around.  With our
conglomerate of eliteness present, Flack overheard someone stating, "Holy
shit, the CULT OF THE DEAD COW is here."

        The day progressed with a few more speeches including Arrakis's, which
went very well.  He was able to attract mens, womens, and even DOJ agents
(GOOD JOB!).  During his Q&A, I broke a brief moment of silence with a
question to the beat of, "During your speech, did you feel burdened by your
own personal eliteness in the small confines of the venue?"  I think he
replied, "Yes, Oxycolton, I did."

        When all the boring tech shit ended, it was time to party again.  A
huge fucking group of us walked over to the Hilton which had a Star Trek
themed bar.  On the way, I saw Snowchyld hastily walking toward us, away from
the Hilton.

        "That place fucking sucks."

        "Where are you going, man?"

        "Not back to that fucking shitty place."

        There has to be a story behind that and I don't recall seeing him the
rest of the night.

        The bar was busy with people dancing, making tinfoil hats, and playing
Super Nintendo (which Smack completely fucking dominated).  In the back of the
bar, I mixed my own drinks courtesy of the bottle of Grey Goose hidden in my
backpack.  More photo ops ensued with the usual suspects and a few other good
people such as Javaman, some guys from the TCP/IP drinking game, and an
assortment of women in tinfoil hats that bordered on "cute."  DS, his
roommate, and myself stood around the cheese table and helped ourselves.  DS
then offered Adderal which, even being a non-fan of stimulants, I graciously
took.  I designated Defcon a special occasion.

        Completely fucking drunk, jacked, and relatively twisted, some of us
made our way to the 303 party located at the sky boxes back at the Riviera.
There, I was able to photo op it up with the likes of Lizzie Borden, Delchi,
Arrakis, and a few others.  Good times with good people.  The party had a DJ,
alcohol and small talk regarding just about everything.  On the skybox
balcony, I was staring down and talking to girls one balcony over.  This
resulted in nothing but good, clean (boring) fun.  I couldn't stop thinking
about more drugs or the potential but elusive poon.

        I can't remember if things either tamed down or I lost my edge, but I
once again made it back to my room safely.  Olorin ordered room service.  I
passed out then woke up again.  Olorin wasn't there.

        Laying on the bed, on my side, I fell asleep again with no room in my
hectic, eliteness-filled schedule to masturbate.  Three cheers for destroying
the norm.

//---+>>> DAY THREE! <<<+---\\

        Waking up on my side, I realized I didn't move once through the whole
night.  It was late morning again.  Olorin was sleeping, so I can only assume
he made it back safely.  I thought that maybe he went out and bought a whore.
Something I promised myself and for some reason couldn't see Olorin doing.
Was he able to blur the line of belligerency before me?  Who, after all, is
the counter culture hacker in the room?  Who destroys societal boundaries and
is known for it?  I started feeling queasy thinking that I had let my own ego
down.  I promised myself something epic for the day.
        I made my way to the lobby.  I felt gross, hung over and sloppy.  I
was just roaming aimlessly, in a cDc shirt, flip flops and combat shorts, my
hair completely fucking wild.  I was walking upstream amongst a crowd of
greasy, sweaty, pimply faced nerds going from track whatever to the next.  All
in an excited one way motion I couldn't jive with.

        I ran into Snowchyld.  He seemed to be doing the same thing as I, only
he looked better and well-rested.  I recommended we go swimming.  He tried to
make the excuse of not having swim shorts, but I had him covered:  I had
brought two pair for just this instance.

        No excuses.  Not today.

        We made our way to the pool.  It was a beautiful day, sun shining,
very hot.  We made the length of the pool a few times talking about computers,
traveling, existence (ours, nothing philosophical or metaphysical (aint no
fags)).  Two girls, who at first I thought were underage (clearly were not
after further examination) made their way into the pool, very sexy like.  I
pointed them out and probably stated something to the effect of having a
desire to eat their asses.  Snowchyld suggested I was a pedophile and was
being way creepy by staring them down.  He is fucking blind and I insisted he
didn't know what he was talking about.  Overhearing them talk, I learned they
didn't speak English which is a major turn on.  The hotter one even had the
bottom of her titties falling out of her bikini top.  Too fuckin sexXxie.  I
shot love laser beams out of my eyes in their direction.  I think they might
have gathered the creep vibe from me and from out of fucking nowhere their
parents collected them and rushed them off.

        A group of us met at the food court.  We were trying to decide what
the day should consist of and all DS and I could come up with is drinking and
searching for mind altering substances.  We all made plans to meet at
Mandalay.  After a quick cab ride there DS, Arrakis, b4fl3 and myself decided
on sushi at a little place in the middle of the Mandalay called "J-POP."  An
obscene, pop-culturally themed Japanese train wreck with shitty service
accompanied by $30 rolls, $20 sashimi and $15 cocktails.  Olorin, Snowchyld,
Diskrez, GD, Smack and about 100 other people finally joined us.  Olorin
refused to eat raw, uncooked fish so he and McNasty went to get steak.

        After hundreds of dollars (collectively) of sushi and long,
technologically inclined conversations about hacking, the future of hacking,
and real estate in the South West, I wasn't feeling so great.  I excused
myself, paid for what I consumed and went to vomit in the bathroom (one of the
more expensive vomits I've had to date).  When I returned, no one was there.
I called DS and he explained he had to bail back to his hotel, as he was
leaving early in the AM back to Denver.  We said our goodbyes over the phone
and I met up with the rest of the clan and we waited outside the Michael Mina
steak place for Olorin and McNasty to finish their dinner.  When we were all
gathered together ready to move on for drinking and walking the strip, we
stopped briefly to pose for a photo by a giant set of concrete sculpted
titties (no shit).

        Then, from out of nowhere, Olorin had to leave.  Some Asian was coming
to pick him up and drive him back to Orange County.  That left me the room to
myself for the night.  We went halfsies on all three nights, but I'm sure he
justified the fiscal loss to the road dome that was waiting for him.  Go get
'em, tiger.

        More of the same went on.  Good times all around.  Walking the strip,
asking the Mexicans (the ones who pass out the free porn cards) for coke and
heroin, public drinking, air tram drinking, belligerencies at Irish Pubs,
more public drinking, photo ops and the like.

        Lots of us broke apart again.  It was down to b4fl3, Snowchyld,
McNasty, and myself.  We made our way to a rather weird hotel which had an
open food court.  During our late night dinner, b4fl3 and I had our normal
arguments regarding society and culture, much to the amusement of both McNasty
and Snowchyld.

        Snowchyld, b4fl3, and myself took a cab back to our hotels.  Splitting
apart again, it was down to b4fl3 and myself.  We made our way back to the

        This is where things got a bit weird.

        Walking down the now-empty, post-Defcon hallways of the Riviera, we
were being a bit loud and a lot drunk.  In the area where the Defcon
registration had been, a girl was slapping another girl's ass.  The girl
getting spanked had herself propped up against a large pillar, skirt hiked up,
taking the spankings with glee and excitement.

        I told B4fl3 that I was down for a show and that we should stop and
observe.  About 30 yards away from the public spank festival was a group of
about eight or so people, guys and girls, talking.  I noticed that they were
all together as one group.  I felt a powerful urge to document what I was
witnessing via video, so we rounded a corner where a 75 degree angled wall
separated b4fl3 and me from the rest of the group.  This still gave us a
straight-ahead view of the antics taking place.  We both sat down with our
backs to the walls, watching in amusement.  I was enjoying myself so much
that I took my boots off and made myself comfortable.

        I took my camera out, switched to video mode and hit record.  After
about 20 solid seconds of good video she spotted me.  She looked right into
the camera and with a smirk said, "Fuck you, Faggot."  She then brushed her
dyed black hair away from her face and started walking towards me.  Fast
paced, seemingly pissed, but very, VERY FUCKING SEXY.

        At this moment I put my camera behind my back and removed the memory
card and shoved it in my back pocket.  All very quickly and all done only by
touch.  I couldn't let her confiscate the memory card or in any way jeopardize
what I had recorded.  It was a good thing I know my camera like some people
know their children.

        When she got to where I was sitting, she hiked up her skirt, put her
hands on my shoulders and straddled me.  I looked over at b4fl3 who was about
five feet next to me.  Shock and disbelief covered his face.

        She was hammered fucking drunk.  We went back and forth for about a
minute and half.  She kept insisting on seeing what was shot on my camera and
I kept pleading that I had nothing.

        At the peak of us verbally going at it and her straddling me, the
group she was with came rushing over.  I tried to make my surroundings as
organized as possible in case I needed to haul ass away from the scene.  As I
was putting my boots in my bag, I noticed my NSF name tag that read
"OXYCOLTON."  That too was shoved in my bag as I about shit my pants wondering
if anyone had seen it.  I then took my hands from behind my back and held them
up with my camera.  Everyone was insisting on knowing what the fuck was going

        I knew that one of these guys had to be her boyfriend so I refrained
from touching her and kept my hands up.  We both explained what happened in
our own way.  The boyfriend, whom I assumed existed (and who very much did
exist) sat down in between b4fl3 and me.  After her drunken ramblings of just
"wanting to see what I recorded," I explained my flawless case to everyone.

        My story went something to the effect of, "during Defcon, a lot of
people were borrowing my camera to take photos and in doing so they kept
touching my lens with their fingers.  Therefore, all I was doing was focusing
my camera about the area trying to find the finger prints on my lens and then
clean them off."

        She kept going off about how I was full of shit and all she wanted to
do was see what I had recorded.

        My case got better explaining to everyone that a friend "had my memory
card to transfer the photos onto his laptop," and with no memory card, and no
built-in memory, photos and videos could not be taken.  I demonstrated this by
showing everyone the "No Memory Card" error you get when you try to take a

        At this moment, everyone started apologizing for their drunken friend.
However, amidst all of that the girl was still straddling me, skirt hiked up
and all.  Defeating her, I tried to press my recently acquired boner against
her crotch without anyone noticing.
        At this point the boyfriend was able to get her off of me.  I had to
adjust myself to hide the half boner I had obtained.

        They all went their own way and when I knew it was solid, b4fl3 and I
got up and rushed towards our rooms.  In the elevator, I popped the memory
card back in and we watched with victory my uber hack that had taken place all
of two minutes ago.

        Back in the room, I felt energized and excited after everything that
had just taken place.  With that, I loaded the video from my camera to my
laptop.  With a bit of imagination and the video I just shot, I finally busted
a clean nut on some tissue, rolled over, and went to bed with a big smile on
my face.

//---+>>> DAY FOUR! <<<+---\\

        The next day, Trammel, Snowchyld, b4fl3, and I all escorted Smack to
the airport.  The remainder of us got some coffee and some expensive airport
Mexican food.  Then Trammel went, then Snowchyld.

        At the gate, waiting for our plane, b4fl3 was writing code on his
laptop and, while trying to keep my head up and my eyes open, I started to
write the outline of this story.

        Done, over and ouHt. over 4,000 words. lol.


                     ((( +++---+++ KEMIKAL +++---+++ )))

        I embarked from the parking lot at about 8pm on Thursday evening on
August 1.  I drove the Honda that I had purchased from my father for four
grand.  I had a thousand bucks in my pocket.  My arsenal included a 7.62x54r
mosin nagant rifle, a claw-style "Heavy Hitter" hammer with an orange neon
no-slip handle, a tactical knife, a baseball bat, a pool cue, one roll of
Duct Tape, a roll of nickels, and a pocket full of knuckle sandwiches.

        The supplies that I brought included several changes of clothing, a
bait and tackle box containing one vicodin and several industrial strength
aspirin, one quarter ounce of medical grade marijuana from the cannabis club,
a quart of Tullamore Dew Irish whiskey, a quart of Covasier V.S.O.P.

        I did not bring my computer because I refuse to drive so fucking long
to just spend all of my time hunched over it.  I could just do that shit at
home, like right now.

        Night driving sucks, because after all of the 100 songs that fit on
my shitty mp3 player are through (someone jacked my iPod, the thieving scum),
it's either:  listen to shitty radio programming, or let my mind, devoid of
stimulus, devour itself -- which is actually the better decision IMHO.  The
route that I needed to take was rather complicated, as an express highway from
the Bay Area to Vegas has yet to be conceived, but would be a stroke of

        It is approximately 540 miles from where I hang my hat to Sin City, so
by the time I got to the desert, my mind was fucking mush.  I started
hallucinating at around Baker.  I kept seeing a corpse in the rear-view
mirror.  It kept whispering in my head (not out loud) telling me to crash my
car into oncoming traffic.  Lucky for the oncoming traffic, I don't really
listen to strange bodies chillin' in my backseat, so I made it there alright.
I think that it might have been Jack, but I'm not sure.

        I got to the park at which the Toxic Barbecue was being held at about
5am, just as the hateful orange ball of dehydrating death ascended for another
spiteful trip through the sky.  I rolled around asking people about the
barbecue, but nobody knew.  I waited for a few hours, then I drove across the
street to an Albertsons, noting a "cafe" that was just opening at around 8am.
I had to take a crap, but I have a severe phobia about public restrooms, and
all of the bacteria that I just know is crawling up the walls, and the essence
of other people's shit, pubic hair on toilet seats, and yellow splotches of
urine stains.

        At about this point, it started getting warm.

        Vegas sucks in the summer when you have no place to go.  I think that
I contracted a mild case of heat exhaustion, but around 11 or 12 (this is a
guess on my part), Smack showed up.  I had been trying to take a nap all
morning, but these assholes were playing with a fucking remote control boat
that was keeping me awake.  Not to mention this idiotic Vegasian mutant
chicken-bird that always seemed to know right when I was about to sleep, and
quite vocally protested.

        Smack and I rolled around getting food and shiz for a few, but we
couldn't find anybody, so at about 2pm we decided to chill in the parking lot
under the shade of a few trees in my car.  I had both doors of my car open to
let in the breeze, and Smack had his windows open for a sort of wind tunnel
effect, and it wasn't that bad in the car.

        The spot next to me was empty, and had a car been there, I would have
had to shut the door.  Several people rolled through, slowed down, and eyed
the spot next to me, but they were foiled, as I had my foot in the door crack,
and was not about to shut the door.  They all just drove by, and I figured
fuck 'em.  If they wanted to park in the shade, they should have gotten there
early.  A few hours go by, and this white or silver SUV came rolling up, as if
to park in the spot next to me as I am right in the middle of telling Smack
some shit that happened a while ago.  I don't move to close my doors.  The
person in the car impatiently honks their horn, rudely interrupting my story.
"Fuck that," I think, so I honk back at them.  They honk more.  I honk more.

        The guy rolls down his windows and yells, "Close your doors!"

        I yell "NO!"  This goes on for several minutes.

        Finally, the dickhead angrily pulls back and parks behind us.  A team
of Mexican soccer players climbs out.  The driver stands at about four foot
seven.  He comes over to the front of my car with the door in between us like
a fucking pansy and starts mean mugging me.

        "Why don't you close your door, puto?" he asked.

        "Because it's hot." I state, explaining what should be readily
apparent to even a small child.

        I was about to comment at great length on his rude honking as well,
and about flies and honey and vinegar, but he started looking really hard at
me, trying to look tough.  I stared back at him as if to say, come ahead,
square; let's fucking dance.  He summarily turned and left to play soccer with
his homeboys, totally punking out like a bitch, unknowingly saving himself
from yards of pain and death and the agony of the Great Reaping.  After a
while, Flack called us with the location of the barbecue, so we rolled out

        The barbecue was kewl, I drank some beers, and met up with this dude
from my school.  Some guy thought he recognized me, and I sort of feel bad for
playing along with it, but it was rather amusing.

        That night, Vegas ate my radiator.  Smack felt all guilty and shit
because he was driving when the radiator blew, but it wasn't his fault.  It
was probably the temperature change as the sun went down.

        We left my car at the Honda dealer, and went to the Riviera via the
Flackster's truck and good natured 1337ness.  It was a hassle and a half.
(Thanks again Flack!)

        I resigned myself to sleeping in the car that night, but it was too
fucking hot.  I refilled it with water, and coasted it to the other Honda
dealer after traffic died at around 2am.  I had to get it to the other dealer,
because the one that we parked at didn't have a service and repair shop.  I
was really freaking out because without my car, I am fucked.

        Diskrez called me at about 2 and rolled over and got me. (Thanks again

        The next morning, I called and got my radiator swapped for 600 bux,
totally wiping out my drinking money.  I missed Myles's speech, and Flack's,
and most of Valsmith's and Chamuco's.  Also, I was late at going down and
printing up and distributing the flyers.  But I did manage to get some and
print them out, and GD and TalonPrime distributed them.  And I got to meet
hella people from Bovine Dawn; that was the awesomeness.

        We then went to this rad party at Lizzie's, where he showed this pilot
to his new kick-ass show on penetration testing, where they broke into a car
dealership and stole a kewl car and some documents.  (Also got to talk to my
girlfriend [RubberQueen] YAY! )

        After that, we went to Krave and I got kind of hammered and met
Valsmith, Chamuco, and Delchi.  The rest is kind of blurry, but there was a
cool video feed playing, and some rad music.  Diskrez and ReZEN and that other
dude with no handle almost got into a fight at Krave, but the guy wussed out
like the soccer dude from the previous day.  (Maybe they are related?  Or is
being a Nancy-boy and backing out of fights that you try to start like a Vegas
pastime or something?)

        Oracle GD and Smack snuck into Krave like the 802.11Gangsters that
they are, with the help of Snowchyld, a
Star-Trek-hating-lockpicking-british-1337sauce-haxor.  Oxy got totally
trashed, and got kicked out of Krave for urinating on the wall like he likes
to do.  I don't think that's a big deal or anything, but other people get all
uptight about it.

        So I left and found Diskrez, and we got drunk at casinos.  There was a
beer-pong competition somewhere after that, and o1orin was there, and it was

        The next day, I met Dark Sorcerer (who is totally cool) and his
awesome roommate.  I got my book signed by people, and got a book signed by
Myles for Lupo.  After that, I went to Sketchcow's talk, then to Arrakis's
talk, and it was pretty kewl.

        I went to this Star Trek thing at the Hilton with Trammel and brought
him this chick that he met earlier, but who's phone number he had n00bsauced.
So he owes me his firstborn or whatever.  Or his immortal soul.

        Then I drove home, and drove the wrong way for 40 miles on a shitty
highway, nearly pased out, and my brain turned to mush again.  Now I am back
here in my home typing this.  It sucked leaving early, because I was really
having fun at that point.  All of the shittiness that happened was worth
meeting all of the people that I met.

I plan on flying to the next Defcon.

<3 you all



                      ((( +++---+++ FLACK +++---+++ )))

        Las Vegas is a well-greased, autonomous machine whose source of fuel
is people's wallets and souls (in that order).  As my fellow friends and
hackers began arriving in Sin City for Defcon XV, I had already spent the past
seven days generously donating large portions of both my wallet and my soul to
the city's coal chamber.


        The first official point of business was the Thursday night Toxic BBQ,
the cookout where I was to meet up with Kemikal (cDc-NSF) and Smack (cDc-NSF).
After checking in at the Stratosphere and registering at Defcon, I cruised
over to Sunset Park in search of friends and food.  While I quickly found the
food, Kemikal and Smack had been waiting for hours in the wrong location; a
few phone calls later and the three of us converged at the BBQ site.  Upon
arrival, we were informed that the party was short on ice.  Ten minutes later,
I re-arrived, this time with ten bags of ice in tow.  The frozen bags were
much appreciated and were donated in the name of the c0w.  Aww yeah.

        The BBQ's demographics were not surprising; the park consisted of a
couple hundred people mostly draped in shorts, black t-shirts and baseball
caps.  As I made laps around and through the crowd, I overheard conversations
ranging from "somewhat technical" to "super technical." Nothing like
discussing the finer points of encryption over a few burgers and brews.

        As time passed, I began having more and more fun.  I struck up a
conversation with a couple of locals (whose names escape me) and we talked
about everything from racing cars to local property values.  The guys at the
table next to us offered us their extra burgers and pork chops.  There was an
overall general feeling of comradery and kinship that far surpassed anyone's
specific skills or experience -- which made it all the more depressing when,
inevitably, local police showed up and shut down the party.  Despite a lack of
loud music, underage drinking or general rowdiness, the cops gave everyone 30
minutes to disperse the area.  I guess black t-shirts are scary.

        Word at the park was that everyone was heading to the EFF party back
at the Riviera, so that's where I decided to go.  Halfway there, I got a phone
call from Kemikal informing me that water was pouring out of his radiator.
Not good.  After dumping several bottles of water into Kem's disabled Honda,
we were able to limp it along to the local Honda dealership.

        Kemikal and Smack ended up cruising in my truck back to the Riviera.
The EFF party was $35 a person which was about $30 more than any of us were
willing to spend.  After retreating to the Riviera's food court and waiting
for evening plans to gel, I ended up taking Kemikal back to his car so he
could camp out there and (hopefully) get his ride repaired Friday morning.
Smack hit the strip in search of a place to crash.  I went back to my hotel
room at the Stratosphere and began scripting out my speech for Friday's Defcon


        Walking into Defcon Friday morning, I experienced multimedia overload.
Projectors blasted information, images and videos on every possible wall while
house music pounded itself deep into my brain.  Shortly after checking out the
radar guns and modified wifi equipment for sale in the vendor area, I tracked
down Myles Long (cDc), and we, accompanied by Mrs. Long, continued covering
every corner of the show floor.  A couple of hours later at lunch, we met up
with half a dozen more cDc-NSF members and forum regulars.  There, Oxycolton
(cDc-NSF) disseminated his custom-made cDc/NSF/Hacktivismo badges which beamed
style.  Between my blue speaker badge and my CDC-NSF name tag, people
throughout the conference began taking notice.  During one of our food runs, I
heard a guy lean over and say to his friend, "Oh my God, CULT OF THE DEAD COW
is here."  Deservedly or not, I felt like a rock star anytime someone
acknowledged me.

        After lunch, Myles and myself met up with RaD Man (ACiD/cDc-NSF) in
the speaker's green room.  Other than briefly at lunch, this was the first
time the three of us had met in person.  Mrs. Long and Oxycolton took a couple
of pictures to capture the moment.  I have to say, I definitely felt like a
small fish standing between these two legends.

        Before I knew it, the three of us were whisked away by one of the many
Defcon Goons and led to the stage.  Fortunately, we didn't encounter any kinks
during our presentation; the laptop and slideshow ran flawlessly, and the
three of us bantered and improvised our way through the 50-minute
presentation.  On a scale of 1-10 I give our performance a 5 or 6, which was
right about what we were shooting for.

        After our panel, we were led to the "Q&A Room" where we got to talk to
people more in depth and in a more intimate setting.  After chatting with some
people from the audience for almost another hour it was time for our
departure.  After making the rounds a few more times, I departed from Defcon.
I had non-con-related dinner plans which took up a few hours of my time.
After revisiting my hotel room, I headed out to Lizzie Borden's (cDc-NSF)
rented condo.  After hooking up with the gang and hanging out for a few
minutes there, we all piled into vehicles (TalonPrime, Smack (cDc-NSF) and
Oxycolton (CDC-NSF) ended up in mine) and we made our way to the Krave Lounge
for the official cDc/NSF/Hacktivismo party.


        I didn't personally take any pictures in the Krave Lounge, although
I'm not sure my camera would have even worked on that planet.  I don't know
that clubs like the Krave exist in Oklahoma; if they do, I've not seen one.
Music thumped loudly, moving images sprayed upon the wall, and leather-clad
freax mingled with hax0rs clenching two-dollar drinks.  c0w members had a
private roped off VIP area; I mentioned to Myles that I felt like the
Godfather as people approached our couch to speak with us.  Spinning,
pleather-clad dancers had their interpretive dances interrupted by ReZEN/XOR
and Deuce McNasty's badass robot dance right through the middle of the dance
floor.  Robots 1, funky whirling dervishes, 0.

        Shortly after midnight, I snuck out of the Krave to go check on our
under-21 constituents, GreenDiamond, TalonPrime, and Smack.  The three of them
had been busy 0wning the Harley Davidson Cafe across the street.  When I
entered the restaurant, I was met by the greeter who asked me how many were in
my party.

        "I'm actually looking for some friends of mine," I said.

        "If you're looking for Smack, he left," she offered.

        At that moment I could not decide which was more impressive:  the fact
that the girl knew who or what a Smack was, or that she somehow knew that's
who I was looking for.  Yet another unsolved cosmic mystery.  And apparently
while I was checking up on our minor members, they themselves were busy
sneaking into the Krave via an unsecured back door.  They didn't need me or
anyone else checking up on them.

        While crossing the street I noticed a swarm of bicycle-riding
security-esque dudes pedaling circles around my truck, which was parked
directly under a giant neon sign that read "HARLEY DAVIDSON PARKING ONLY."  As
my fear of having my truck towed grew I returned to it, planning to move it to
a better parking spot.  Unfortunately the comforts of my ride lulled my eyes
shut long enough to convince me that returning to the hotel was probably in
my best interest at that point.  Jack Flack always escapes; and so I did.


        On Saturday, Defcon really began rolling.  I attended Valsmith's and
Delchi's Offensive Computing presentation and got a chance to speak with
Delchi (and Jason Scott) after the presentation.  Jason Scott's presentation
may have been the most entertaining of the weekend.  While not as technical as
many of the other speeches, his stage presence and storytelling ability rose
above all others at the show.  Highly entertaining.  Other interesting
presentations I attended that day included Arakkis' personal privacy
presenation and Squidly's information on hacking consoles (which was a little
light in meat, but interesting nonetheless).

        The real highlight of Saturday was the official cDc dinner down at the
hotel cafe.  In attendence were TalonPrime, Olorin, Oxycolton, Trammel,
GreenDiamond, Kemikal, Rezen, Snowchyld, Deuce McNasty, Diskrez, Smack,
Dark Sorcerer, Myles Long, and myself (Flack).  I don't know if I can
accurately describe the feeling at the table; brotherhood, perhaps.  It felt
like every cross word or hurt feeling that anyone had ever experienced on the
forums was wiped clean.  For the very first time, I felt like part of a team.

        Saturday night culminated with the TCP/IP drinking game, which
involved members of the audience attempting to stump a panel of networking
experts with impossibly difficult trivia questions.  When I heard questions
like, "What are the 11 states of a TCP packet?"  I knew I was out of my
league.  Other questions included naming specific RPCs that dealt with
different aspects of networking, and other trivia such as, "Who wrote

        Again, after having spent 10+ days in Vegas, I felt the weight of the
trip upon my shoulders.  I got up to walk around and try to wake up but the
allure of a fuzzy blanket and a quiet room was too much to resist.


        My first order of business Sunday morning was to check out of the
Stratosphere.  I pulled my truck around to an area clearly marked "Loading
Zone."  As I exited my truck a snooty bellhop informed me that I was parked
in a no parking zone.  I pointed at the loading zone sign and he rolled his
eyes at me.  When I made my way back down with my bags, the same bellhop
instructed me to "please stay on the sidewalk."  Leaving the sidewalk had
never even crossed my mind, but when he said that my temper exploded and I did
exactly that, changing my path 90 degrees and stomping directly through the
Stratosphere's small flower bed, dragging my suitcases through the flowers
behind me.  Unfortunately, I had just trampled through a large rosebush which
clawed my shins like one of Siegfried and Roy's white tigers.

        It was at that exact moment that I realized the feeling was mutual; I
was officially done with Las Vegas, and she was done with me.

        After making one last trek through Defcon (and picking up the few
unsold copies of _Commodork_), I hit the road.  An 1,100 mile drive is a long
way to end a long week.  The drive home was quiet, which gave me a lot of time
to reflect.  If I got anything from Defcon, it's that the people in control
are the people who are doing things.  The world has enough followers; what we
need more of is leaders.  Creators.  Writers.  Visionaries.

        After a long day of thinking and driving, my body finally gave out on
me.  Just after midnight, I pulled off the Interstate and parked in a ditch
of a dirt road, just off the beaten path.  I pulled the side of the truck up
next to a barbed wire fence, climbed into the back seat, curled up using an
old sweatshirt for a pillow, and let both my brain and body unwind for a few

        As the morning sun began to change the truck's temperature from
tolerable to steamy, I awoke.  Prying one eye open, I saw a cow looking into
my truck's window, snorting at the glass.

        Ah, Mother Bovine -- she takes care of her own.

        With just a few hours ahead of me, I poured myself behind the wheel
one last time and continued my drive directly into the warmth of the sun.

         ___________    BLATTA---NON     EST---VACCA     ___________
         \         /      \    \_            _/    /     \         /
          |A G L A|        \     \          /     /       |A G L A|
     L    ||\/X\/||    O    \    EST_   _EST     /   L    ||\/X\/||    O
          || \./ ||          \       \ /        /         || \./ ||
|\        ||_3 4_||        /|NON     cDc     NON|\        ||_3 4_||        /|
| -------._((___))_.------- |EST      |      EST| -------._((___))_.------- |
|\/)(\/\   [ x x ]   /\/)(\/|   \     |     /   |\/)(\/\   [ x x ]   /\/)(\/|
|(YHVH) >A  \   /  O< (AHIH)|    \   EST   /    |(YHVH) >A  \   /  O< (AHIH)|
|/\)(/\/  _ (' ') _  \/\)(/\|     \   |   /     |/\)(/\/  _ (' ') _  \/\)(/\|
| -------' ) (U) ( '------- |      \  |  /      | -------' ) (U) ( '------- |
|/        ||  .  ||        \|    DAEMONSEMEN    |/        ||  .  ||        \|
          || / \ ||                ELIGERE                || / \ ||
     V    ||/\X/\||    E                             V    ||/\X/\||    E
          |A D N I|          the original e-zine          |A D N I|
         /_________\         - today, tomorrow -         /_________\
      xXx  DYNASTY  xXx            FOREVER            xXx  DYNASTY  xXx
      Oooo                 xXx / RULE BOVINIA \ xXx                 / )   __
 /)(\ ( . \                                                        /  (  /  \
 \__/  )  /  Copyright (c) 2007 cDc communications and the author. \ . ) \)(/
       (_/     CULT OF THE DEAD COW is a registered trademark of    oooO
       cDc communications, 1324 Lexington Ave. #173, NY, NY 10128, USA    _
  oooO              All rights left.  Edited by Myles Long.         __   ( \
 / . ) /)(\                                                        /  \  )  \
 \  (  \__/       Save yourself!  Go outside!  Do something!       \)(/ ( . /
  \_)                     xXx   BOW to the COW   xXx                    Oooo