Wednesday, February 9, 2005

ShmooCon end

Richard Bejtlich described it much better (hint: 3 links) than I could.

To add to what Richard has said:

  • Brian was pressed for time towards the end so he started talking faster (syllables and inflections intact). So much so that only those of us from NY could understand him.
  • There were some shenanagins at the conference but not enough to involve evictions or law enforcement. (Those involved will have to incriminate themselves.)
  • Richard's picture of Renderman wearing his warpack doesn't do it justice. In the picture, it's disassembled, missing the two antennas that stick up about two feet higher than that hat, missing the cables, and missing the other hand-held antenna (that's only one he's holding). Someone out there has a better picture.
  • Here's a version of the story about the vulnerability that the Shmoo Group demo'd during the closing of the Con.

On behalf of the entire conference, I'd like to apologize to the religious group(s) occupying the two floors (of conference rooms) above us. We're not evil, we're just drawn that way. (At least three older women ignored my attempted Jedi warning of "you don't want to go down there" and rounded the corner just in time to see the word "fuck" displayed on a large plasma screen display.) Someone in hotel booking had a sense of humor, booking the hacker convention on the bottom floor and filling in with church groups above.

Lastly, I propose a game for next year. DefCon has "Spot the Fed". Given the location and the size of the conference, spotting a Fed would have been too easy. How about we run "Spot the Author" as an east coast game? I was able to meet/talk to/drink beer with Jason Scott and Richard Thieme. I molested Johnny Long for an autograph and would have liked to meet Richard Bejtlich and a few others. Rather than throwing a party at a club across town, have the authors hold court in the lobby bar and pay their tab (Rumor has it that the mostly non-author liquor sponges went through $6K of free booze at the club in less than a hour.) (For the math challenged, that's a bit over $100 of alcohol per minute.).

Oh, and thanks to the bunch for fronting for those of us that were avoiding the dress code and the DC cab ride.

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