Ah, Defcon. The smell of the unwashed masses of hackers (oh, I’m sorry, haxors is it now?) all wearing black in 110 degree heat, and the sluts who love them. Over the years (four to be exact) I have developed a love/hate relationship with Vegas and the Con.

The Love and Hate:
Vegas…God damnit, the city is akin to my morals. Hookers, strippers, and gambling all in one place. To top it all off smoking and drinking are not only encouraged, but endorsed! Well, all these things do occur there…just not in the place where the Con is held. What the fuck is that? The freaking airport has slot machines, but the Alexis Park doesn’t have anything. Plus, it’s located way the hell away from anything decent. The girls not wearing panties at the Hard Rock Saturday night not withstanding, there is nothing within reasonable walking distance worth seeing. Speaking of girls not wearing panties, while the Con had a number of new bitches to look at, only a few would actually hold up outside of the vortex of virtual reality created during the 3 days of the Con. Seriously fellow pimps, the hoes you were trying to bag with your wasted time, energy, and cash (I’m guilty too) probably should have had one put over their heads. As is tradition, it never fails that these are the same chicks that will run around the pool nekid at 3am causing a scene.

As for the Con itself, I find myself going to less and less presentations and drinking more and more. Let’s face it, at the end of the day, I go there to manage my gang of Hacker Jeopardy gurus and maybe take off some of Kitty’s clothes. Covert Channel, made up of Stef, Darren and Jon can win the competition hands down on any given year…except of course, when they rig it for Poulsen’s team to win. Rig you say? Well, the previous year, I’ve been told a score keeping error prevented us from winning. This year, not only were we (and another top gun team) not called up to play, but what the hell was with the questions? Those were pussy-ass, non technical questions.

Now for all the love you can eat…. Buffets - the one saving grace that consistently satisfies. Pimping is hard work, and nothing fuels the fire better than mountains of crab legs, shrimp and prime fucking rib! Damn those were good. Of course, being a high rolling (and losing) motherfucker gets a pimp and his homeboys some comps. So, props this year goes to Caesars’s Palace. Not only do comps let you cut in front of a line of 400 people, but it gets you endless champagne during your stay. We watched the breakfast buffet turn into a lunch buffet before it was all over.

Four years now…will I go back for a 5th consecutive? In a heartbeat and twice on Sunday. Let’s face it, HOPE has been declining with each passing year. Sure, there are a few regional Cons, Cuervo Con to name one, that are a good time. However, it’s Defcon that really gets the freaks to crawl out of the woodwork and let loose a bit. So for all my bitching and moaning, I’ll be back next year.