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The Humanity of ShmooCon

I’m missing the ShmooCon hacker conference for the second year in a row because of family activities. But it remains a favorite of mine for several reasons. One is how its not afraid to explore how the human condition affects the security profession.

Mood music:

For starters, ShmooCon has given Johnny Long a platform.

Long, one of the world’s foremost hackers, has given presentations on why he started Hackers for Charity, a nonprofit organization using the skills of technologists to solve technology challenges for various non-profits and provide food, equipment, job training and computer education to the world’s poorest citizens.

Besides the obvious good that comes of this, the organization has done much to humanize hackers and help the world see them as more than introverts in basements using technology to break into networks for nefarious purposes. More than ever, hackers are seen as agents of positive change. Long deserves our thanks for that, and ShmooCon deserves thanks for giving him valuable exposure.

I also appreciate how ShmooCon has showcased the gifts of those who are different.

A powerful example of that was a talk renowned security engineer Marsh Ray gave at ShmooCon 2011, where he used the fragile mental condition as the basis of a talk called “A paranoid schizophrenia-based model of data security.”  In that talk, he described working in a psychiatric hospital more than 20 years ago and getting to know Keith, a fellow who usually sat on the park bench strumming his guitar for spare change.

“Sometimes I would take a break from reading microprocessor manuals and listen,” Ray said at the time. “Keith had paranoid schizophrenia. He could explain how the world worked: ‘There is a great international conspiracy…’ he would say. Electromagnetic fields, government satellites, resonant dinner plates, you name it: He had it all figured out.”

Ray noted how Keith couldn’t trust the conflicting information coming from different parts of the brain. He knew he was vulnerable and spent much time and energy thinking about it.

“Does this not also describe our current relationship with data security?” Ray asked. “Our architectures have become so complex that they are inherently susceptible to internal schism, leaving us vulnerable to sudden manipulation by shadowy external forces.”

Ray noted that many of the things Keith predicted have come to pass. For example, including radio transmissions being monitored by satellite and underground markets emerging for the purpose of trading information.

There are many more examples from previous years. But those are the ones that really stand out for me.

Sorry to miss it this year, but I wish those who are there a fabulous, enlightening weekend.

 

ShmooCon logo

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Dear Prudence, I’m Coming For You

By the end of 2015, I made a decision: I wasn’t going to let newfound pressures and responsibilities overtake the most important things in my life. Managing the loose ends of a family business — a task I inherited when my father died in June — had done just that. It was time to stop. I asked a friend for advice, and he told me to practice prudence.

Prudence is about using reason to govern oneself. In my case, prudence means putting the added responsibilities in their proper place, behind the things that are more important, specifically my wife and children and my career.

Indeed, 2015 was about doing the best I could with the added pressures. I think I did OK, for the simple reason that I still have a pulse and can stand up. I was able to keep doing my day job well. I can’t say I would have achieved the same results if this all happened a decade ago.

But 2016 is going to be about taking my life back.

The need to do that came into clearer focus last night. I went to a wake for a mentor from my North Shore Community College days and ran into several people who were part of that circle 25 years ago. We talked about what we were up to these days and the twists and turns our lives had taken. It reminded me of how hard I’ve worked since then to get to where I am now. If I turn my back now, I’ll be putting all those years to waste. I’m not going to let that happen.

I’m not tossing the new responsibilities aside, however. But from here on out, they’re taking a backseat to my real work.

Reset Button

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Thanks for Everything, Lisa Milso

I spent my high school years angry, unhinged, unmotivated and unsure of how to live my life. So, before attending Salem State University (then Salem State College), I spent a couple of years trying to find myself at North Shore Community College (NSCC).

I took classes mostly at the Lynn campus because it was five minutes from my house. I spent more time in the smoking room than I did in class, and cared more about my long hair and clothes than about what the future might hold. It was a confusing time but also a fun time, which I needed. Indeed, the experience did allow me to sort things out, and I have many people to thank for that — especially Lisa Milso, director of student life.

She was a voice of reason and motivation as I delved into all manner of activities, including a stint on the student government council. She touched countless lives in similar fashion, so I was sad to learn that she passed away Dec. 24.

I’m not sure how she died, but I know from the college’s Facebook page that as an organ donor, she saved seven lives on Christmas Day. That was Lisa, helping people to the end.

The statement from NSCC said in part:

Lisa loved NSCC and our students and proudly served the college for over 28 years. Through her many roles at the college Lisa has personally touched the lives of countless students and alumni and her absence will be deeply missed.

She held that post for 28 years, which is amazing in this day and age, where people switch jobs every few years.

She was a master volunteer, organizing student trips to New Orleans as part of NSCC’s “Labor of Love” initiative, in which students and faculty traveled to New Orleans to help in the continuing effort to rebuild neighborhoods destroyed by Hurricane Katrina a decade ago.

She was a rare gem, the type you can’t replace.

But when I think of all the lives she touched, I know she’ll live on in many people — from those who received her organs to the countless people she helped steer toward productive lives.

Thanks for what you did for me, Lisa. Thanks for what you did for everyone.

Obituary: MILSO, Lisa Anne Of Lexington, Dec. 24, 2015. Lisa is survived by her mother, Theresa Marie Milso (Pace) of Lexington, and by her aunts, uncles, cousins and friends. Director of Student Life at North Shore Community College. Funeral from the Douglass Funeral Home, 51 Worthen Rd. Lexington Monday Jan. 4 at 9am followed by a Mass of Christian burial at St. Brigid Church, Lexington at 10am. Relatives and friends are kindly invited to attend. Visiting hours Sunday from 4pm to 7pm. Donations in her memory may be made to the Lisa Milso Memorial Scholarship Fund, Attn. Tatiana Espinal, Director of Development at tespanoi@northshore.edu. Interment private.

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4 Problems with Krypt3ia’s Krampus List

I like Scot “Krypt3ia” Terban. The security researcher has a crotchety communication method I enjoy, and I read his posts a lot. I especially enjoy when he goes after security vendors for FUD (fear, uncertainty and doubt).

So when he released his annual Krampus List — a naughty list for the security community — I read it and laughed a lot.

But as I read through it, I found some of it mean spirited. By the end I found myself in a familiar quandary: How could I laugh and be disgusted at the same time? My brain has always been a mass of contradictions, and this is just another example.

There’s a razor-thin line between good-natured jabs and outright venom. From my perspective, picking on Boris Sverdlick because he “took his third job in two years and moved his family across the country for the third time” was a good-natured ribbing. He has switched jobs a lot and there’s nothing wrong with that. You gotta go where your heart takes you. But when his adventures are chronicled on Facebook, his friends — myself included — like to pick on him, as good friends often do. He gives as good as he gets.

Picking on Kelly Lum (@aloria) for narcissistic drama and a lack of contributing to the community? That was pretty shitty. Sure, her posts can be dramatic, but the same can be said about most of us. Hell, my posts have been all about family deaths and unfinished family business all year. I’m sure some of you don’t like it, but that’s what has been on my mind and you’re welcome to unfriend me any time. Kelly has been open and honest about dealing with mental illness. She’s done her day job well despite all that and has set a good example for the rest of us. Whine all you want about her not contributing to the community. In my book, the example she sets is a big contribution.

But there are bigger problems with Scot’s list:

  • It’s made up of anonymous submissions. It’s easy to rip on someone when nobody knows who you are: You don’t have to back your comments up. You don’t have to worry about being attacked in kind. That’s awfully convenient — and cowardly.
  • People who make the comments almost certainly spread their own drama. The worst hypocrisy is the kind where the hypocrite doesn’t show their face.
  • People love to bitch about “a lack of contribution” to the security community. I find that odd, because if you’re doing your job well, you are contributing to the community.
  • Terban endorses all the comments. Though it’s made up of anonymous submissions, Terban collects them and distributes them, essentially endorsing the mudslinging. When a lot of people are criticized for talking shit and spreading drama, Terban is spraying bullets inside a glass house.

Infosec is hard. The people it attracts can be difficult to work with, myself included. Since we’re connected to each other by Facebook and Twitter, we’re exposed to each other’s personal drama. None of us are perfect. We all have different ways of contributing to the community, and what’s useless to one person is valuable to another.

Laugh all you like at the Krampus List. But if you don’t see some of yourself in there, you might be part of the problem.

Cyber Krampus Logo

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Pearl Harbor Reflection: Why Does God Let This Happen?

I know some people who hate God right now. One lost a child to illness. Several have simply had a bad run of luck in recent years. They can’t understand why an all-loving God lets bad things happen to them.

I used to be there: When my brother died or when my friend Sean Marley  died. In the aftermath of those events, I wasn’t on speaking terms with God. At other points in my life, like my struggle to contain OCD and addictive behavior, I was talking to God, but nothing coming from my mouth was making much sense. I was rattling off prayers designed to make my life safer and more comfortable.

My relationship with God has gone through changes in recent years. I no longer pray for the safety of everyone I know. I just pray we’ll all have the wisdom to live our lives the way we’re supposed to for whatever length of time we’re going to be around. I’ve come to see life’s body blows not as a punishment but as situations we’re supposed to work through to come out stronger.

To those who ask why it’s worth having faith when there’s always the chance that there’s really nothing there after death, I ask, what’s the alternative? Even if there’s nothing on the other side, I’d still rather live by beliefs that include treating those around me right and striving for good. I’d still rather strive for a clean soul, though I admittedly have a lot of work to do on that one. If there’s nothing on the other side, at least I’ll have taken a shot at being a better person.

But as I’ve said, I do believe.

As part of that, there’s something else I believe: The bad things we go through — and we all go through the bad — is a test. I don’t think certain things are deliberately planned out, like a natural disaster, the death of a loved one or the break-up of a relationship. But I do think we’re tasked with coming out of these things as better people who can come through when others need our help later on. That’s what Mister Rogers was talking about right after 9-11 when he suggested children always watch for the helpers in the face of disaster.

In the movie “Pearl Harbor,” there’s a scene where FDR meets with his military advisors and expresses his desire to strike back at Japan. His advisors give him all the reasons why it can’t be done. Then he mentions the polio that left him in a wheelchair and how he’s spent every hour of his life wondering why God put him in the chair.

Too dramatic? Maybe. This was a product of Hollywood and the scene was probably only loosely based on what really happened.

Still, I can totally picture FDR saying those things. He did say them at various times of his presidency.

His faith helped him deal with some of the biggest challenges mankind had faced up to that point. In that war and wars since then, faith has helped a lot of people push forward with the tasks that terrified them.

They chose to believe despite all the terrible things that happen around here.

So do I.

 fdr_pearl_harbor

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Don’t Be Embarrassed When People Rescue You

I was recently talking to a friend who has had a shitty couple of years, with illness and death in the family. He noted that he’s gotten a lot of support from friends, family and colleagues along the way and that he’s embarrassed about it.

I get where he’s coming from.

Mood music:

Whenever I’ve experienced the things he is going through, I’ve felt a little embarrassed when people come to me with sympathy and offers of support. Some of it is because of pride, and some of it is a fear that people don’t see you as being able to deal with the tough stuff.

As I’ve grown older, though, two things have gotten clearer:

  • If people are supporting you, it’s usually because you’ve supported them at difficult times in their lives, and they are repaying it. It means you’ve touched some lives and made a positive difference. So when you hit hard times, the people you’ve touched feel personally invested in your well being.
  • We all go through tough times and remember that support from others helped us along. And when we can return the favor, it feels good.

This dude has certainly touched a lot of lives. Everyone in our circle has deep affection for him, and he’s earned our support.

Whether I’ve earned the support people have given me along the way is for others to determine. But I’d like to think I have.

To my friend: Hang in there. When people reach out, know that it’s because you’re respected and loved.

Candlelight Yoga

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Nothing Brings Out the Self-Righteous Like a Terrorist Attack

Whenever we see terrible things like the ISIS attacks in Paris, something happens on Facebook: Many people become experts on religion and politics, and still more people get anal when people don’t observe a tragedy exactly as they would. Terror attacks bring out the best in some people. In others, it brings out self-righteous tomfoolery.

Mood music:

https://youtu.be/IN9REo4Le6g

Whatever your political and religious beliefs, the attacks prove that your agenda is the correct one. One guy posted so many memes about Obama being a secret agent for ISIS and the so-called Muslim brotherhood that I almost believed it after a while.

If you had the French flag superimposed over your profile picture, you were a racist for ignoring the attacks that happened a day before in Lebanon. You were an anti-Semite because you didn’t include Israel, which is attacked every day.

If you tried to make the point that terrorists don’t represent the whole of Islam, you got shouted down by the right wing for not accepting that Islam is in itself an evil, savage religion.

If you dared to point out that there is in fact evil in the world and that the bad guys must be destroyed, you got shouted down by the left wing for being intolerant and politically incorrect.

Where do my views fit into all this? As usual, somewhere in the middle.

I don’t believe Islam is in itself an evil religion. I know a lot of people who follow that faith and they are decent people who work hard and want what’s best for their communities. But I don’t think we can ignore the fact that far too many bad guys are twisting Islam to their evil purposes. People of Islam need to be a lot more vocal about it than they have been.

I’m not a gun-toting NRA supporter and I don’t buy into the rhetoric about liberals taking the good guys’ guns away. But I don’t think gun-control laws have helped all that much, since bad people continue to get around those laws.

I believe there is evil in the world, and there always has been. When bad guys plot to kill innocents, the good guys need to kill them first.

I believe that the best thing we can do to make a positive difference in the world is be good to other people. I believe that being good to people requires a whole lot more than putting slogans and statements on Facebook. It requires spending one’s time to do things for others, whether it’s helping them deal with a work-related challenge or a crisis in confidence and faith or helping them get food and other things a lot of us take for granted.

I believe that self-righteous people are generally assholes who have nothing better to do with their time than to put down others who disagree with them. If I ever get like that, I hope someone slaps me down hard.

I also think the vast majority of people are good. When danger strikes, we’ve seen many acts of compassion time and again.

That’s why I still have hope, even when the self-righteous pollute the Internet.

Candelight vigil for Paris

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Target’s OCD Sweater: Funny or Hurtful?

Several people have forwarded me news stories about Target getting flak over an “OCD Christmas” sweater on sale in its stores. The question: am I offended? No.

I do, however, see it as another example of the very thin line between hurtful and humorous.

Mood music:

I don’t think the sweater is particularly clever. It’s just the latest in a long line of attempted OCD humor that falls flat. I love OCD jokes when they are well done, but this doesn’t qualify.

Other OCD sufferers, however, are going to be hurt and anger.

I’ve written many posts about OCD gag gifts, particularly one about OCD hand sanitizer. They describe items that amuse the hell out of me. But I’ve also gotten feedback from readers who worried these gifts and other brands of OCD humor would only reinforce the stigma that keeps people like us in the shadows.

I firmly believe that humor is an important coping tool for someone learning to manage depressive mental disorders. Abraham Lincoln, a chronically depressed man for much of his adult life, relied on it during the darkest days of the Civil War. He reveled in telling jokes and amusing stories. It helped get him through the pain during a time before antidepressants.

But the stigma around OCD is still alive and well. I see people all the time talking about “their OCD” when they’re really talking about their Type-A personalities. That doesn’t bother me much, but I know people with OCD who get wounded by such talk. OCD behavior is still the stuff of ridicule and belittling. People will still make fun of a person’s quirks, which embarrasses and hurts that person when they inevitably find out that they’re being made fun of.

Would people find the gags funny if they were about cancer or heart disease? The truth is that we think differently about physical diseases than mental ones. We understand the ramifications of physical diseases better, making them more socially acceptable. And when a physical disease is a fatal one, we are much less tolerant of jokes about it. Yet people will make jokes about all manner of things for all kinds of reasons.

Most health issues need to be addressed with a combination of sober education and humor. People need to know the suffering real OCD brings about, just as people need to know the anguish a cancer patient experiences.

But we need to laugh at our conditions once in a while, too, because the laughter makes the disease appear smaller, if only for a few moments.

OCD: Obsessive Christmas Disorder

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A Tribute to “Silent Segal”

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my maternal grandfather, Louis Segal. This decorated veteran died 19 years ago, and I keep thinking of the things I wish we could talk about today.

Mood music:

Papa, as we called him, asked me to take him for a ride to the bank the evening before he died. He got into the car and declared that he felt like “the last rose of summer.” I think he knew he was about to go, and wanted to pull out some cash to buy the family breakfast one last time. In the car, he told me and Erin about life as a kid.

The next afternoon, he took one last deep inhale, and that was that. He died in his favorite living room recliner after a very pleasant morning with family. I wasn’t there, but was told about it. He gave one of my cousins a ten-dollar bill just for the hell of it. I don’t remember where I was, but I can tell you that wherever I was, I was thinking about no one but myself. That’s how I was back then.

Papa loved to chomp on a good cigar and eat things that were bad for him. It used to make me angry, but today I think he was just trying to live life to the fullest he could. He had parachuted into France ahead of the D-Day invasion in June of 1944. He was at the Battle of the Bulge that December. He took a bullet or two in the leg in Korea. He boxed in the Army and they called him “Silent Segal” because he would take it on the chin quietly. He also beat down his opponents quietly.

I often wonder what he’d have thought of the movie “Saving Private Ryan,” which came out two years after he died. The beginning of the film is bone-chilling and almost beautiful in its rawness. You see scenes of soldiers lying on the beach with their intestines hanging out and you try with all your mental might to grasp what it must have felt like to be in the middle of that chaos. My grandfather was there, and could have given me the appropriate description.

He liked watching M.A.S.H., as I do. If he were here today, we could laugh over some of the show’s funnier moments. He’d also tell me all the ways the show was bullshit when stacked against reality.

I definitely appreciated him when he was around. He was my Papa and I loved him, after all. But I wish I had engaged him more about the stories of his military service. I was a young punk back then, and like all young punks I was too busy thinking of myself to spend more time with him.

The lesson of this post if to appreciate the older people in your life. Hug them. Learn from them. Enjoy their stories.

And, if you’re into it, smoke a cigar with them.

Thanks, Papa, for your many years of service.