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Hacker Culture
Let me first recapitulate two brief preludes that figure prominently in Hacker Culture:
- Around 1970 John Draper discovered that a freebie whistle included with Captain Crunch cereal sounded a tone that allowed him, as a literal whistle-blower, to take control of the phone line. Sounding the frequency of 2600 Hz, the high-pitched toy quickly sprouted a cottage industry of small electronic devices called "blue boxes" (first built by Draper) that emitted the commanding tune. Shortly thereafter, in 1971, Steven Jobs and Steven Wozniak built hordes of the boxes and sold them to students in the Berkeley dorms. Jobs and Wozniak would go on to build and found Apple computers by employing the same principle: take existing knowledge and turn it to profit by, eventually, making appropriation proprietary. (Slashdot readers are no doubt familiar with the fact that Mac OS X is not much more than an "aqualicious" -- and expensive -- wrap of FreeBSD.)
- The first personal computer was arguably the Altair. It came as a raw DIY kit that required soldering for assembly and programming to make it work. An early success in coding came in the form of Altair BASIC, a programming language adopted from mainframe systems by Paul Allen and Bill Gates. Unlike other hobbyists who shared their exploits freely, Allen and Gates decided to charge for their adaptation, but were quickly thwarted in their race to the goldmine by the sharing of software at computer clubs, an action that prompted Gates to call fellow developers thieves. For these hobbyists, the notion that programs could be secret and had to be purchased violated the tradition of programming as an ongoing collaboration. The births of our two major personal computing platforms, Mac and PC, consequently both stem from significant changes in the relations between openness and secrecy, sharing and ownership.
In Hacker Culture, Douglas Thomas provides a rewarding account of what preceded and followed these developments, charting the evolution of cracking and hacking from early yet seasoned programmers, generally found at Ivy League departments or under ARPA jurisdiction, to the demonized teenage villains of the 1990s. Although the term "hacking" has become somewhat of an umbrella misnomer to cover diverse behaviors bridging half a century, Thomas does it remarkable justice through, as he puts it, "an effort to understand hacking as an activity that is conditioned as much by its history as by the technology that it engages." To this end, he seeks to engage the role of hacking from an expansive and useful perspective, covering the hacker relationship to technology and society, representation of the hacker through both mainstream media and outlets such as TAP, Phrack and 2600, as well as the juridical construction of the criminalized hacker, which is basically a fancy term for Kafkaesque travesties of justice (the cases of Kevin Mitnick and Chris Lamprecht are analyzed in depth).
Hacker Culture is thankfully not a stylized look at subculture, as an embryonic cult aspiring to become marketable culture, but rather a much broader view of the increasingly computerized networks that comprise society. It is an intelligent exploration beyond the package-design boxes of software, covering our documents, and the product-design casings of computers, housing our institutions. Seen from, or via, an autonomous, skilled perspective on the command line, Hacker Culture provides an indispensable insight into a history of computing that it has become increasingly important to understand for computer users of all levels and abilities. As such, it is perhaps best suited, and intended, for those who do not frequent sites like this, but even pundits with Slashdot bookmarked since it was listed in the root will presumably enjoy the thoughtful analysis Thomas brings to the subject.
A lingering criticism, not exactly directed at the book, is that this publication truly marks the entry of the "hacker" into the realm of academia, where this figure will be dissected ad nauseam along with other minority reports concerned with the so-called radical fringes. Earlier blockbusters on the hacker topic, like Steven Levy's eponymous Hackers: Heroes of the Computer Revolution from 1994, had a certain "sensationalist" appeal that, akin to William Gibson's Neuromancer, drew more of their leitmotifs from classic frontier westerns than cultural criticism. Instead of reading about jacking in and cracking from these primal sources, we got a ton of obligatory theory that read between the lines and reported on the findings at twice the length. Thomas, although he writes both eloquently and lucidly in an entertaining style, is fundamentally connecting the dots of theoretical writing as a second-generation commentator, frequently quoting Levy, for example, and at times the discussion embarks on rather redundant pontifications as a result. (Recall how you can guess the subject of most connect-the-dots outlines, while it usually takes a child careful tracing to number 147 or so before a shriek of joy recognizes the rabbit.) Such misgivings, which are essentially more inspired by the predictable rhetorical mode of academia than this book, are however relatively minor compared to the welcome prospects of actually having some core ideas about free information and open-source computing distributed to a wider audience.
A question remains about what will happen to the figure of the hacker now that we have had, and discussed, both Matthew Broderick, in Hollywood's War Games, and Kevin Mitnick, in jail. In Hacker Culture, both lay claim to capture and coach the collective imagination with regards to what informed autonomy means and the paybacks it receives. Perhaps the future, following Hacker Culture, will prepare a better balance between revered stardom, obscene bankrolls, criminal records and lone isolation cells?
Reviewer Are Flagan has trouble remembering his own passwords. You can purchase Hacker Culture from bn.com. Slashdot welcomes readers' book reviews -- to see your own review here, read the book review guidelines, then visit the submission page.
on the "First Posters" culture?
fp biznatches
Wynn waited nervously by the gate, watching for a face that she'd only seen in electronic images before. The stream of travellers deplaning seemed endless; Wynn was abruptly afraid that Di had changed her mind at the last moment. Her fear was unfounded, however. One of the last women from the plane proved to be the real life image of Wynn's favorite gif files. An eager smile adorned Di's face as she nearly skipped from the jetway. Spotting Wynn, she strode lightly across the waiting area, stopping before her virtual lover. Hands twisting the hem of her black skirt nervously, Di looked up into Wynn's face.
"I was afraid you might not come," said Wynn, at a loss for words now that her paramour was finally here.
"The thought never crossed my mind," Di said. Then, blushing, she added, "Not much, at least."
Wynn took both of Di's hands in hers. A man carrying a garment bag gave them a strange look, but both women ignored him. "What do you want to do first?" Wynn asked.
Di smiled. "Find somewhere more private than the airport gate?"
Wynn nodded, smiling back, and led the other woman toward the baggage claim. Di glanced around nervously, realized that the latenight airport was pretty much deserted. "I've got something to show you," she whispered into Wynn's ear as they walked.
Wynn glanced at her questioningly. Di grasped Wynn's hand in hers and led it beneath the bottom of her skirt. Wynn caught her breath sharply as she felt the smooth, naked buttock beneath the bouncing material.
"I told you I was going to," teased Di.
"That's one up for you," Wynn said, grinning. She squeezed the other girl's rear once before reluctantly removing her hand. Di sighed, resisting the urge to turn and press her lips to the other woman's. Wynn gave her a knowing look, the wide smile still covering her face.
"Are we going to your house?" asked Di. The pair was seated in the front seat of Wynn's car, baggage thrown in the back.
"Of course," answered Wynn. "But I've got something to do first." Leaning over, she wrapped one arm around Di's shoulder and pressed her lips firmly to the other girl's.
At that first slight contact both women felt like a fireball had ignited between them. The air around them around them seemed to cave in, forcing their bodies closer, arms tightening as they fought frantically to fuse their lips together. Wynn felt Di's tongue slide into her mouth and gave a silent sigh. A small eternity passed as they savored the taste of each other's mouths in the abandoned parking garage, oblivious and uncaring of any passerby. When they finally broke, Di leaned back in her seat, eyes closed, breathing heavily.
Wynn wasn't quite finished, however. "I've got something to show you, now," she said, a mischevious smile spreading across her face. When Di's eyes opened again, Wynn lifted her sweater up to her neck in one smooth motion. Beneath it, her nipples were already hardening at the tips of her uncovered breasts. Di's eyes nearly popped out of her head.
"I told you I would," Wynn mimicked. Di didn't answer -- instead, she leaned forward and licked tentatively at the exposed breast. A shudder rippled through Wynn's body as she watched the tip of Di's tongue make the barest contact with her nipple. She grasped Di's head with both hands and pulled the other woman tighter to her breast, crying aloud when Di's mouth opened and sucked hard at the tender flesh. Di's hand flew to Wynn's other breast as her tongue laved the stiff bud in her mouth. After a moment Di pulled her head back, the captive breast distending as the suction from her mouth kept it trapped. When it finally popped free Wynn's nipple was swollen and glistening. Di attacked Wynn's other breast hungrily, and in a moment a series of convulsions shot through Wynn's body. Di straightened up in her seat, amazed.
"That's three for me," panted Wynn. She pulled her sweater back down, shuddering again as the material scraped against her hyper-sensitive breasts.
Di laughed. "What do you mean, three?"
"One for not wearing a bra, one because I kissed you first, and one because you didn't believe me that my nipples were sensitive enough to give me an orgasm."
"But one more for me," Di said, smiling. "I bet that we wouldn't make it home first, remember?"
Wynn started the car and released the emergency brake. "It's still three to two," she said. She gave her online lover a wicked smile. "You know what that means."
Di looked uncertain for a fleeting second, then she glanced at Wynn's still-heaving chest and the smile returned to her face. "I guess we'd better find a place to pay up," she said.
Di looked down at the top of Wynn's head with lust-filled eyes, one hand holding a near-empty glass of wine, the other hanging loosely over the arm of her chair. Between her naked legs kneeled Wynn, head moving back and forth slightly as her lips and tongue worked at Di's heated core. Di's back arched occasionally, uncontrollably, as Wynn's tongue swiped at her exposed clit. The kneeling woman's ass swayed invitingly, drawing Di's gaze and illiciting a Dip moan. Pushing Di's legs a bit further apart, Wynn kissed her way down one thigh and licked briefly at the inside of her lover's knee.
"It was very nice of you to pass on the win," murmured Di. She groaned again as Wynn's mouth returned upward, one broad stroke covering Di's outer lips. Driving her tongue Dip into Di's body, Wynn trailed her long fingernails down the insides of Di's thighs.
"I thought it appropriate for your first time," said Wynn, lifting her head momentarily from Di's dripping midsection. Di gently but firmly pushed her friend's head back into place, eyes shutting slowly.
"Oh, yes," moaned Di after a few more seconds. "Oh, yes, yes, yes!" She pulled her knees up to her chest, thighs flattening her breasts as she attempted to give Wynn even greater access to her convulsing nether region. Her legs began to shake uncontrollably and she screamed out loud. Wynn felt the other woman's inner muscles clench and release, once, then twice. Her body seemed ready to burst into flame; the skin was hot to the touch. Suddenly, every muscle in Di's body went taut, then a series of tremors shook her frame and she went limp in the chair, feet returning to the floor.
Wynn rocked backward to a sitting position on the floor before Di's chair, arms propped against the floor behind her. Di just sat weakly, the wineglass threatening to slip from her grasp. "I'm guessing you liked that," Wynn said. She smiled, licking her lips teasingly.
Di's hand went to her clit absentmindedly, then her eyes lifted as if she'd had a sudden renewal of energy. "Now I want to like something else," she said softly. Slithering out of the chair, she landed on her knees between Wynn's legs and pushed the other woman back onto the carpet.
"I've waited so long for this," Wynn whispered, half to herself. Di crouched over her on hands and knees, regarding the other woman's face intently for a moment before lowering her head. Her tongue brushed against the tip of Wynn's nose, then traced a line across the crease of her lips. Di's hanging breasts swayed back and forth, her taut nipples barely grazing Wynn's.
"Oh, I could fall in love with you," said Wynn as Di pushed herself toward the prone woman's feet, lips kissing and nibbling at the skin of her neck. Di paused momentarily to bury her face between Wynn's breasts, hands cupping the soft orbs to her cheeks. Thinking back to the moments in the car, Di swirled her tongue around one nipple while teasing the other with her fingertips. When Wynn's breathing became more ragged Di continued her downward journey, stopping again to tease her lover's bellybutton with her tongue.
By the time Di reached her ultimate goal Wynn's hands were gripping the carpet spasmodically. Di reached out tentatively with her tongue, wetting Wynn's clit slightly. A sharp "Oh!" sounded from above, encouraging Di to try more. She wrapped her lips around the tiny bud and sucked hard, pinching it lightly with her mouth. Wynn's fingers curled into fists and her head turned back and forth as Di sucked at her sex greedily.
"How'm I doing?" asked Di teasingly. Wynn's buttocks rose from the floor as she strove to push herself back onto Di's mouth. The other woman obliged, nuzzling the wet slit between Wynn's thighs before sliding her tongue inside.
"Oh, Di!" Wynn cried, her hips rotating in a circular motion. Di's tongue thrashed back and forth inside Wynn's body and her hands reached underneath to squeeze the cheeks of Wynn's ass. "God, Di, oh God!" A low growl emanated from Di's throat, the vibrations transferring through her lips to caress Wynn's sex. Suddenly, Di's tongue withdrew from Wynn's core and returned to her clit, one wet, soft organ grinding against the quivering little bud. Wynn's body convulsed in a more intense replay of her earlier orgasm in the parking garage and a her thighs were abruptly covered with a flood of liquid. Di craned her neck downward to lap eagerly at the explosion; her mouth was filled with an indescribably sweet sensation. She drove her tongue back between Wynn's nether lips and was instantly rewarded with another orgasm. Gripping Wynn's ass tightly, Di continued to lick and suck until Wynn's body stopped shuddering. Rolling over onto her back, Di lay beside her virtual lover and sighed.
"That was wonderful," breathed Wynn. She propped herself up on one elbow, then reached over and caressed one of Di's breasts.
Di smiled and covered Wynn's hand with her own, squeezing her own nipple. "Let's be wonderful all weekend," she said, and pulled Wynn close for another kiss.
Hi my name is Are Flagan and I'm a poseur. Notice the language used, pretty smart, huh? I had my thesaurus out the whole time(the dictionary too). I also feel the need to pick nits and pull leitmotifs out of my ass. I'm cool worship me.
So please fuck me in the ass. Pretty please?
I just heard some sad news on talk radio - Horror/Sci Fi writer Stephen King was found dead in his Maine home this morning. There weren't any more details. I'm sure everyone in the Slashdot community will miss him - even if you didn't enjoy his work, there's no denying his contributions to popular culture. Truly an American icon.
what a load
*yawn*
good for a newbie but better books out there on the subject.
Can anyone help me write a book about it?!!?
Anyway, I think the author meant that Levy wrote a book about hackers, the heroes of the computer revolution, and called it "Hackers: Heroes of the Computer Revolution"
What I'm listening to now on Pandora...
Since the story on ESRI was rejected, I am asking all Linux scientists who use GIS systems to follow this link to take a survey in support of Linux development.
"Rocky Rococo, at your cervix!"
I really need to poop. Unfortunately I cannot use a public restroom to do that and it's a 45 minute drive home. Any suggestions from other hackers?
nt sorry everyone just useless post so i can read this later when i'm not drunk and going to class
GENERATION O98346: The first time you see this, copy it into your sig and remove a random number from the generation. T