f view.

The meeting of FCIC was held at the Scottsdale Hilton Resort.
Scottsdale is a wealthy suburb of Phoenix, known as "Scottsdull" to
scoffing local trendies, but well-equipped with posh shopping-malls and
manicured lawns, while conspicuously undersupplied with homeless
derelicts. The Scottsdale Hilton Resort was a sprawling hotel in
postmodern crypto-Southwestern style. It featured a "mission bell
tower" plated in turquoise tile and vaguely resembling a Saudi minaret.

Inside it was all barbarically striped Santa Fe Style decor. There was
a health spa downstairs and a large oddly-shaped pool in the patio. A
poolside umbrella-stand offered Ben and Jerry's politically correct
Peace Pops.

I registered as a member of FCIC, attaining a handy discount rate, then
went in search of the Feds. Sure enough, at the back of the hotel
grounds came the unmistakable sound of Gail Thackeray holding forth.

Since I had also attended the Computers Freedom and Privacy conference
(about which more later), this was the second time I had seen Thackeray
in a group of her law enforcement colleagues. Once again I was struck
by how simply pleased they seemed to see her. It was natural that
she'd get SOME attention, as Gail was one of two women in a group of
some thirty men; but there was a lot more to it than that.

Gail Thackeray personifies the social glue of the FCIC. They could
give a damn about her losing her job with the Attorney General. They
were sorry about it, of course, but hell, they'd all lost jobs. If
they were the kind of guys who liked steady boring jobs, they would
never have gotten into computer work in the first place.

I wandered into her circle and was immediately introduced to five
strangers. The conditions of my visit at FCIC were reviewed. I would
not quote anyone directly. I would not tie opinions expressed to the
agencies of the attendees. I would not (a purely hypothetical example)
report the conversation of a guy from the Secret Service talking quite
civilly to a guy from the FBI, as these two agencies NEVER talk to
each other, and the IRS (also present, also hypothetical) NEVER TALKS
TO ANYBODY.

Worse yet, I was forbidden to attend the first conference. And I
didn't. I have no idea what the FCIC was up to behind closed doors
that afternoon. I rather suspect that they were engaging in a frank
and thorough confession of their errors, goof-ups and blunders, as this
has been a feature of