No dodging Comdex pitch

Martin Kuz

Wednesday, Nov. 17, 1999 | 10:33 a.m.

Cynics like to portray the Comdex computer trade show as a nerd invasion, an annual assault on Las Vegas by an army of pencil-necked geeks who number in the hundreds of thousands.

If that's the case, anyone who dared to pass through the intersection of Paradise Road and Convention Center Drive on Tuesday braved entry into a highly charged DMZ -- a Dweeb-Militarized Zone.

A phalanx of CD-wielding techies lined the sidewalks outside the Las Vegas Convention Center, forming a geek gauntlet to hound pedestrians. They were impossible to miss. Their skin as picket-fence white as the lab coats they wore, they sported Drew Carey spaz-glasses and a messianic gusto for accosting every person who strolled past.

Dr. Poindexter Q. Brown, taking a brief break from his patrol post, described the nerds' three-pronged mission this way: To hand out 50,000 free copies of a computer program produced by NetZero; to endlessly parrot the California company's rallying cry of free Internet access for everyone; and, above all, to score babes.

"Chicks dig guys with thick glasses and a lab coat," Brown said, uncorking a staccato laugh reminiscent of "Beavis and Butt-head." "They're checking me out."

Ho-hum. Just another day at Comdex.

The 20th edition of the world's largest computer trade show eclipses the halfway point today, offering its usual dose of the unusual to the expected 200,000 people who will attend this year. As in the past, no gimmick has proved too goofy for the 2,000 exhibitors to try to lure business their way -- just as none of them can predict whether any of their tricks will pay off.

Some of the promotional pitches, as evidenced by NetZero's nerd deployment, try to hook attendees before they even step inside the convention hall or the Sands Expo and Convention Center, the trade show's second venue.

NetZero spokesman Adam Raubfogel said the program given away by his company offers a free gateway to the Internet, ensuring users will never need to pay for the service. Distributing the computer discs outside the convention hall reflects the company's disdain for an industry push to charge for Internet access, he said.

Now for the fine print: Dr. Brown is actually 26-year-old Los Angeles resident James Wren, one of dozens of small-time actors hired by NetZero this week to hawk its program and tweak the dweeb image of Comdexters. Wren and his nerds in arms hammed away, vowing to "fight the geek fight" against the tyranny of those who would hijack the World Wide Web.

"The pocket protector has been thrown down, sir," Brown said. "We must defend the free world to keep Internet access free. We are not going to let 'The Man' hold us down."

Inside the convention center, GalaxiWorld.com appeared to play off the stereotypical image of the overeager, undersexed techie in another way. The online casino company, which has a co-branded website with Playboy magazine, trotted out 1992 Playmate of the Year Corinna Harney to sign autographs and pose for pictures.

Peter Constantaras, 39, an information technology director with a Montreal accounting firm, waited in an ever-swelling line to have his photo snapped with Harney. He admitted that his interest in GalaxiWorld went no further than a chance to slip his arm around the shoulders of an ex-Playmate.

"After you've been here for awhile and you've looked at everything, she just helps your eyes focus on something else," he said.

Harney's presence had the effect of sucking foot traffic away from other nearby exhibitors. Deter Steinmaier, manning a booth near GalaxiWorld's for Oklahoma-based Computer Factory Outlet, watched in amusement as people flocked to Harney while nobody so much as glanced his way.

Asked if he would consider flashing a little skin to bring attention to his company's display, the 46-year-old native German grinned. "No, no. That's not something I do," Steinmaier said.

Similar inhibitions were lacking in the Device Girls, a Spice Girls knock-off that performed under the National Semiconductor banner. Exposing washboard midriffs as they pranced around a small stage in imitation platform shoes and sang in imitation British accents, the quartet squealed, "Can I hear you say, 'Device up your life'?"

The reference pertained to National Semiconductor's array of high-tech products and systems. But the biggest demand for merchandise related to the Santa Clara, Calif.-based company occurred when the Device Girls flung free T-shirts into the audience.

As some in the crowd rushed the stage, Les Simpson stayed back. When a shirt sailed toward him, he snagged it by sticking one of the crutches he's using while recovering from knee surgery above the outstretched hands of the people near him.

Simpson, who works for a software firm in Victorville, Calif., plans to give his freebies to his two teenage daughters when he returns home. A devout nonfan of the Spice Girls, the 43-year-old former high school basketball coach could offer no good reason for why he bothered to watch their Comdex equivalent.

"I wouldn't have any need for anything from National Semiconductor," Simpson said with a shrug. "I just like getting overwhelmed by everything here."

Meanwhile, a smaller gathering surrounded the Iomega stage, where a pitchman dressed up as the Kramer character from "Seinfeld" circus-barked about the Utah company's compact-disc drives. As he tossed out small packages of chocolate to the crowd to entice the crowd to join in an Iomega chant, they reached toward him, their arms bobbing slightly in the air like the dolphins at Sea World begging for a fish treat.

Kramer -- better known to his friends in San Diego as actor and stand-up comedian Ozzie Ostrow -- doubts people listen to him because they hope to learn the nuances of the company's Clik drive. The 46-year-old ex-lawyer provided his own theories on what they want.

"Some people, they just like to look at a pretty face," Ostrow said, chuckling. "The rest of them, I think they're waiting to see if I fall off the stage."

Other exhibitors took a somewhat more mobile approach to advertising their wares.

The Massachusetts company Agfa makes digital cameras and scanners. Comdex attendees could enter a raffle Tuesday for a free Agfa scanner -- so long as they agreed to wear the empty cardboard box that one comes in while walking around the convention.

Patricia Barrett, 50, who operates an e-commerce Web site in Anchorage, Alaska, decided she could handle the stares that her box top would attract.

"I was having a bad hair day anyway, so I figured I might as well wear it," she said.

Rather than hope to win something for free, Peter Farkas forked over $18 to get what he needed most: a 15-minute foot rub by a massage therapist with Onsite Bodyworks. The San Francisco company offers massages to worn-out conventioneers.

A three-time Comdex veteran and product manager of a direct-response marketing firm in Manhattan, the 38-year-old Farkas always makes sure to wear sensible shoes to the sprawling computer show. Still, after spending the better part of six hours tromping through both the convention hall and the Sands expo center, Farkas knew he had made a sound investment.

"There is no question," he said, sighing as a therapist kneaded his aching feet, "that this is my finest moment at Comdex."