Read this blog and get a free laptop!

Firstly, in the interests of managing your expectations, no - there is no free laptop.

After all, why would there be? Laptop computers are expensive, valuable things. I'm hardly going to give you one just for reading a few paragraphs of text, am I? If you stop and think about it for a moment, it just doesn't make sense.

Which is why I was surprised to receive an e-mail earlier this week claiming that if I would just forward it on to 8 people, then Ericsson were going to give one to me.

Here's the test of the e-mail:
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Subject: Free Ericsson Laptops

Hi everyone
Ericsson are distributing free laptops for their brand promotion.
They hope to increase their popularity and sales by this campaign.
All you need to do is send an email about this to 8 people and you will receive an Ericsson T18 Laptop.
However, if you send an email about this to 20 or more people, you will receive an Ericsson R320 Laptop.
Make sure you send a copy to: anna.swelung@ericsson.com
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OK, let's tackle this one thing piece by piece.

If Ericsson were really trying to boost sales, why would they be giving away their products for free?

Ericsson T18 and R320 are mobile phones, not laptops, and discontinued models at that. Incidentally, I didn't know that off the top of my head. But, googling the text of the e-mail turned up (in one of the top links on the first page) that this e-mail was a hoax.

I'd guessed that already, but apparently none of the three people who forwarded this on to me either thought about it, nor took the time to check the facts before forwarding it on. One of those three isn't the sharpest tool in the shed, bless her, but the other two really should have known better. And judging by the number of forwards in the body of the message, the world is not short on gullibility.

I've previously received others: Bill Gates is giving away his fortune, apparently, and I'll get a free bottle of champagne for passing on another. Once again, the premise is the same: you get something for doing virtually nothing. I'm sorry to break this too you, but life doesn't work that way.

I once challenged an ex-boss of mine - someone who really should have known better - over her forwarding such a message out over company e-mail. It wasn't my smartest career move, and her response was "It's worth a try - it can't hurt to give it a go."

I was even less popular when I pointed out that the message (with all the headers and forwards) was 25 kilobytes big. If all 160 users at the company received just a single copy, that's 4Mb of data we've paid for coming down out internet link. If every recipient sent it on to 20 people as the message suggested, that's 81Mb of e-mail going out again. That is the first way chain letters like this can hurt - by directly increasing internet costs, or by blocking up e-mail systems, delaying the delivery of other, more important e-mails.

The second cost is to the individual's, and the company's, reputation. At the time, I was working for a professional services company. For a senior manager to send out a message from a company e-mail address makes a clear statement: "We have so little respect for our clients that, not only will we publish/broadcast your e-mail address to a group of strangers for our own selfish benefit, but we also can't be arsed doing a basic internet query to check our facts before showing you how stupid we are."

As I said, it wasn't the smartest career move I've ever made. But I stand by my comments then, and now.

Rich people, and rich companies, do not stay rich by giving away something for nothing. And if a spammer can pay $20 for a thousand e-mail addresses, why would someone give you a laptop for just 20?

A little common sense goes a long way.

An evening with...

Author's note: The story below is entirely fictitious, and may contain material or concepts of an adult nature. It is a tale of activities between two consenting adults, in the privacy of their own home. If you are likely to be offended by such, then don't read it. You have been warned.
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She sat on the couch, awaiting his arrival, little know what awaited her that evening. The message that her man had sent her was as exciting as it was cryptic: "I'll be there at 7pm sharp. Be on the couch, blindfolded, awaiting my arrival. Dress sexy.

It was rare that he, such a sweet and gentle man, took such an authoritative tone with with her - but knowing her as he did, she knew he was planning a surprise for her.

She had readied herself early this evening - drawing a warm scented bubble bath; and she had allowed time should she wish to luxuriate in it. However, anticipation got the better of her and she hastened her preparation.

Now that the appointed hour drew near, she lay on the couch sipping a glass of red wine. Clad only in a thin nightdress of black satin and lace, the wine warmed her inside as the radiance from the crackling fire did the same from without.

With a glance at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece, she saw that it was nearly time. The tone of the message was such that she knew he would not be late, and tardiness on her part would involve a punishment. She placed the wine goblet on the table and donned the blindfold, carefully tying the knot behind her head. As the clock began to chime the hour, a shiver ran up her spine as the heard the sound of a key in the door.

The door opened and then closed, and footsteps rang out across the floorboards as he walked wordlessly into the room. Over the crackle of the open fire, she heard him open his briefcase and then a rustling sound as if he had removed something from it.

Silence for a moment, and then the sound of his footsteps approaching.

She could hear his breath quicken as he surveyed her form, observing her before he placed his warm hand on her head - a delicate caress to smooth an errant strand of her wispy hair.

She felt the back of his hand gently stroke her cheek, one side and then the other. Her lips parted slightly, as if yearning for a touch from his as he moved closer. She felt something touch her lips, something softer than skin - a food of some kind. Whilst it was not unusual for them to use food as an object of seduction, it had been a while and she was greatly pleased at his thoughtfulness and attention to the finest detail.

She opened her mouth as he pushed the morsel in, and she immediately recognized the flavour that greeted her. The salty taste, combined with the creamy texture was unmistakable and she savoured it, smiling sensually as she did so.

She heard her man place a plate on the table in front of her. His hand reached around her head, stroking her ear as he did so, to the knot on the blindfold. With a deft flick her removed it, and light filled her world again. She gazed into his handsome eyes, relishing his fine form. With the flavour still on her lips, her gaze drifted to the plate on the table until.....

An involuntary gasp escaped he lips when she saw the morsels of food arrayed, and the container that was on the table. Her mind reeled suddenly, unable to reconcile what she saw before her. She turned to her man, and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

He smiled in return as his rich baritone voice said, "Yes, I know.... I can't believe it's not butter either!"

Zen and the art of being an airline passenger

Zen Buddhists have a saying: "You do not have to understand the moment, to be in the moment."

Understanding the moment, and having a moment of perfect and total understanding, is a rare and beautiful thing. Some call it an epiphany, some call it divine grace, some call it nirvana. Whatever your name for it, having a perfect moment of self-awareness is something we should all strive for and treasure. Some Buddhists would argue that it is impossible to have total awareness of the universe. Taoists would tell you that it is possible, but you would be unable to explain it to anyone else, because we lack the words to describe it - an attempt to describe the Eternal Tao would be incomplete, and would therefore diminish it.

In any case, to lack complete understanding but still be in the moment - fully and totally focussed and aware without worries for the past or future - should not be underestimated. To be a rock in the stream: part of the river, yet outside it. Affecting the water, and affected by it, but also steadfast.

Being a passenger on an aeroplane is such an experience. You have control: you determined your origin and destination, and your flight time, but you have no control: the pilot steers the plane and determines where and when you land.

No effort on your part will make the journey quicker, you travel but you do not move and do not exert your will to affect the travel.

You stand on solid material, but exist far above the clouds.

You may have responsibilites or worries behind you or in front of you, but in the here and now you have none.

The world is below you and around you, but you cannot contact it and it cannot contact you.

It is a perfect opportunity to acheive a zen-like state, and people address this in different ways.

Some will sleep, their lives so busy and hectic that the slumber they deny themselves on the ground is their most urgent need when those other worldly cares diminsh.

Some watch a movie, or listen to music. Are their lives such that they cannot spend an hour or two without external stimulation? Do they try to distract themselves, from the flight, or from themselves - because being alone with their own thoughts might provoke some self awareness?

Some pace and mutter, impatient for the solitude to end. Some talk to other passengers, to stave off the lonliness.

What do you do?

(Note to the universe: next time I'm booked in for an understanding of universal truthes and zen contemplation, can I please have a little more knee room? Or is that your way of grounding me in ther here and now?)

Perspective

Take a look at the scene above. This is a photograph I took today. Picturesque, wouldn't you say? The windmill, the barn, the field. A lovely view of the countryside, isn't it?

Now look a little closer. Above the windmill, just over the trees you can see the roof of a house.
Yes, the windmill, the livestock - all of it is a model (at the Brekonscot Model Village)

Without the view of the house, your eyes are quite happy to accept that the windmill is full size. But, now that you know it's a model - you won't be fooled. Even if you were to cover the house with your hand, you won't be fooled again. Henceforth, it will always be a model windmill.

This is the benefit that perspective give us. A point of reference that we can use as a baseline to judge other things. And, in our own lives, perspective, the ability to step outside ourselves and see things from a different angle, is what we often lack. We make assumptions, and sometimes those assumptions are so fundamental that we're not even aware we make them.

Take gravity, for example. It's not something you think about very often. It's always around. hen you drop something, it falls to the ground. At about 9.8 meters per second per second, so I'm told. But we take it for granted that, if we put a book on a table, it will sit there in preference to floating off into the air.

And, if you were to conduct the same experiment everywhere on Earth - putting a book onto a flat level surface, however many times you did it, it would continue to stay there. So, one might easily say by empirical evidence, that gravity is a universal constant. Except that it isn't - wherever we tried this process, we were still on Earth. We were still in a Nitrogen/Oxygen atmosphere, at a reasonably constant air pressure. The books were all made of paper, which is carbon based. They were all done with the lights on (so we could see if the book fell or not.)

Now, perhaps light levels, or atmospheric composition, or the nature of paper doesn't have any effect on gravity. Or maybe it does. I really don't know. Perhaps the only way to find out is to perform this experiment in space, or on the moon?

Which brings me to the point of this blog: I read a letter to the editor of a newspaper a few days ago, decrying the amount of money spent on the space program or on projects like the LHC at CERN - money which they argued "could be better spent on fixing the problems here on Earth, like cancer research or climate change".

Climate change is a good one, actually. There is still a lot of debate about how much affect (if any) humans have had on climate change. We know that sea levels have risen and fallen throughout history. We know that the Earth has warmed and cooled. We know that the Sun's output is not constant. But can we determine the effect that humans have on climate change, to separate our effect from the natural cycles? When every reference point we have is tainted with the same bias - our own Earthiness? The answer is to step back from Earth. Stand elsewhere, and get some perspective.

In our own relationships, too, we sometimes see what we expect to see rather than what is truly there. If we are utterly convinced that people are inherently racist or sexist, then any slight - real or perceived - will be filtered through that lens.

If a person is convinced their spouse is cheating, then no amount of lack of evidence will sway them, and anything slightly unusual will be viewed as "proof". Lack of evidence becomes proof that they are good at hiding it.

Whilst we stay trapped in our own heads, and prisoners to our own misconceptions, we can never glimpse the possibility of what other truths might be out there, and what more there is to learn.

Make today your day to step back, look around, and get some perspective.

Fear

My fellow Bloggerator recently wrote about a spate of child abductions in NSW and, amongst other things, said that:

With no official statement from police and left with many differing news reports of these events, we have to assume that releasing any official statements would lead to a greater fear in the community

Fear is a basic, primal emotion - and it serves an important purpose. Fear is what prevents a person or animal from doing an activity which is dangerous.

For example, I used to be afraid of heights. I have it under control now - I know that I can climb a ladder or get up on a house roof if I need to - I just don't like doing it, and if I'm up there I make very sure that the ladder is steady and I watch where I'm walking.

This isn't an irrational fear by any means. If I were to fall off a roof, I would get hurt. Fear forces me to keep my wits about me and pay attention.

So why is "fear in the community" such a bad thing?

Knowing that there are child abductors at large would surely cause parents to be more diligent in protecting their children. They would make sure that they didn't walk home alone, or waited at school or a friend's house until they could be picked up.

But "fear in the community" is not about this at all. The concerned about is the public realising that the police cannot protect them. The rule of law only exists when citizens believe that the police can enforce it.

Therefore, they are very good at publicising arrests and successes, but usually avoid discussing failures, or a lack of leads in a case. Governments, too, have a interesting relationship with fear, and quite a mixed one.

On the one hand, they reassure the community that they are in control - that they can protect us from the bad guys (criminals, terrorists). Provided that we re-elect them. On the other hand, they have much to gain by keeping us afraid. The terrorists are out there, amongst us, and so in order to protect us they need the ability to track our movements, read our e-mails, listen to our phone calls and watch us on CCTV cameras.

The extent to which we are suffer these encroachments is directly proportional to our fear. Benjamin Franklin famously wrote "Those who would give up Essential Liberty to purchase a little Temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety."

It is therefore important that we listen to our fears, but control them rather than letting fear control us. There is a Swedish proverb which says that "Fear is a light that gives a small thing a large shadow." And it is very true: Fear is not always rational.

Why are people afraid of terrorism? Terrorists kill people, this is true. We can be afraid of losing our lives. But, if fear of death is sufficient reason to control our actions, then why do we drive a car. Statistically, we are more likely to die through a car accident than a terrorist attack. In fact, the risk of being killed by a falling coconut or being eaten by a hippopotamus is higher.

Do we ban cars? Hardly. We mitigate the risk by enforcing speed limits and road worthiness of cars. But the government and councils rake in millions of dollars in petrol tax, registration fees, tolls and parking fees (and fines) - there is no vested interest in limiting or reducing the number of vehicles on the road. But for a government that maintains authority through fear, there is an interest in monitoring what citizens say and do, where they go and with whom they meet.

Certainly, we should listen to our fears. They exist to aid us in recognising danger. But we must also ensure that our fears are logically proportional to the danger we face. And we should also ensure that our fears are OUR fears - not those imposed upon us for a political agenda.

Bears

I've always had an affinity for bears. And, in recent years, it's beginning to show. Furry, round belly, growl a lot, tendency to hibernate when it gets cold, etc. In a past life, I used to be a bear.

And, when it comes to bears, one of the stand-outs would have to be Paddington Bear, who turns 50 years old today.

I remember when I was younger, I had a blue duffel coat just like his. It never occurred to me to ask where a bear would get a duffel coat from, especially in Deepest Darkest Peru. It's one of those things you blindly accept as a kid - like why a bear travelling from Peru to London by stowing away in a lifeboat would be found in a train station, not a sea port.

Or being able to speak English. But, I suppose if a bear is going to learn to speak, then English is as good a language as any.

Think about the story now makes you realise that the world today is a very different place than it was when Paddington arrived in London. In those days, in Paddington's world - a refugee bear from another country, lost and alone, was taken in by a kind family. Not as fanciful as you might think - 1958 was just over a decade after London's children were evacuated during the Second World War, and taken in by kindly folk in the country.

Nowadays, if a refugee without a passport were to turn up, bear or human, he would never make it as far as a railway station. He'd be arrested at the border, thrown into mandatory detention and sit there for months or years, waiting for a public servant to process his claim. He'd be fingerprinted, facial scanned, and DNA tested before you could even say "Marmalade" (let alone eat any.) His blue duffel coat and red hat would be ripped along the hems, in case the kindly polite bear was smuggling drugs in it.

If he ever did make it into the country, on a temporary bear refugee visa, what then? Would he still be taken in by Mr & Mrs Brown, or would their modern xenophobic distrust of foreigners make them walk down to another platform. Or, in their modern day haste (and inability to work out the destination boards at Paddington Station), would they even notice a lone bear?

Would Jonathan & Judy Brown go off on wild adventures with him? Or would Judy be grounded for skipping school, and Jonathan be dealing drugs on the side, in spite of his A.B.O. for carrying a knife in a shopping centre?

Would Paddington still have elevenses with Mr Gruber, the shop keeper? Sadly, no. Paddington can still buy things from his shop, but to serve elevenses, Mr Gruber would have to have a food handling safety licence, and a commerical-grade kitchen. Nor would he really be allowed to invite Paddington into his back room. You see, he's an underage bear and Mr Gruber hasn't had the necessary police records check to get his "working with children" accreditation. Even if he had it, he would no doubt get strange looks and be gossiped about behind his back. He's a kindly old man, of course, but people do talk. And mud does stick.

Happy Birthday, Paddington. 50 years old today - and the world is a very different place now from the one you innocently set sail to. And, between the two - I think I'd prefer living in yours.

I can't beleive I missed this....

... but "Ask Bossy" is in the running for a "Blogger's Choice" award.

Voting ends in 3 days, so please get yourself over to http://bloggerschoiceawards.com/blogs/show/20718 (you'll need to register) and vote for her!

Hair styles

It's rare for me to have a haircut. Even rarer for me to cut several of 'em! :-)

It's not that I dislike hair dressers. Except for the most recent one I went to: her, I actively dislike and will never set foot in that salon again. But I digress. Generally, haircuts and hair styling is something I just can't be bothered with. I'll get around to it at some point. I generally have a haircut every 3-4 months, when it starts flopping in my face or getting caught in my collar.

For the past few years, I've had just a traditional short back and sides. My last haircut was a couple of weeks ago. So, now it's at this really annoying stage. The hair on the sides of my head is about one and a half inches long. And when I wake up in the morning, I have a "step". Only on one side, though.

Bed hair. The bane of my life. About the only thing I can do it wet it down in the shower, which means I end up washing it every day or two.

The hair is too short to comb properly - the comb passes through without touching it and it's not long enough for its own weight to pull it down. So, putting mousse in it won't help either. When ther hair gets longer, maybe - but not now. Hair gel is too messy to contemplate, and just looks greasy on me. Wax sort-of works, but always ends up making my hair look dry.

Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated.

What shall we do with the herring?

I got some herring fillets cheap at the market today. I've never had herring before, so not sure really what to do with it.

In the end, I made a crust of cracked pepper, garlic, mixed dried herbs and some chopped basil from my herb garden (well, herb pot plant) and pan-fried it, with a side salad done with a dressing of olive oil, white wine vinegar and natural yoghurt.

Was rather tasty, but I think I need to go easier on the pepper next time. It turns out that herring already has a strong flavour, so it doesn't need much

Capsicum

Green capsicum...

I just love it. It is, I think, the one vegetable I could just eat and eat and never get sick of it. Raw, roasted, char-grilled. In a salad, on a pizza, in long strips with dip. Cut in half and piled with cous-cous. The options are limitless.

I've strayed to yellow capsicum once or twice - meh, I could take it or leave it. It's nice, but just looks underripe to me.

I've had the red. It's good to have variety, sure. But I always go back to green.

What's your favourite vegie? (And how do you cook it?)

Looking a gift horse in the mouth

A friend of mine, Kate, runs an advice blog - she receives letters from the the public and publishes them along with advice. We all know that lots of things go on behind closed doors - so it's not surprising that some of the letters concern behaviour which many people might find unusual.

Quite frequently, someone on the blog says that the letters aren't real. Occasionally, someone will outright accuse Kate of making them up herself.

I've always been troubled by these sort of accusations. Despite them being untrue, they've always stuck me as being just well... arrogant. Sometimes, a person with reasonable knowledge of a topic will comment, and dispute facts stated in the poster's letter. That's great when it happens, because people can back up their opinions with examples. But these other responses fall into three main categories, all of them with an undertone of arrogance:

• This cannot be real. No one could be that foolish/immoral/strange/etc.: The underlying premise here is that the commenter is judging the letter based on their own experience of life. If the events described don't fit with their own narrow preconceptions, then the letter must be wrong - because there is no way the person commenting could be the one that's wrong, is there?
• This isn't true, but you've all (including Kate) been sucked in by it: Similar to the one above, statements like this one offer no evidence as to why it isn't true. It is the commenter's opinion, stated as fact along with an added dash of superiority; I'm smarter than all of you because I worked it out and you didn't.
• Kate obviously makes these up: This one bugs me most of all, because as well as presenting no evidence that the letter is not real, they also accuse someone that they've never met of deliberately being deceitful. This accusation, naturally, is also delivered without any supporting evidence.

Occasionally, I'm sure, someone will write a fake letter and try to get it published. But often, a letter writer might change facts or omit details to protect their identity. If a person categorically states that a letter is false, then they deny the possibility that it might be true. And if it is true, then there is a person - a fellow human being - who is in pain, and reaching out for help. A person who is big enough to admit they don't have all the answers - rather a stark contrast to someone who can arrogantly claim to know (with no basis) what is truth and what is lies.

An advice blog is built on pillars: on one, advice is offered by both the blogger and the commentors. The second pillar is that the blogger is providing entertainment to the readership.

To deny the possibility of the letter writer being real, and to offer scorn and disbelief instead of genuine advice, is to swing a hammer at one of those pillars.

And to accuse the blogger of lies and deceit strikes at the other pillar: Hand in hand with the arrogance comes a sens of entitlement. Bloggers, whether they are paid or not, generally publish their work for free. No one compels the readers to come: they do so voluntarily, because they wish to be informed or educated. If you are invited over to a friend's house for a meal, would you then insult their cooking? Are you likelyto be invited back for another meal? So, by going to a blog and insulting your host, in what way are you encouraging them to continue entertaining you, and the other readers?