to: cypherpunks@toad.com,cypherwonks@lists.eunet.fi,colorado_cypherpunks@vis.colostate.edu subject: ...Into your life it will creep cc: ld231782 Hello {CA,CO,Internet} cy{ph,b}er{wo,pu}nks. Many cypherpunks have told me that trust is not an inherent element of daily life and that new features of cyberspace such as digital signatures make things like human trust obsolete. This reminds me of a poem that I saw by S.Boxx. ===cut=here=== How do I Trust Thee? S.Boxx How do I trust thee? Let me count the ways. Some sofware I get free, and have used for many days; I trust the program author is not waging Virus War. I trust that when I need a key The one I seek is there for me. And where a map depicts one door I don't stumble into four! I trust you not to peek When it's anonymity I seek; The cypherpunk remailers must be free from failures! You trust that when you send me mail, privacy isn't broken by a cyberspatial wail! All our mailboxes Are open to the world, To mailbombs and S.Boxxes and vicious insults hurled. I trust that when you hear my name, You will not smear me with the blame of another arsonist's black flame, My reputation you will not defame, My friends escape your poison aim! My messages go to many lists, I trust they go to all-- Though I've seen Dictators' fists And when they hit a wall-- If you notice that they do, I dearly hope to hear from you. (After all, if you should fall, or if you burn, you'll quickly learn, Cyberspatial liquidation Is like anarchy in a nation.) We all trust that our leaders are not evil breeders, and not Draculean feeders! We trust that when we hear `true' stories, They're not cruel lies for somebody's false glories. We trust that we aren't living lies, We trust our friends are friends, not spies: In dark hours their light lives, not dies. Otherwise their rotten smell Will not make you feel well-- Even be your living hell. Eventually your mind will drench, Permeated by their putrid stench, Finally your sanity will wrench. Above all else we trust our foes Not to lash us for their woes, That whatever it is they think we owe, Whatever secret sin of theirs we know, They avoid the `brick-through-window' throw. We pray that even while we doze, Their fuse or dynamite never goes... Not to assail me with deadly blows, Not to kill me for merely stepping on some toes.