F H card letter b

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

No Obligation to Satisfy Your Lover and Lose Pounds - The Origins of Spam

Amy wants to sell me Viagra. So do Shannon and Roy. Terrance offers a male penile enlargement that sounds both uncomfortable and redundant. And Arnold promises I can look younger and lose weight in just three weeks with human growth hormone.

I’ll need all that and more if Sandie and Krys have their way with me. They’re proposing things performed by hot teenagers of both sexes that would make a Singapore whore blush. Of course, the girls and boys are going to need someone who can keep them in style, but Jonathon has that covered for me too. Debt reduction, refinancing, a world of winnings at the Lucky Nugget Casino, and a new career working out of my home are all but a mouse click away.

That’s just this morning’s spam. I get an average fifteen to twenty unsolicited email messages every day, which translates to about 5,000 clicks on the “X” button per year. That small amount is considered a laughable minor annoyance by most of my Net acquaintances. Missy, a researcher on Google Answers, once claimed one of her email accounts was receiving 3,000 pieces of spam a week before she finally closed it. But everyone – everyone – gets spam, and gets lots of it, unless they’re extremely protective of their email address.


– Opening line from the first known piece of spam, an antiwar message sent to over a thousand people at M.I.T. in 1971

Tom Van Vleck, an engineer and research scientist, claims to have seen the first instance of spam over 30 years ago at M.I.T. Van Vleck built M.I.T.’s email system and ran the programming group for the school in 1971. As he writes on his Web site, “…I was mighty displeased one day … to discover that one of my team had abused his privilege to send a long anti-war message to every user… I pointed out to him that this was inappropriate and possibly unwelcome, and he said, ‘But this is important!’”

If you agree with Van Vleck’s definition of spam, any mass email message sent to a large group of unwilling recipients, then he may be right that the M.I.T. anti-war email was its first instance. However, most people think of spam as commercial messages hawking anything from weight-loss pills to hard-core porn. A salesman named Gary Thuerk was the one who opened the Pandora’s Box of commercial spam seven years after the M.I.T. anti-war message. If the Pandora’s Box analogy holds true, and the last thing that emerged from Thuerk’s box was also Hope, it has yet to have made much headway against spam.


– Excerpt from the first known piece of commercial spam. Sent by THUERK at DEC-MARLBORO on May 1, 1978

It’d be unfair to call Thuerk the father of spam. He’s more like the unlucky guy who first had the idea to inhale smoke from a burning weed, or maybe he’s more like Alfred Nobel. Call him the Godfather of Spam—the unwilling patron of a bad boy constantly getting into trouble. Thuerk was just the first to invent something that almost everyone—at least everyone who isn’t making money from it—wishes hadn’t been invented at all. But if it hadn’t been Thuerk it would have been someone else. There’s always another Pandora willing to open the box.

In 1978 Thuerk was a sales representative with Digital Equipment Corporation, also known as DEC, a now-defunct computer company based in Massachusetts. DEC was well known on the East Coast in 1978, but had little visibility elsewhere. Known within DEC as an aggressive marketer, Thuerk was given the task of expanding DEC’s presence in the West, especially California. Thuerk decided to hold a series of marketing “open house” to promote a new computer the company was releasing, and came up with the idea to advertise through a message to all 393 people who then had email addressees on the West Coast.

Thuerk now works for Hewlett-Packard, which bought out Compaq in 2001, which had in turn absorbed DEC in the `90s. “Actually, I still think it was a pretty good idea,” Thuerk told me when I called him at his office. For someone who’s been the target of bad vibrations for over 20 years, Thuerk is a surprisingly cheerful and talkative guy. If he has one tic about spam, it is that he dislikes using – or hearing – the word. He prefers the phrase, “commercial email.”

“It was great marketing, very targeted,” he says. “I didn’t think of it as all that different from sending a flyer through regular mail. You have to understand that the only people who had email in the seventies were people connected to the ARPAnet.”

ARPAnet was an early version of today’s Internet and Web, created and controlled by the military, and connecting a few thousand scientists and engineers at universities and government labs. DEC’s new computer was the first to have ARPAnet software built in, something which should be something of interest, Thuerk thought, to everyone in the ARPAnet community.

The reaction to his email, Thuerk admits, was mixed.

“We did get complaints,” he says. “A major from the Department of Defense called my boss the next day and chewed him out royally. A few days later the major sent out a blanket email saying ‘no more commercial messages.’”

That message read in part, in all capital letters:


As well as getting the date wrong (Thuerk had a DEC technician send the message out on the first of May, although some recipients didn’t receive it until several days later), the major was also not the best predictor of the future, as time and increasing swarms of spam would tell. Although never trying it again himself, Thuerk was satisfied with what he had accomplished with this first piece of spam.

“It worked pretty well,” Thuerk says. “We received a lot of positive reaction and I made some new sales contacts. All in all, I thought it was a success.”

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Thuerk is also complacent about the monster his demon child has grown into. “At least 80 percent of the commercial email I get is useless,” he acknowledges. “But the problem is that it’s bad marketing, not that it’s marketing. It’s just overwhelming. Somebody will eventually come up with a way to target the messages only to the people who want to see them.”

I hang up the phone and wonder about a world where people would welcome daily email about breast reductions and penis enlargements.

SPAM vs. spam
“We do not object to use of this slang term to describe unsolicited commercial mail… [but] if the term is to be used, it should be used in all lower-case letters to distinguish it from our trademark SPAM, which should be used with all uppercase letters.”
– Notice on the “SPAM Website, brought to you by the makers of the SPAM Family of products”

As almost everyone knows by now, the term “spam” itself comes from a 1970 Monty Python routine about a restaurant where it’s impossible to get anything without spam – and lots of it – included, “You mean spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, and spam?” a waitress asks at one point.

Although probably wishing that the Monty Python team had picked on Jell-O rather than their product, the owner of the SPAM brand name, Hormel Foods, publicly seems more concerned with the possibility of losing its unique trademark than of its association with unwanted email. Emphasizing the difference in an almost comic notice on their Web site, Hormel states that their SPAM is not email spam. “We coined this term in 1937,” Hormel plaintively notes. “…Ultimately, we are trying to avoid the day when the consuming public asks, ‘Why would Hormel Foods name its product after junk e-mail?’”

The word started appearing as computer jargon in the early eighties. In tech-speak, “spamming” was used to describe flooding a computer with so much data that it would eventually freeze and crash. Among on-line chat room junkies, “spam” could either mean unwanted, verbose messages from new members, or as reaction against them: those bored with endless newbie chatter would sometimes use an automated program that would endlessly type the word, “spam”, to stop the conversation.

– Excerpt from the Canter and Siegel “Green Card” spam

“Spam” as a term to describe unwanted online advertising came into general use in 1994. A husband-and-wife lawyer team from Arizona, Laurence Canter and Martha Siegel, hired a programmer to post an advertisement on every USENET newsgroup flogging their services to help illegal foreign workers obtain green cards. An early version of online conferencing, USENET participants could discuss everything from UNIX computer programming to the trading of erotic versions of Disney cartoon art. You posted to a USENET discussion group through email, and received other postings and replies the same way; either individually or in daily digests.

At the time there were several thousand USENET groups, and each one of them received the Canter and Siegel advertisement, usually not once, but several times. Since many USENET participants often subscribed to dozens of newsgroups, their mailboxes were flooded with hundreds of the same message. “Spam” quickly became the favored online term for the Canter and Siegel “Green Card” solicitation, and went on to be applied to anything broadcast repeatedly and annoyingly in USENET groups.

Canter and Siegel also became infamous as the first totally unrepentant spammers. Even though their answering machine, fax, and email were flooded with complaints and threats, Canter and Siegel increased their spamming, happily gave media interviews, announced that they were available as consultants to others who wanted to post USENET ads, and ultimately self-published a book with the spam-like title of, “How to Make a Fortune on the Information Superhighway: Everyone's Guerrilla Guide to Marketing on the Internet and Other On-Line Services.”


Canter and Siegel faded back into obscurity after the publication of their book, but their experiment taught rogue programmers that mass e-mailing software, which had previously been used mostly to handle large mailing lists, could easily be perverted to send junk email. Today it’s dangerous to disclose your email address anywhere. Software that harvests email addresses from forum postings, captured from Web sites, even stolen from supposedly secure databases, has come into common use by spammers.

In a March 2003 study, the Center for Democracy and Technology (CDT), a non-profit Internet organization, concluded that e-mail addresses posted on Web sites or in newsgroups attract the most spam. The study also notes, “For the most part, companies that offered users a choice about receiving commercial e-mails respected that choice. Most of the major Web sites to which we provided e-mail addresses respected the privacy choices we made -- when a choice was made available to us.”

Can you avoid spam? Probably not, especially if you’re already receiving it. Spam lists propagate faster than a red worm farm, and once your address is in a spam database it will probably be there forever. But to protect yourself, the CDT study recommends:

1) Disguise your email address if used publicly. The study notes that their tests received the most spam just by placing an e-mail address at the bottom of a web page. If you must use your primary email address, make it invisible or unusable to automated programs, while still human-decipherable.

2) Use multiple email addresses. Establish alias email addresses specifically for newsgroups, forums, or Web postings. Make each address a little different and you’ll soon be able to track who’s providing your address to the spammers.

3) Use a filter. Most email services now offer some type of spam filtering, with varying degrees of success. If you’re inclined to filter spam yourself, you can install a tool such as MailWasher (http://www.mailwasher.net/), an email checker that can eliminate both spam and viruses before they ever reach your mailbox.

Lawsuits, better filtering and blocking software, legislation, whatever is brought against them, spammers have shown a resilience that makes it unlikely they’ll ever be totally brought under control. Spammers are like viruses – they adapt to survive. And like a virus, we may have to learn to tolerate the annoyance of spam, like the occasional summer cold.

Somewhere in Colorado, the godfather of spam is working at his computer. A soft chime tells him of incoming email. He glances at a subject line and moves the cursor to the “Delete” button. Another one of the brood he first created in 1978 disappears back into the ether. And Gary Thuerk smiles.



The bulk of the research for this article – as well as the excerpts from the early spam messages – came from Brad Templeton’s most excellent Web page, “Reflections on the 25th Anniversary of Spam” at:


I highly recommend it for those interested in a more detailed history of spam.

The full Center for Democracy & Technology’s March 2003 report, “Why Am I Getting All This Spam?” can be found at:


Thanks to Gary Thuerk for his kindness and for giving me the time to interview him by phone.

Friday, June 20, 2014

Spicy Adventure Stories -- January 1939

Friday, May 16, 2014

Life as a GAR - Working at Google Answers

Q: How do I sign up to become a Researcher?

A: Because of an overwhelming response by qualified candidates, we are temporarily not accepting additional applications. Please check back with us again, as we likely will begin accepting applications again in the near future.

- From the Google Answers FAQ

For roughly a year - May 2002 through May 2003 - I was a Google Answers Researcher (known among researchers themselves as "GARs") , working under the handle of "rico-ga." The "ga" stands for "Google Answers", an appendage that Google attached to every member name. The nickname "Rico" has a long history, which, under different variations, I've been using for over three decades.

If you know me or have read my personal blog long enough, you know my story already. The company I had worked for over the preceding 10 years closed its doors in late 2001, leaving me out on the street and with two weeks of severance for those 10 years. After several months of unemployment, I found a new job that I was supremely unhappy in. Fate, or the Muses, or maybe my Fairy Godmother, decided to lend a hand, and that company sacked me - as well as several dozen others, including their CEO - after I had been there just a month. Ironically, between the signing bonus, salary, and severance, I received more parting money for one month's employment there than I had from the other company for 10 years.

That second company went out of business a few months later.

The experience left me with an epiphany, as well as some money, the gist of it being that being a good boy and playing the game wasn't working, and I needed a new game. So, I started exploring alternatives to traditional go-to-work work. Happily, I had a wife who agreed and was willing to back my play.

I did several things until I settled back into contract work. And now I write, podcast, and blog for money. Sometimes I have several clients, sometimes I have lean periods. Occasionally, I end up out of work for awhile. But it's a pretty good life all-in-all.

As I said, while I was building that life, I tried my hand at several things, one of which was being a Google Answers Researcher. Google Answers launched in April 2002, a self-described "... way to get that help from Researchers with expertise in online searching. When you post a question to Google Answers, you specify how much you're willing to pay for an answer. A Researcher will search for the information you want. When they find it, they will post it to Google Answers, and you will be notified via email. You will only be charged for your question if and when an answer is posted to it."

Based on the payment schedule I knew that Google Answers wasn't going to provide me with a living. I think the most I made from it in any one month was $600. But, my life and confidence had been pretty well shattered at that point. I wanted to do something - anything - to prove to myself I could still earn money. And for that, Google Answers was good for me.

Except for helping me get back some self-confidence and a blanket that Google sent as a Christmas gift, and which my wife Peggy still uses, there's little else that I remember fondly about Google Answers. It was one of the first new projects spawned out of the Googleplex, and it was pretty obvious that - except in a technical sense - the anonymous "Google Answers Team," didn't have a clue about what they were doing, especially about how to manage their contractor researchers.

Poorly conceived, poorly executed, and even more poorly managed, much bothered and annoyed me about working for Google Answers. There was the near-paranoid obsession with secrecy to the point that researchers were dismissed if they talked/wrote about their work publicly. There was the management insistence on their anonymity - researchers would get email from management under the blanket "Google Answers Team" title. During the year I worked for Google I never knew the name of one member of the "Google Answers Team."

There was the arbitrary and inconsistent decision-making. You'd have answers pulled, restored, and pulled again dependent on which of the "Google Answers Team" was monitoring the work, sometimes with an explanation, often with only the reply that you had violated some ill-defined policy. One night, frustrated by a monitor who had decided to pull my answer for the third consecutive time with only boiler-plate explanations as to why, I sent an email advising what the entire Google Answers Team could collectively go do and resigned. I never regretted that decision.

There's some good memories too. One of my answers which was pulled by the ever-watchful Google Answers Team was to a question having the memorable and self-explanatory title, "Have Small Cock, Need Small Rubber." I spent an entertaining half-hour searching the Web, learning more about prophylactics both for the over- as well as for the under-endowed than I would probably ever have known otherwise. As I said, Google pulled the question shortly after I answered it, but did email my answer to the customer, who in turn sent a happy acknowledgment.

Of course, I never got paid for that one, although as I remember Google congratulated me on my initiative.

There's some other ones still there I'm proud of. The source of an obscure poem. After dinner toasts for a newly married couple. A murder mystery that bothered me so much that I came back six months after my original answer with more information. A Kennedy assassination question. A sad question about a plane crash in 1958.

But that last, as some other questions did, also had me questioning what I was doing. It was pretty obvious that I wasn't providing the customer what she really wanted. All I could do was point to resources that might help her find more information. There were too many questions like that; questions that no one could answer.

Some of the customers were clueless about that, as well as apparently clueless about basic search techniques. And some of them were pretty rude and stupid-mean as well as clueless. But generally, they were pretty good, and appreciative of our efforts. The GARs, which officially numbered somewhere between 500-800, although probably less than 100 were actively answering questions at any given time, were also a pretty good group. Super-intelligent as you could expect. Interesting. Funny. A couple of turkeys in that bunch too, but less than your average on-line community.

In early 2002, you could still apply for a researcher position, but within a few months Google would freeze Google Answers hirings and, despite the implication in their FAQ, never re-opened the application process. While it was still possible to become a GAR, the candidate needed a recommendation from one or more established Google Answers researchers to get his or her foot in the door. In fact, someone who would become one of the most popular and prolific GARs - pinkfreud - was unanimously nominated by the Google Answers community because of her delightful and detailed commentary on various questions.

But, back in May 2002 you could zip an application off to Google Answers and, in a few days, get back a link to a group of sample questions that you could try your hand at answering. Pick any three, take your best shot at answering them, send them back to the "Google Answers Team," and maybe you'd get hired.

Here's the three I chose, with my answers:

1) Question: What is the oldest existing film of a professional wrestling match, and where can I find it?

Your question made for a fascinating tour through the somewhat surreal world of professional wrestling web sites. The oldest pro wrestling film known to be in existence shows Earl Caddock wrestling Joe Stecher in front of 14,000 fans at the old Madison Square Garden in New York in 1920.

According to “Wrestling International Newsmagazine” (W.I.N.), Caddock was a former three-time AAU national amateur champion and was the then current world heavyweight professional champion, and Stecher was a former champion. Both had recently returned from World War I.

If you happen to be in the vicinity of Newton, Iowa (about 35 miles from Des Moines), you can view this historic film at the International Wrestling Institute and Museum’s video theatre. It’s one of the museum’s most popular attractions.


Securing a personal copy may be a little more problematic, but I did find one site selling a video that includes the match, as well as several other historic bouts ranging from the 1930s through 60s.

Keywords Used:

oldest wrestling film known exist

Stecher Caddock Wrestling Match

regards, rico-ga

2) Question: I'm trying to find a song with the lyrics "A little too little, a little too late."

If we had been doing this for real, I probably would have asked for some clarification regarding time period/genre. Nevertheless, I’m fairly certainly that the tune still bopping through your brain after all these years is “Little Too Late” written by A. Call and sung by the powerful Pat Benatar on her 1982 release, “Get Nervous”.

The lines you quote are from the song’s chorus:

“It's a little too little
It's a little too late
I'm a little too hurt
And there's nothin' left that I've gotta say
You can cry to me baby
But there's only so much I can take
Ah, it's a little too little
It's a little too late”

Given that the chorus repeats four times, it’s understandable why the lines stuck in your head. You can confirm that I’ve pegged the song by hustling over to Amazon and listening to an excerpt from “Little Too Late,” and then buy the CD for your listening pleasure if I’ve got it right.


Keywords Used:

lyrics "+a little too little"

yours in power-pop, rico-ga

3) Question: What is the unit of measure for pain? Distance is miles or km, weight is km or lb. What is pain measured in?

Without getting all Einsteinian on you, unlike distance or weight, pain’s a relative thing and difficult to measure. Having my thumb slammed by a hammer might cause paroxysms of weeping on my part, while the same blow to you might be felt as no more than a “painful” annoyance. But let’s not try.

The term “dol” (from the Latin “dolor” for “pain”) is the generally accepted term in science and medicine for a unit of pain intensity, according to Harcourt’s “Dictionary of Science and Technology”, Princeton University’s online WordNet system, and Dictionary.com.

In practice, the sufferer usually reports dols on a numeric or verbal scale or, in the case of children, often through the use of “Happy Faces” or “Oucher” scale.

If you’re not happy with “dol,” a Dr. Y. Vazharov of the Institute of Orthopedics and Traumatology,
Sofia (Bulgaria) has proposed the term “alg.” Given that the doctor outlines a measurement method, “where the patient complaining of pain is exposed to the effect of a second pain produced by electrical current. The secondary pain is gradually increased until both pains become equally distressful …” I have my personal doubts as to whether “alg” has much chance of catching on.

Keywords Used:

Dictionary science medicine

unit pain intensity

online dictionaries

According to various postings by now-ex-GARs on the Web, things didn't improve over at Google Answers after my departure. In fact, conditions gradually worsened until s portions of the system had broken and were left unrepaired by the "Google Answers Team," who obviously had already moved on to new challenges long before the official shutdown notice. The Google Answers Team, with the same charitable concern for the feelings of contractors that they consistently demonstrated during my tenure, notified researchers through email sent a few hours before the official announcement... although apparently it wasn't a surprise to anyone who had been paying attention.

Google Answers closed its doors in November 2006.

Monday, June 28, 2010

If You Encounter a Bear

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Fred is Here

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