From: "L. Detweiler" <ld231782@longs.lance.colostate.edu>
Date: Wed, 29 Dec 93 20:37:14 PST
To: colorado_cypherpunks@vis.colostate.edu
Subject: ...Into your life it will creep
Message-ID: <199312300432.VAA27833@longs.lance.colostate.edu>
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: text/plain


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 <na12070@anon.penet.fi>


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.

(Afer 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.