I was invited one morning last week to moderate a panel that purportedly would include a prominent anti-spammer or two at an upcoming e-mail conference. That afternoon, I was promptly uninvited because someone from anti-spam land said they wouldn’t participate if I led the discussion.
Too bad.
A panel featuring me, an anti-spammer, and others could have made for some lively debate—lively content being sorely lacking at most conferences. But apparently, this unnamed anti-spammer was afraid I might hurt his or her feelings.
Anti-spam activists are generally used to arguing from a position where no one can argue back. Many of them simply can’t imagine that someone can be relatively informed on the subject of e-mail, and ethical, and not draw the same conclusions they do.
As a result, in their minds, since I disagree with them on some crucial points—for example, I think the Can-Spam Act is a perfectly fine piece of legislation—I must be dishonest, or at the very least not especially bright.
Wouldn’t a panel in front of an audience of marketers be the perfect forum in which to demonstrate how misguided I am? Oh well.
Wait a minute. What’s that I hear? Why, it’s the famous mating call of the elusive yellow-feathered chickenus anti-spaminus. Shhhhhh. Don’t frighten it away. They’re very timid and will take flight at the slightest threat. Listen. …
“Bak, bak, bak, bak, BAKHEHH!!!!!”
