IN THE eighties there was a rash of products that promised to protect PC
users from the unseen, unproven danger of radiation from a computer screen. Now
we have the first of what will doubtless be many devices to protect cellphone
users from the unseen, unproven danger of radiation from handheld phones.
The Microshield costs 拢45 and claims to 鈥渟hield . . . users from the
potentially damaging emissions鈥�. It was launched at the Royal Society of
Medicine and publicised by a company calling itself the Health Network. HN warns
that 鈥渄isturbing research shows that microwaves emitted from the humble
hand-held cellular phone can heat up the brain and have even been linked with
tumours鈥�. It goes on: 鈥淲e found published articles from experts around the world
which link microwave emissions with conditions as diverse as tumours and
Alzheimer鈥檚 disease.鈥�
The Royal Society of Medicine is now getting inquiries from people who want
to know more about the health risks from cellphones. 鈥淲e simply hired out a
room,鈥� says a spokesman. 鈥淚t was not an endorsement. We have absolutely no
connection whatsoever with the company鈥�.
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Despite Feedback鈥檚 requests for copies of the papers which ostensibly
substantiate the alarming claims, the Health Network has only been able to
supply us with a few edited extracts, in some cases with names removed.
By design, cellphones must emit radio waves. Microshield is a case enclosing
a cellphone which limits its radiation. Simon Rockman, editor of specialist
magazine What Mobile and Cellphone, points out that modern digital
phones adjust their transmission strength to suit the conditions. So if the
aerial is shielded the phone鈥檚 circuitry just works harder.
鈥淭he phone sucks more power from the battery,鈥� says Rockman, 鈥淪o you end up
with the same amount of radiation, except that the batteries will go flat more
quickly. Then the phone won鈥檛 work and it will be completely safe.鈥�
At this point it occurred to us that the smartest ploy might be to sell
broken cellphones that are guaranteed not to work, and are thus completely safe.
When we launch our scheme, we hope to rent a room from the Royal College of
Medicine.
SPURRED on by our stories about wayward spellcheckers鈥攖he last was on
13 April鈥擜rthur Cox wondered if his two pocket spellcheckers could meet
the ultimate challenge. He keyed in 鈥済hoti鈥�, the word Bernard Shaw concocted to
illustrate the peculiarities of English spelling. With the 鈥済h鈥� pronounced as in
鈥渞ough鈥�, the 鈥渙鈥� as in 鈥渨omen鈥� and the 鈥渢i鈥� as in 鈥減osition鈥�, 鈥済hoti鈥� would be
pronounced 鈥渇ish鈥�.
Could a spellchecker work this out for itself? Amazingly, the Franklin Next
Century Roget鈥檚 Thesaurus was familiar with Shaw鈥檚 attempts to turn English into
a phonetic language. Without hesitation it corrected 鈥済hoti鈥� to 鈥渇ish鈥�. But when
Cox tried substituting 鈥済h鈥� for 鈥渇鈥� in other words, the spellchecker was
flummoxed鈥攕o it had been deliberately seeded by a Shavian programmer with
a sense of humour.
Cox鈥檚 Franklin Word Factory, however, thought that 鈥済hoti鈥� meant 鈥済host鈥�,
while Feedback鈥檚 own spellchecker came up with 鈥済hetto鈥�. We wonder how many
other readers have spellcheckers of the same phonetic sophistication as Cox鈥檚
Next Century.
DESPITE this column鈥檚 fearless exposures, manufacturers continue to issue
bizarre warnings with their products. For example, the instructions accompanying
Reality, an American brand of female condom, reach out to the higher realms of
New Age existential philosophy.
鈥淯se a new REALITY each time you make love,鈥� we are adjured. 鈥淓nsure REALITY
is not twisted on insertion. REALITY may shift during intercourse. Keep REALITY
out of the reach of children.鈥�
SUSAN McNamara sent us this on the Internet. She got it from the EGAD
listserv, where she thinks it was posted by Lee Sechrest, who got it from . . .
who knows where? It鈥檚 a letter written by a certain Chris L. Jensen to a
professor at an American university.
鈥淒ear Professor X,
Thank you for your letter of March 16. After careful consideration, I regret
to inform you that I am unable to accept your refusal to offer me an assistant
professorship in your department.
This year I have been particularly fortunate in receiving an unusually large
number of rejection letters. With such a varied and promising field of
candidates, it is impossible for me to accept all refusals.
Despite [your university鈥檚] outstanding qualifications and previous
experience in rejecting applicants, I find that your rejection does not meet my
needs at this time. Therefore, I will assume the position of assistant professor
in your department this August.
I look forward to seeing you then. Best of luck in rejecting future
applicants.
Sincerely, Chris L. Jensen.鈥�
HAVING READ our comments on the impending 鈥減roblem鈥� of how computers will
cope with the millennium, Rachel Oliver thought of a rather more serious
difficulty which we will encounter in the year 2000. What will we call the new
decade? We are all happy to be living in the nineties and older people hark back
to the fifties, sixties etc鈥攂ut 鈥渢he first decade of the new Millenium鈥� or
even the 鈥渄ouble zeros鈥� doesn鈥檛 have quite the right ring.
Perhaps readers could enter suggestions? To get the ball rolling, Oliver
suggests the 鈥渘oughties鈥濃�攅xcept that she鈥檚 worried that journalists would
immediately turn this into the 鈥渘aughty noughties鈥�.
JUST occasionally, Feedback鈥檚 stony heart is moved by some lines of verse.
This was certainly the case when, with tearful eyes and palpitating breast, we
read 鈥淭he Chemist to His Love鈥�, which originally appeared in a volume of prose
and poetry collected by the Rev. O. H. Tiffany and published in Philadelphia in
1883, but which has now resurfaced in the journal Chemical and Engineering
News:
Our mutual flame is like the affinity
That doth exist between two simple bodies;
O, would that I, my Mary, were an acid,
A living acid; thou an alkali;
We might both coalesce into one salt.
I鈥檇 be content to be Sulphuric Acid,
So that thou might be Soda; in that case
We should be Glauber鈥檚 salt.
Sweet, thy name is Briggs
And mine is Johnson. Wherefore
should not we
Agree to form a Johnsonate of Briggs?
We will. The day, the happy day is nigh.
Altogether now: Aaaaah!