Stolen laptop worth lifetime of beer?

Here is an interesting new take on the value of information:

Owners were desperate to retrieve the [stolen] computer containing designs, contact details and financial information, the Rotorua Daily Post said.

They have offered free beer to anyone giving clues leading to its recovery.

Co-owner Paul Croucher said the company would provide a lifetime supply of about 12 bottles a month to anyone who could name the thief.

The company has back-up copies of the material stored on the laptop but these are not up to date, the newspaper said.

What are the chances this will work? And if it does, should security start trying to recover all laptops with beer? Makes a perfectly good excuse for storing large amounts of the beverage at the office, no?

Updated to add:

Cost of 12 beer from the company in question = $36

$36 X 12 months = $432/yr

Average lifetime of a kiwi male = 78.2

78.2 – 18 (kiwi drinking age) = 60.2

60.2 years X $432/yr = $26,006.40

The problem with this reward system, obviously, is that the type of person who might be motivated by beer as a reward is going to want more than 12 bottles a month. And the person not motivated by beer is going to want more than $432/yr. In fact, $432 is not much of a reward for a laptop and, given the questionable information security practices of the company (e.g. no current backups), is there any real guarantee that they would be around to deliver bottles for years two and three let alone in perpetuity?

Totalitarian Lawns and Johnny Appleseed

“A lawn is nature under totalitarian rule.”

Michael Pollan apparently wrote that in Second Nature. Someone I work with pointed me to another book of his that is a study of Johnny Appleseed. I found it very compelling, especially in the sense that he looked for root-cause (pun not intended) rather than settle with the pulp of commercial drivel also known as Disney. PBS did an interview with him where he summarizes:

GWEN IFILL: So as a gardener, which you admit to being, a backyard gardener of sorts in Connecticut, how did you make these connections between human impulse and the plant world?

MICHAEL POLLAN: Well, it all started with the bumblebee. I mean, the premise of the book is very, very simple. I… One day in the garden I was watching a bumblebee alongside me while I was sewing [sic] seeds and thought, “well, what do I have in common with a bee as a gardener?” and realized more than I realized. Like the bumblebee, I was disseminating the genes of one species, a potato instead of a leek, say, rather than another. And like the bumblebee, I thought these plants were here for my benefit, you know, all the plants in the garden I was growing. But in fact, I realized maybe they had induced me to help them, because, you know, the bumblebee breaks into the flower, finds the nectar, thinks he’s making off with the goods and thinks he’s getting the better of the deal with the flower. But, in fact, it’s the flower that has tricked the bumblebee into doing the work for him, to take his pollen from flower to flower to flower. And then I realized well, what if… So from the flower’s point of view, the bumblebee is this credulous gullible animal, and how would we look to our plants… from our plant’s point of view? And I realize we’re much the same; we’re more like the bumblebee than we think.

I love that analysis. We are gullible if we think that we are totally in control of how we choose the food we eat. People love to be led, and those that seem to want the least regulations also appear to be the ones easiest to lead. I think this is explored best in the book Fast Food Nation: The Dark Side of the All-American Meal. Anyway, back to the Appleseed story:

GWEN IFILL: Well, you tell… You talk about sweetness, beauty, intoxication and control. And sweetness you talk about the apple.

MICHAEL POLLAN: Yeah.

GWEN IFILL: How does Johnny Appleseed figure into this?

MICHAEL POLLAN: Well, Johnny Appleseed, in a way, he’s kind of a pagan patron saint of the book. I didn’t even know when I started this that he was a real historical figure, by John Chapman. I thought he was one of those kindergarten folk heroes, you know, like Paul Bunyon, that’s made up. It turns out Johnny Appleseed, John Chapman, was a real historical figure who played a very important role in the frontier in the Northwest territory. And I also found out that the version of Johnny Appleseed I learned in kindergarten was completely wrong, had been Disney-fied, cleaned up and made very benign. He’s a much more interesting character. The way figured this out was I learned this one botanical fact about apples, which is, if you plant the seeds of an apple, like a red delicious or a golden delicious, the offspring will look nothing like the parent, will be a completely different variety and will be inedible. You cannot eat apples planted from seeds. They must be grafted, cloned.

GWEN IFILL: And they’re not American fruit.

MICHAEL POLLAN: They’re not, no. I learned it comes from Kazakhstan and has made its way here and changed a lot along the way. And so the fact that Johnny Appleseed was planting apples from seed, which he insisted on– he though grafting was wicked– meant they were not edible apples, and it meant they were for hard cider because you can use any kind of apple for making cider. Really, what Johnny Appleseed was doing and the reason he was welcome in every cabin in Ohio and Indiana was he was bringing the gift of alcohol to the frontier. He was our American Dionysus.

The fundamentalists who sought prohibition threated to destroy the story of Mr. Appleseed. Thus the story was somehow adapted to leave out the grain of alcohol. It also seems to leave out some of the more obvious motivation of “homesteading” land. He is portrayed as someone who was a friend of native inhabitants because he was not afraid to speak with them, while he actually was probably negotiating with them to let him “enhance” property (grow trees) in order to legally claim it as his own under nascent laws and profit from sale to a settler.

Dr. Crippen Exonerated

Reuters reports that the police convicted Crippen on false evidence:

A team led by John Trestrail, head of the regional poison centre in Grand Rapids, Michigan, took mitochondrial DNA — genetic material passed on through the mother — from a tissue sample from the corpse kept in a London museum.

They then compared it with samples from three of Cora Crippen’s female descendants, found after a 7-year search.

“That body was not Cora Crippen’s,” said David Foran, a forensic biologist at Michigan State University. “We don’t know who that body was or how it got there.”

As I read this I thought about an incident I had to investigate recently.

Business executives, as expected, quickly wanted a summary of events and then to move on in their work. They threw some opinions around and weighed in before the facts were fully known, as if making a decision about general operational risks.

The security team, on the other hand, wanted to study the data and come to a reliable understanding of the threat as well as vulnerabilities before letting the case be closed.

You can guess which one carries more weight in the average corporate environment. Let me try to put it a different way:

If the job is to keep the business processes firing (like pistons in an engine) then reactions will be necessarily oriented to moving things along without delay. If the job is to keep the business running (like avoiding a cliff) then delay might be warranted if danger is ahead.

Why did a team want to research the Crippen case? Curiosity and doubt about the accuracy of conviction, surely, which is also the sort of quality you should seek in security teams who will be faced with incident response and investigation.

Identities and Cemeteries

The AP calls it a “Grave Error“. Apparently two men are being buried in a military cemetery with the same name and same social security number, one a popular family man and the other alone and homeless:

“I’ve got 200,000 people buried here, but I’ve never seen anything like this,” Calverton director Michael Picerno said. “Ninety-nine percent of the time, the family has all the information, all the documentation, so these things never happen.”

Well, 99% of 200,000 is 198,000, so that leaves 2,000 people buried without all the documentation. Seems like a sizeable number.

Officials are exploring several scenarios in trying to solve the mystery.

One is identity theft — the man who died in 2003 could have simply stolen Willie Hayes’ personal information at some point and went to his grave as an impostor.

I guess it is unlikely he stole it after he went to his grave.

Another is that the man in the grave really was named Willie Hayes — and perhaps even a veteran — but his Social Security number and personal information somehow got mixed up with those of the other Willie Hayes.

Somehow? What kind of scenario includes “somehow” as the root-cause?

I have not looked into it but I suppose there is no advantage to identity theft in death except for in the military cemeteries.