I used my aunt’s e-mail contact list (from an e-mail she sent me) to send a message recommending a film. I knew some of the recipients, but not others. Some complained about my e-mail — even though I wasn’t trying to sell anything, wasn’t advocating something political, and I’m the nephew of someone everyone on that list knows, so it’s not spam. Isn’t this harsh?
What an intriguing query. So intriguing, in fact, that I forwarded your e-mail to everyone on my own e-mail address book and urged all of them — since the e-mail was not spam — to forward it to everyone on their address list, too. With luck, you might now receive responses to your dilemma from interested correspondents across the globe. Who knows? Some of them might even suggest that the surest route to resolving your dilemma lies in buying an ointment that can “ increase your P*n!$ s)zE. M_ake hEr hAppY. Guar’ntE_d LOw pr;ces”.
Actually, I didn’t forward your e-mail. For all, bar those addicted to their BlackBerries, it’s tricky enough coping with being exposed to mobile phone calls and e-mails around the clock, wherever you might happen to be in the world, from people you actually know and might wish to hear from without also becoming vulnerable to a similar bombardment from strangers.
You have no more right to inflict your unsolicited e-mail on people who are known to your aunt, but who are utter strangers to you (and, more crucially, you to them), than you would have to knock on the front doors of these strangers and, uninvited, join them for dinner. Unless you are a renowned film critic, your aunt’s acquaintances will be as hungry to hear your views of new films as they would be to watch a Kevin Costner movie unsedated.