I'm reminded of a poem.
I hope Motorola enjoyed stepping into Apple's web, fraudulently preventing the sale of Apple products, even if it was only for a few hours is not likely to go down too well with the courts.
Quote:
The Spider and the Fly
Mary Howitt
Will you walk into my parlour?" said the Spider to the Fly,*
'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy;*
The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,*
And I've a many curious things to shew when you are there."*
Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "to ask me is in vain,*
For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again."*
"I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high;*
Will you rest upon my little bed?" said the Spider to the Fly.*
"There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin,*
And if you like to rest awhile, I'll snugly tuck you in!"*
Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "for I've often heard it said,*
They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!"*
Said the cunning Spider to the Fly, " Dear friend what can I do,*
To prove the warm affection I 've always felt for you?*
I have within my pantry, good store of all that's nice;*
I'm sure you're very welcome -- will you please to take a slice?"*
"Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "kind Sir, that cannot be,*
I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!"*
"Sweet creature!" said the Spider, "you're witty and you're wise,*
How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes!*
I've a little looking-glass upon my parlour shelf,*
If you'll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself."*
"I thank you, gentle sir," she said, "for what you 're pleased to say,*
And bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day."*
The Spider turned him round about, and went into his den,*
For well he knew the silly Fly would soon come back again:*
So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner sly,*
And set his table ready, to dine upon the Fly.*
Then he came out to his door again, and merrily did sing,*
"Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver wing;*
Your robes are green and purple -- there's a crest upon your head;*
Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!"*
Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little Fly,*
Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by;*
With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew,*
Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue --*
Thinking only of her crested head -- poor foolish thing! At last,*
Up jumped the cunning Spider, and fiercely held her fast.*
He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den,*
Within his little parlour -- but she ne'er came out again!*
And now dear little children, who may this story read,*
To idle, silly flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed:*
Unto an evil counsellor, close heart and ear and eye,*
And take a lesson from this tale, of the Spider and the Fly.
The Spider and the Fly
Mary Howitt*