The latest online legal news is that someone is miffed that his old school buddies aren’t looking for him and wants redress in court. Anthony Michaels of San Diego was a free member of the Web site www.Classmates.com, which permitted him to list his name, class, graduation year, e-mail address and ZIP code.

Shortly after joining up—on Christmas Eve 2007, to add to the pathos—Michaels began receiving e-mail and other communications from Classmates.com encouraging him to bump up to the Gold Membership because classmates were viewing his profile and trying to reach him through the site. According to those messages, the premium subscription would let him “see where friends live now on Classmates maps,” “find out who’s visited and signed your profile,” and “chat on your school’s message board.”

Michaels upgraded, to the tune of $15 for a three-month premium membership, and clicked through eagerly to see who was trying to get a message to him.

What he got for his money, Michaels said in the court filing, was a big fat nothing. No one at all was trying to reach him. Not a soul, neither the girl who broke up with him right before prom nor that kid from gym who could turn his eyelids inside out.

No sportos, motorheads, geeks, sluts, buds, wasteoids, dweebies or di*kheads e-mailing to call him a “righteous dude.” Nobody he knew had left messages, and the only views of his profile were from nobody he knew.

Basically it was the Web version of a wedgie (a/k/a the Melvin, a/k/a the hinderbinder, depending on where you got yours, geographically speaking.)

So Michaels has filed a lawsuit against the companies that run Classmates.com, alleging that they and their marketing agents knew they were making false claims about his classmates’ interest and accusing them of intentionally misrepresenting the facts to him in e-mail. He’s hoping to get the lawsuit certified as a class action.

Michaels also claims that his Gold Classmates.com membership rolled over automatically after three months without his consent, and he was charged another $15 for another quarter-year of service.

It’s pretty easy to laugh at this. You can take the satirical tone about this issue, for example offering Michaels unsolicited advice about other e-mail offers that he should avoid: various herbal enhancements, Nigerian bank accounts and unclaimed Dutch lottery tickets, for example.

You can also wonder humorously why someone doesn’t invent some kind of online network that would let people post their schooling and job information directly, so that friends could find them without the mediation of some third party. Some sort of… space on the Web, or perhaps a book of faces, names and contact information.

But the fact is that those of us without Fort Knox spam filters and antispyware set on “kill” have received e-mail messages and display ads that seem to be talking to us and playing on our emotions. Most often, that emotion is fear: We’ve all been urged to click through to find out how we can defend our identities, protect our computers from spyware or check our credit reports for errors.

But the desire to connect is another vulnerable spot, and one that might be more likely to prey on the elderly or isolated, too. A lot of the complaints posted about Classmates.com to www.ConsumerAffairs.org are from people who mention trying to reach dying friends through the service (and being unable to log in) or being on fixed incomes.

Most of us have gotten accustomed to these marketing messages that skate along that thin line between a strong call to action and out-and-out lying. We know that in fact we’re in no danger and, on the other hand, are probably not missing out on a lot of fond reunions with old friends either.

But usage doesn’t make it right, and if people are being duped, it’s not good enough to say they should know better.

The latest online legal news is that someone is miffed that his old school buddies aren’t looking for him and wants redress in court. Anthony Michaels of San Diego was a free member of the Web site www.Classmates.com, which permitted him to list his name, class, graduation year, e-mail address and ZIP code.

Shortly after joining up—on Christmas Eve 2007, to add to the pathos—Michaels began receiving e-mail and other communications from Classmates.com encouraging him to bump up to the Gold Membership because classmates were viewing his profile and trying to reach him through the site. According to those messages, the premium subscription would let him “see where friends live now on Classmates maps,” “find out who’s visited and signed your profile,” and “chat on your school’s message board.”

Michaels upgraded, to the tune of $15 for a three-month premium membership, and clicked through eagerly to see who was trying to get a message to him.

What he got for his money, Michaels said in the court filing, was a big fat nothing. No one at all was trying to reach him. Not a soul, neither the girl who broke up with him right before prom nor that kid from gym who could turn his eyelids inside out.

No sportos, motorheads, geeks, sluts, buds, wasteoids, dweebies or di*kheads e-mailing to call him a “righteous dude.” Nobody he knew had left messages, and the only views of his profile were from nobody he knew.

Basically it was the Web version of a wedgie (a/k/a the Melvin, a/k/a the hinderbinder, depending on where you got yours, geographically speaking.)

So Michaels has filed a lawsuit against the companies that run Classmates.com, alleging that they and their marketing agents knew they were making false claims about his classmates’ interest and accusing them of intentionally misrepresenting the facts to him in e-mail. He’s hoping to get the lawsuit certified as a class action.

Michaels also claims that his Gold Classmates.com membership rolled over automatically after three months without his consent, and he was charged another $15 for another quarter-year of service.

It’s pretty easy to laugh at this. You can take the satirical tone about this issue, for example offering Michaels unsolicited advice about other e-mail offers that he should avoid: various herbal enhancements, Nigerian bank accounts and unclaimed Dutch lottery tickets, for example.

You can also wonder humorously why someone doesn’t invent some kind of online network that would let people post their schooling and job information directly, so that friends could find them without the mediation of some third party. Some sort of… space on the Web, or perhaps a book of faces, names and contact information.

But the fact is that those of us without Fort Knox spam filters and antispyware set on “kill” have received e-mail messages and display ads that seem to be talking to us and playing on our emotions. Most often, that emotion is fear: We’ve all been urged to click through to find out how we can defend our identities, protect our computers from spyware or check our credit reports for errors.

But the desire to connect is another vulnerable spot, and one that might be more likely to prey on the elderly or isolated, too. A lot of the complaints posted about Classmates.com to www.ConsumerAffairs.org are from people who mention trying to reach dying friends through the service (and being unable to log in) or being on fixed incomes.

Most of us have gotten accustomed to these marketing messages that skate along that thin line between a strong call to action and out-and-out lying. We know that in fact we’re in no danger and, on the other hand, are probably not missing out on a lot of fond reunions with old friends either.

But usage doesn’t make it right, and if people are being duped, it’s not good enough to say they should know better.