She wore her rue with a difference.

Many dears have expressed keen interest in the device that created my little $3 million start-up pool and $6 million for a friend. Remember my last letter? That’s the fellow.

It’s a handheld tester, something the size of a cell phone with pop-in module at one end and transmitter to satellite at the other. The gps receiver was at centre. We had it in cool brushed steel (plastic facsimile I’m ashamed to say), but it was slated to appear in cherry red and masculine cool blue. Before the bureaucratic fuss that ended the venture, we transferred rights to another company. The patents exist, fully loaded and ready to rock. Which brings me to – you guessed it – patent raiding.

Our little item is as adaptable as duct tape. Pluck out the module, which isn’t needed except for medical testing. Stretch the rest and narrow it and, hey presto, you own an electronic child finder. It weighs next to nothing. Little Wanda will forget she’s wearing it. It bends like ribbon and becomes a fashionable part of sleeve, sneaker or backpack. Colour it as you like, with glitter and stars if you want. And mom will never fear Wanda walking off. She’ll find her in an instant with her gps locator.

This little saga perfectly illustrates the upside of patent raiding. The plucky venture I’ve invested in has a Mensa team (selected carefully; these aren’t Asperger rejects) leaf through the patent registry. Their instructions are to imagine other uses for processes and products. The results are crazy. But that’s the whole idea, to think outside the box. The company sifts the results. One in a hundred goes to "legal", the fancy name for a couple of investigators who search the patent holder. Almost always the company is defunct. The venture picks up the patent for $100 and spins it off to a glitzy hi-tech for $50,000 plus a percentage of the profit. It’s the percentage that makes you rich. Because the venture, in high gear, turns a patent around twice a month. It hits paydirt once a year, which earns enough in percentage plus the $100,000 monthly, to buy a bottle or two of really nice Champagne. And there’s enough left for an occasional deposit to that sweet off-shore near the beach.

I confess, the whole thing has left me lazy. I drift on a little raft with my hands in the water. The sun isn’t too, too hot. But not cold either. And I think of all those patents the boys and girls are reading back in the smoke and cement. All the pages with all those words and diagrams that I can never understand. Brrrrrrr. It’s enough to drive one to tears and admiration. Still, we all soldier ahead as best we can.

Au revoir for now.