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Scrivener's Error |
Law and reality in publishing (seldom the same thing) from the author's side of the slush pile, with occasional forays into military affairs, censorship and the First Amendment, legal theory, and anything else that strikes me as interesting. |
link to: 13:38 [GMT-6]
There's a rather British flavor to today's link sausages... let's just hope it's from good porter or dark ale and not from Marmite, ok?
The Supreme Court of the United Kingdom issued its ruling in Lucasfilm Ltd. v. Ainsworth, 2011 UKSC 39 (27 Jul 2011) (PDF), this morning. Lucasfilm sought to enjoin the UK-based craftsman who created the original Stormtrooper helmet design and mould for the film from various descriptions and drawings (and took the mould with him at the conclusion of principal photography) from making replicas using that mould and selling them without a license from Lucasfilm. Lucasfilm pointed to a US-court copyright decision holding that the helmet design was a protected, copyrightable aspect of the films as a whole, and enjoining sale in the US. The UK Supreme Court held, though, that under the UK's 1988 Act, the useful ("utiliarian") aspect of the helmets, together with the numbers of them created for the film (which only emphasized the utilitarian purpose), overcame any UK law copyright claim. Id., ¶¶ 4249.
But that is where Brainerd Currie, the Sith Lord of Choice of Law, comes into play. The more-interesting question is whether the UK courts should, instead, have used US law... and merely applied the fully litigated US result against the UK-resident Ainsworth. OK, it's more interesting to civil procedure geeks like me, anyway... even though it should be more interesting to authors, too, for many of the same reasons that US-based authors need to be concerned with UK-based libel law, as I've discussed here ad nauseum. Here, the UK Supreme Court reached what is probably the right result, but for very much the wrong reasons (and reasons that will ultimately only add to the confusion). It held that the UK court could, and perhaps should, have heard Lucasfilm's claim for enforcement of the US copyright (and presumably domesticated the judgment). Id., ¶¶ 10509. It did so, however, by a rather tortured expedition through precedent without a theoretical basis — the theoretical basis that would be provided by the powers of the Force, or at least of Currie's interest analysis. The ultimate problem with the UK Supreme Court's decision is that it leaves far too much open, even in this case; the judgment does not tell the litigants what the effect of its split decision is on the litigation in question, let alone on broader issues!
So, where does that leave us? Waiting, I'm afraid, for a Jedi Knight wielding a working lightsaber to cut a rather Gordian knot. The only winners here — as usual — are the lawyers; it remains unclear whether, for example, whether a UK artist who created arms and armor for the Knight of Flowers (The Game of Thrones) solely from the text of the book, without reference to the TV production, could be correctly sued in a UK court for violating either US or UK copyright law in creating a derivative work. And that's before one considers remedies such as damages as a remaining issue. In short, just like the first Star Wars film, this ultimately decided nothing; there will be at least two sequels, and — given the appallingly poor writing endemic in law and reflected in this morning's decision — the dark menace of a potential prequel trilogy. In 3D.
And bribing African nations to adopt your textbooks is no solution, either.
Labels: civil rights, copyright, intellectual property, internet, jurisprudence, mass media, publishing
link to: 12:54 [GMT-6]
Just the kid-sized platter of link sausages this afternoon, as I've got Stuff and Life and Remoras to take care of...
Labels: culture, internet, politics, publishing
link to: 11:09 [GMT-6]
... long live the chain.
The demise of Borders is far from unexpected. The initial bankruptcy filing demonstrated all of the seeds of it — including, but not limited to, well-above-average-interest-rate terms offered for debtor-in-possession financing. There remain a few issues to consider, as lessons learned in general and for authors/publishers/those who give a rat's ass about books, that are sneaking under the radar.
The first, and perhaps most obvious, is that books are not boxes of macaroni and cheese... and that whatever "brand loyalty" exists in publishing is not to the publisher(s), but to authors. This is the real problem with management in both publishing and in distribution today. If one actually looks at the data and mathematical models behind everything that gets taught in American business schools; and that gets taught to and imposed upon financiers; and that underlies virtually every successful derivative securities lawsuit — it is the struggle over fungibility. Because dealing with fungibility is something that can be mathematically modelled, and therefore is (at least somewhat) reproducible, that's what gets published, and taught, and imposed as internal standards, and imposed as "behavior of a prudent investor or author." And, of course, that is the very opposite of the definition of "art" or "culture" or "literature" or "authorship"... or, in a more general sense, "intellectual property." The entire point of "intellectual property" as a meme is that individual pieces of IP are not fungible, and that copies of those individual pieces of IP are only partially fungible in that the pieces must maintain an identical fit. In short, the Borders failure is almost entirely the fault of "efficiency" as a measure of managerial competence, acceptability... and access to finance and markets.
A second issue is the unstated presumptions built into the bankruptcy system in favor of interests in real property over just about everyone else. The impact of the landlords on this mess is obvious when comparing the anticipated return from sale of inventory and the amount that would return to the vendors (my back-of-the-envelope calculations indicate it would be between 70 and 80 percent), even after allowing for payment of nonmanagerial employees, and the estimated total return of around 22 percent to all creditors. And, sadly, this isn't just the physical-property landlords; it also includes landlocked tax authorities, utilities, etc. Lurking behind all of this is the assumption that returns from ownership of real property interests must always increase over time, even in declining economic circumstances. Once again, exploring the data sets and the math actually used to manipulate those data sets becomes extremely interesting, particularly in light of "too big to fail" presumptions (more formally, diseconomies of scale).
Geography also plays a side role in this, strongly related to (but independent from) the role of real-property interests. The physical distance between Ann Arbor, Michigan (Borders' longtime headquarters) and Dallas, Texas, is greater than that between Paris and Moscow physically, and about the same culturally. There's a reason that Books-a-Million is being so careful about not expanding too far beyond its southeastern-US base for those stores it is buying/considering buying, with a couple of exceptions as possible brand-name footholds: BAMM's management is smart enough to know that it doesn't know market conditions (or landlord assumptions, or damned near anything else) more than a comfortable day's drive from its headquarters... that is, the distance from Paris to Berlin.1 When Borders was a successful chain, its locations were within a day's drive of its headquarters in Ann Arbor; indeed, few of its locations were more than a day's drive from each other. That compactness led to certain distributional efficiencies that management assumed would continue as the chain expanded beyond that, for lack of a better term, event horizon... so that management really did need to be worried about whether what "played in Peoria" would make for the appropriate stocking decisions in New York. Or Los Angeles. Or Seattle.2
Last, for now, and far from least, is the cultural disjuncture between decisionmakers inside of publishing and its distribution arms and its potential/actual customer base. This is epitomized by the whitewashing problem that I've discussed here several times before. Put as baldly as I can, it really doesn't matter how much interest one can generate among one's culturally-homogeneous peers inside the industry and inside the distribution channels; what matters is interest among the people actually putting their money on the line for it. An example from Borders' history might help understand this. In the early 1990s, I was stationed in Washington, DC, and frequently shopped at a Borders on Rockville Pike. This particular store was staffed with intelligent book people who not only knew their stock, but had at least some familiarity with what was not in stock but otherwise available. I visited the same store again a few years later, after the Kmart takeover, and noted the severe changes. The military affairs section had shrunk (in DC!) in favor of a considerably larger generic-romance section, and similarly for politics/current events giving space away to celebrity/memoirs; the staff seemed as if it would have been more comfortable asking if I wanted fries with my order; and so on. In short, it had become an outlet, not a store. And I, with my personal library and general book acquisitiveness, am precisely the customer that a bookstore should want to appeal to. Borders didn't; and their loss became... their loss.
Labels: arts, copyright, culture, intellectual property, jurisprudence, politics, publishing
link to: 15:39 [GMT-6]
We've had three of the hottest years in the last century in the last six. Global warming is at least more probable than the Easter Bunny... or politicians genuinely working for the public good... or Illinois governors staying out of jail.
The key point is that if the parties put another settlement proposal on the table, there will be another round of solicitation of authors (and estates, etc.)... and it's going to confuse the hell out of a lot of people. I'll do my best to help people ask intelligently for advice concerning their individual situations, but that's not a solicitation — not the least due to potential conflicts of interest!
More to the point, even if the dissent is correct that some authors, in the long run, are helped, not hurt, by Database reproductions, the fact remains that the Authors who brought the case now before us have asserted their rights under § 201(c). We may not invoke our conception of their interests to diminish those rights.
New York Times Co., Inc. v. Tasini, 533 U.S. 483, 49798 n.6 (2001).
Labels: copyright, culture, intellectual property, internet, politics, publishing
link to: 13:24 [GMT-6]
Life has again intervened... Anybody want a couple of remoras?
An article at The Bookseller recounts, sans details of any kind, what HarperCollins — the bound-volume-publishing outpost of Mordor NewsCorp — claims is a "crude attempt to link a business disagreement with more serious matters." Well, I'm not as circumspect as is Mr Wylie for a very simple reason: My involvement with HC of late has been as a consultant to people trying to bridge the gap between a sale in principle and a contract, not as a sales agent implicitly dependent upon HC as a substantial part of the market (an oligopsonist, if you will). And, therefore, I will name two (of several) issues in HC's more-recent trade fiction contract offers and negotiation postures that justify a substantial inquiry into HC:
Over to you, minions of Sauron.
Labels: arts, culture, intellectual property, politics, publishing
link to: 11:19 [GMT-6]
Rachel Sprung, "5 Marketing Lessons from Harry Potter," Hubspot (12 Jul 2011). This is utter bullshit. For one thing, the Harry Potter work that began it all (HP and the Philosopher's Stone) predates all of these "efforts"... and was an astounding success, by the standards of mid- to late-1990s YA/children's fiction, well before any of these purported principles was "applied" to it. More importantly, though, there's a critical element entirely missing from the list that is far more important than any marketingspeak bullshit:
It's not too difficult to see that the HP imitators — almost all of which have followed some variation on Ms Sprung's advice — have failed to dislodge HP from its primacy (and, indeed, made rather few inroads against its dominance) primarily because, well, they're largely garbage. Harry Potter is not Shakespearean in some timeless highbrow manner... but it's not competing in the market for Shakespeare, either, and it might as well be when compared to some of its successors (and you know who you are; and, conversely, you know who you aren't, too). Further, it didn't need to be Shakespeare in the vast wasteland of YA/children's fiction in the 1990s; it only needed to not be Edward Bulwer-Lytton or James Fenimore Cooper.
The problem with the meme that "selling iceboxes to Eskimos" is the mark of a great salescreature is that it neglects the necessary judgment on what to sell in the first place. I'd choose to sell high-quality portable heaters to that market; Ms Sprung, however — and those of her ilk — would rather pretend that what one orders for one's inventory should, or does, have little to no effect on the means one uses to sell it. This is even more important when one is dealing with creative works rather than commodities; but then, unlike marketing dorks, I understand basic thermodynamics, so I do not see marketing efforts as frictionless/costless to the system.
Labels: culture, jurisprudence, mass media, politics, publishing
link to: 10:42 [GMT-6]
Slowly accreting over the weekend on top of a migraine...
You can see both sides of the issue. Do characters belong to the person who created them? Or to the fans who love them so passionately that they spend their nights and weekends laboring to extend those characters' lives, for free? There's a division here, a geological fault line, that looks small on the surface but runs deep into our culture, and the tectonic plates are only moving farther apart. Is art about making up new things or about transforming the raw material that's out there? Cutting, pasting, sampling, remixing and mashing up have become mainstream modes of cultural expression, and fan fiction is part of that. It challenges just about everything we thought we knew about art and creativity.
"The Boy Who Lived Forever," Time (07 Jul 2011).
This is a remarkably ignorant piece of bullshit from someone who did graduate work in English at Yale. Leaving aside the logic problems — not just the false dilemma, but the presumption that "ownership" means "inviolable" — doesn't he recall any truly basic literary theory?1 Just because our courts have (mistakenly) conflated so much into "property" as part of the centuries-long trend rejecting equity as a foundational aspect of law doesn't mean that literature and the arts must make the same error! Ultimately, the problem with fan fiction is not "ownership" or "infringement," but "undue interference" — an explicitly equitable concept that requires applying judgment to particular (and changing) factual circumstances. This, however, does not lend itself well to creating bright-line rules... which is precisely why the concept has been rejected by most of the players in this little immorality play. Hint: Easy cases (and rules) make more bad law (and behavior) than do hard ones.
Labels: copyright, culture, intellectual property
link to: 13:08 [GMT-6]
...title sort of inspired by the musical guest on last night's rerun of Letterman, which was on in the background while I was wrestling with some contract language...
"Unconstitutional" means "prohibited means or goal for the government," not "stupid or self-defeating."
Unfortunately, very few commentators — including several leading constitutional scholars — are making the distinction between "stupid and self-defeating because it's paralyzing" and "unconstitutional because it's a prohibited means or goal for government" in the rhetorical wars over the debt ceiling. The debt ceiling falls closely enough within a combination of the Commerce Clause and the Necessary and Proper Clause that — regardless of negative-spaces arguments based on the Fourteenth Amendment — it is not unconstitutional. It is, instead, stupid, self-defeating, and polemical self-aggrandizement for a mathematically- and evidentially-refuted version of Maxwell's Daemon applied to macroeconomics and partisan electioneering.
There is a bid on the table to "S[ell] Substantially All of the Debtors' Assets Free and Clear of All Liens, Claims, Encumbrances and Interests and the Assumption and Assignment of Executory Contracts and Unexpired Leases" (Doc. 1130 (PDF), hearing set for 21 Jul 2011). In short, there's a deal on the table — which requires approval by the Bankruptcy Judge — to sell Borders as a going concern to an investor group, along with its stores, etc.
Yay, stores! No more closings, right?
Not so fast. A little bit of math will show that this is a very, very bad deal for authors and publishers... and, nonetheless, about the best that they can expect to get. At the proposed initial-bid sale price of $215 million, the new operator is proposing to acquire (Doc. 1130 at 12; all ellipses added and relate to technical identification of the purchaser):
... to acquire all assets of Debtors (other than Excluded Assets) including (i) real property leases and contracts to be designated ... for assumption and assignment, (ii) equipment and improvements in transferred stores and distribution centers, (iii) intellectual property, (iv) inventory other than inventory in stores for which the leases are not being assumed and assigned ... (the “Store Closing Locations”), (v) accounts receivable from sales of inventory, (vi) Debtors' equity interest in Kobo, Inc., (vii) goodwill of the Debtors, (viii) books, records, files, including customer lists, (ix) cash, (x) rights to direct the disposition of inventory at Store Closing Locations and receive the proceeds thereof and (xi) foreign franchisor rights.
which becomes more comprehensible when compared to what is being excluded (id. at 1213):
Specifically excluded from Acquired Assets are...: (i) corporate and tax records of the Debtors, (ii) claims of Debtors relating to Excluded Assets or Excluded Liabilities, (iii) tax refunds, pre-payments, net operating losses and claims for the period prior to closing, (iv) capital stock of the Debtors and their subsidiaries (other than the Debtors' interest in Kobo, Inc.), (v) claims ... related to the Purchase Agreement; (vi) real property leases and contracts not assumed and assigned ...; (vii) equipment and leasehold improvements in Store Closing Locations, (viii) inventory located at Store Closing Locations, (ix) business licenses and permits that relate exclusively to the Debtors' headquarters building or to any Store Closing Location, (x) certain designated deposits, (xi) confidential personnel and medical records of employees who do not become employees ..., (xii) assets relating to Debtors' employee benefit plans, (xiii) avoidance actions, (xiv) assets sold or disposed of between the date of the Agreement through the Closing Date and (xv) certain other specified assets.
The bad news for publishers — and therefore for authors — is that accounts payable are not directly disposed of. This means, in turn, that that $215 million (or whatever final sales price is actually approved by the Bankruptcy Court) would go into the common pool of money available to compensate everyone who has claims. That's not just the publishers, but the landlords, the utility companies, the employees, the tax authorities... and the professionals who are facilitating the bankruptcy process, who are actually in line before any of those other claimants. And, in some magical math that always seems (under either US or European accounting) to be validated at the final tally in multistate-retail-sector bankruptcies, over 80% of any increase in the amount received over $215 million (the initial bid) will go to those professionals for their roles in increasing the total value of the sale. Based on everything that has thus far been declared, back-of-the-envelope calculations indicate that publishers eventually will be receiving between 20 and 25% of what Borders owed them on the date of the bankruptcy filing. <SARCASM> But authors don't need to worry at all; there's no way that publishers would even consider trying to pass the loss of income on to authors, no matter what the authors' contracts say. </SARCASM>
Labels: culture, jurisprudence, mass media, politics, publishing
link to: 10:57 [GMT-6]
Labels: internet, mass media, politics, publishing
link to: 11:50 [GMT-6]
(Continued from yesterday; the Monday link sausages are all destined for the barbecue as my kids do the Caucasian-American rain dance, since the vegetarian crawled out of the marinade again this year.)
Reflexiveness. Reflections (and refractions). Optical delusions and illusions and "Real America" and marketing wisdom. Yes, there is a reflected image still in that fun-house mirror that goes a long way toward explaining how this all fits together. It's not just the ends and means that have been improperly conflated by the intermediary classes; more damagingly, those intermediary classes really believe that their images in the fun-house mirrors represent not just themselves — that is, the intermediary classes — but the entire public, whether considered as a body politic or a body literate.7
One of the best examples of this phenomenon began bubbling up from the depths almost exactly forty years ago. Admittedly, things were a little bit different in mid-1971: The campaign for President of the United States was just beginning to get underway among the intermediary classes; nobody knew (yet) about Nixon's dirty tricks; and nobody had yet identified that the political wing of the intermediary class was no longer exclusively fifty-to-seventy-year-old white Protestant men. In short order, this resulted in the "Canuck letter" that knocked the candidate with the best chance of unseating Nixon out of the race... primarily due to an expansion of the intermediary class to include a younger demographic, which exploded at the 1972 Democratic National Convention and resulted in the extreme arrogance of the disastrous McGovern campaign and a subclass of intermediaries that still doesn't believe it lost the election.8
The Democratic Party leadership in 1972 became the model for today's intermediary class. Ironically in some ways — but entirely predictably to anyone who looks at actual voting and policy patterns in nation-states that suddenly change from nonrepresentative to representative governments, in particular those of Europe during the Age of Revolution (roughly 17851853) — the change from "smoke-filled back rooms" to "party primary elections" as the means of selecting candidates for major office has resulted in less-representative candidates for those major offices, particularly in linked tickets (usually President/Vice President and Governor/Lieutenant Governor, but sometimes extending to legislative posts, too). How else to explain Geraldine Ferraro, Dan Quayle, and Sarah Palin, and more other "ticket-balancing candidates" with little obvious qualification for the respective offices than I can count? This occurs largely because the intermediary class — for this purpose, party leadership and activists — honestly believes not just that the body politic should accept intermediary-class leadership and policy preferences... but that it already does, and just needs a little bit of sales to help it understand that it does. That is, the intermediary class believes that what it sees in the fun-house mirror isn't just the intermediary class, but "Real America."
Also in the 1970s. we began seeing much the same thing happening in various parts of the entertainment industry. In 1973, a major popular-music record label selected a new president from its marketing staff who had only a few months working in A&R (the then-equivalent of the editorial department at a publisher), and the news was all over the industry rags. Today, it's news when a label president is not either a marketing expert, the founder of the label (usually a "renegade" recording artist), or a manager for a recording artist. Similarly, in the early 1970s virtually all film- and TV-studio heads had substantial experience themselves as producers and executive producers; today, that is extremely rare. The publishing segment has certainly not escaped this trend, with both conglomerate presidents and those with the title of Publisher predominantly coming from the sales-and-marketing part of the business (PDF).
Of course, none of this is limited to party politics, nor the entertainment industry; recognition that "banking" is inherently not productive, but an intermediary, seems to have escaped most commentators who decry the loss of American manufacturing capacity and "good jobs for Real Americans." Where party politics and the entertainment make excessive influence of intermediaries even more dangerous, though, is in the outsourcing of the intermediaries. In politics, this is toward powerful private citizens outside of government, who are not accountable to either government or the citizenry, but nonetheless have inordinate influence over both policy and who gets to take up the banner as a "policymaker."9 In the entertainment industry — and in particular the publishing segment — this is toward the increasingly powerful indirect distribution segments. The big distributors and chain stores have inordinate power now... and, ultimately, are at the root of the whitewashing problem,10 and arguably at the root of the glass ceiling for editors.11
Just like "the map is not the territory," "the intermediary is not the market" — whether it's a market of ideas or whatever. Too bad the intermediary class seems unable, or at least unwilling, to acknowledge that; it explains far too much about the Mad Tea Party, and about James Patterson, and about Danielle Steele, and...
Labels: culture, politics, publishing
link to: 10:06 [GMT-6]
Rather than a platter of link sausages the day before we celebrate our first declaration of "Mission Accomplished," I thought I'd bore you with some theoretical musings that have been getting more focused over the last decade... and more useful as predictors of the future. Just bear with me, authors; this might scare you, but it might be educational and helpful, too.
So, then: How are contemporary American politics and contemporary American commercial entertainment (and, in particular, publishing) merely slightly distorted reflections of each other... and the closer one looks, the less the reflections are distortions?
Perhaps the most obvious relationship between the two seemingly disparate fields is their use — indeed, overuse and reliance upon, to the exclusion of all else — of theatrical overacting as the sole means of appealing to their respective audiences. This isn't always literally acting, either; just look at the blurbs accompanying the Next! Bestselling! Thriller! from any New York commercial publisher, or the Next! Summer! Blockbuster! from any H'wood studio, or the Next! Last! Hope! of the Endangered! American! Middle! Class! emerging from some semi-obscure portion of Real! America! More to the point, look at all of the extended campaign speeches masquerading as political memoirs that have hit bestseller lists over the years, particularly since Ford's memoir1 made them (somewhat) sexy. I can hardly wait for Monica Goodling's2...
That, however, is only a surface reflection; it concerns methods far more than substance. Instead, there's a far more fundamental, and structural, similarity that explains why both are broken, perhaps beyond mere repair: The audience of intermediaries no longer has sufficient congruence with the audience of the public at large, because the very purposes of those audiences has become not just disparate, but inconsistent. American idealism proposes that government is a mechanism for enabling both individuals and the collective "We, the People" to pursue a better good, for disparate, crankily individualistic, and truly strange definitions of both "better" and "good." Perhaps the best example of this is the twisting of the Intellectual Property Clause:
The Congress shall have Power... [t]o promote the Progress of Science and useful Arts, by securing for limited Times to Authors and Inventors the exclusive Right to their respective Writings and Discoveries;3
which tells us that copyright, and patents, and distribution of individual copies of writings (and other works of art) and inventions, have a purpose of "promot[ing] the progress of science and useful arts" through a mechanism of a limited economic monopoly — a grant of power over the particular writing/invention by the state for the benefit of all, whatever that benefit might turn out to be.
That is all well and good. It is imperfect; but then, it is human, and therefore will be imperfect no matter what. It is certainly an improvement upon every system for encouraging innovation on a broad level that had been tried before.4 I should not need to remind a nation of cranky individualists of the dangers of patronage as the filter for all progress and public discourse (although it appears that such a reminder is, indeed, necessary5). The problem is that the respective intermediaries have forgotten that "ends shape means," and "means shape ends," but that the ends are not the same thing as the means. Instead, they've accepted the Gravitational Accretion Maxim of Life:
The object of power is power.6
Understanding that the sole purpose of the intermediaries — whether we're talking about partisan apparatchiks or sales-and-marketing dorks who have been promoted to management positions within an entertainment-industry business really doesn't matter — is to consolidate their personal positions by increasing what got them those personal positions explains an awful lot about the entertainment industry... and American politics. The key distinction, though, isn't that the intermediaries are in fact different from their respective audiences; it's that they perceive themselves as different from their respective audiences, and rely upon "divide and conquer" tactics in consolidating that position. That distinction is both a necessary and a sufficient explanation for
and more other problems common to both the entertainment industry and politics than I can count. Certainly, there will be some overlap between any two major segments of a society; this, however, is more than a bit ridiculous.
There is a certain self-reference, a certain reflexiveness, in this that is all too appropriate to the American celebration of a "declaration of independence" instead of either the victory in the following war or the inception of America as a united entity. So, for that matter, is the concept that American distrust of monopolies and monopsonies should be discounted for monopolies and monopsonies that have, even once in the distant past, been part of "innovation"... whether we're talking about financial or political markets. And that's just the way it is.
I'm not proposing a violent revolution of any kind; can you just imagine trying to get gathering of authors, or of artists, or of musicians, to agree on anything? I am, instead, suggesting that individual authors — and individuals concerned with politics — embrace Margaret Mead's aphorism that one should not doubt that a few strong and enlightened individuals can make a difference... because that's the only thing that ever has. That is also the principle underlying the Intellectual Property Clause: That given appropriate incentive, creative individuals will, through their efforts, create and thereby promote progress. The irony of emphasizing "enlightened" and a document written during the Enlightenment, compared to what actually happens on the Fourth of July here in East Central Redneckistan (which is definitely part of what Palin and Bachmann would call "Real America" — we know damned well what plays in Peoria, which is only a two-hour drive away), is just too much before caffeine. Or, as Ben Franklin himself might have preferred, real ale/beer brewed under Reinheitsgebot (1516) (the German beer purity law).
Labels: arts, culture, intellectual property, politics, publishing, sport
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Sausages?
Internet link sausages, as frequently appear here, are gathered from uninspected meaty internet products and byproducts via processes you really, really don't want to observe; spiced with my own secret, snarky, sarcastic blend; quite possibly extended with sawdust or other indigestibles; and stuffed into your monitor (instead of either real or artificial casings). They're sort of like "link salad" or "pot pourri" or "miscellaneous musings" (or, for that matter, "making law"), but far more disturbing.
I am not responsible for any changes to your lipid counts or blood pressure from consuming these sausages... nor for your monitor if you insist on covering them with mash or sauce.
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