Vitamin C Needed

Caffeine, that is. Why "ascorbic acid" ended up as "Vitamin C"... well, actually, I do know the reason, but that's another issue entirely.

• My favorite xenophobes may finally be realizing that xenophobia is no way to preserve one's language. I have no problem with Molière et al. continuing to be in French; my problem is with a nation of subsidized farmers and bad waiters claiming prominence on the world stage for a history of cultural imperialism that makes Hollywood look positively benign.
• I broke one of my own traditions yesterday: No April Fool's Day entry. It certainly wasn't for lack of inspiration; for example, right now I'm dealing with attorneys on each coast who are competing for Greatest Discredit to the Legal Profession... and it's a very, very close contest. All I would have needed to do was post some of their writings. Instead, I'll just refer you to a couple of mad housewives.
• Once upon a time, the Beatles had a minor hit — frankly, everything on that album qualifies in some way as at least a "minor hit" — entitled "When I'm Sixty-Four." And the Denver Post completely misses the opportunity to refer back to it in an article questioning whether those who insist on rocking while drawing Social Security (or, in the case of Sir Paul McCartney, being old enough to do so, if the piddling monthly check was enough to pay for a couple hours' worth of divorce-attorney billings) are preventing younger acts from succeeding. On the one hand, there's something to be said for that; after all, bookings in arenas tend to be made by conservative marketing dorks less interested in taking risks than in sure things, and McCartney's track record for filling seats is pretty good. On the other hand, it might also say something about the musical acumen of many "young" pop-music acts... and, compared to McCartney himself, that's a particularly unkind thing to say on Monday morning. And, thus, I did.
• I despise American Idol. Not only is its emphasis on the singer's role in creating a pop hit counterproductive, but two of the three judges have little musical judgment... and the exception is not Simon (whose only redeeming characteristic is a refreshing honesty as to his opinion, even if his opinions are often off-base). Neither am I particularly a fan of Howard Stern. This time, though, the two meet in a serendipitous confluence of pop-culture idiocy, even if it's a meeting that makes Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein look positively plausible. And for that, over April Fool's Day weekend, I was moderately thankful.
• Last, and far from least, I have had a role in making the Internet safe for (free) porn. The Ninth Circuit's opinion in Perfect10, Inc. v. CCBill LLC (PDF) treats Ellison v. AOL as the template for decision, and in particular treats the requirements of § 512(i) as prerequisites for any DMCA benefit. The Internet is for porn. Of course, I've already suggested discussing that.