Sometimes customers sound like Huckeberry Hound. That cracks me up. However, Texas is incredibly diverse. #brony #applejack #confessionbear
YOU ARE THE REASON
trying on a metaphor
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

Andulka
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
hello vonnie

Discoholic 🪩

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
almost home

★

Janaina Medeiros
will byers stan first human second

Origami Around
ojovivo
Game of Thrones Daily
wallacepolsom
Claire Keane
DEAR READER

Kiana Khansmith
Xuebing Du

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from Australia
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Australia

seen from United States

seen from Germany

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seen from United States
seen from South Africa
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seen from Ecuador

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@laminatedtroll-blog
Sometimes customers sound like Huckeberry Hound. That cracks me up. However, Texas is incredibly diverse. #brony #applejack #confessionbear
I don't care
I feel like I'm getting fired anyday now, so I act accordingly.
I find your simulation of faith disturbing.
Definition of TROLL : a dwarf or giant in Scandinavian folklore inhabiting caves or hills
via Steven Pressfield Online
On my very first day in book publishing (way back in the typewriter days), I was forced to confront an age old dilemma.
Welcome to Publishing!
Even though I stupidly claimed that Beowulf was my favorite book at my interview, I’d been hired as editorial assistant to the editor in chief of a big mass market paperback publisher. As luck would have it, my first Monday was also “editorial meeting day” at this house. If you want to know what a publishing company is like, go to the editorial meeting. Everything you need to know will happen there. No matter what is discussed, you’ll be able to tell whether the company is doing well or not, who is riding high, who is in trouble, who is a toady, who has the chip on the shoulder, and every other important dynamic. It’s like a mandatory weekly Thanksgiving dinner with a multi-generational dysfunctional family.
As the assistants were en route to the big conference room overlooking Central Park, I made a very big mistake.
I walked into the room first.
As the fresh faced Newbie, I had no understanding of the professional culture or social faux pas. I barely knew where the bathrooms were. But I was playing it cool. Even with damp hands, an arrhythmic heartbeat and a stomach three quarters full of acid contending with an egg and cheese on a roll I’d eaten off the Halal cart on 52nd Street, I acted like Fonzie.
Rule number one for a person entering an alien environment? Don’t call attention to yourself!
The assistant to a senior editor (two steps down from an editor in chief) was tasked with showing the new guy the ropes. She was very nice. After I found a seat, she excused herself to get a cup of water down the hall.
Then the other assistants came in. They casually sidled up to the three quarter length windows above the waist high heating/air-conditioning built-ins along the north wall. It really was a spectacular view. I felt like Melanie Griffith in Working Girl.
A 9:29:30 a.m., all four of the double doors were breached and an army of tweeded big shots marched through. They dumped dog-eared manuscripts and personalized coffee cups and pulled up pleather knock off Eames chairs to the twenty foot table. It was very exciting.
My assistant friend appeared across the room, empty handed but still had a very sweet smile on her face.
“Hey Kid!”
I swiveled around and looked up at someone who would have been called “a brassy broad” in the 1960s, but in the 1990s she was simply referred to as “The Publisher.”
“Get out of my chair!”
I was once terrified to play in a football game against a man named Bill Fralic, a monster lineman who became a four time NFL All Pro Offensive tackle for the Atlanta Falcons and outweighed me by a hundred pounds. Fralic would have crumbled facing this powerhouse.
Now I’m a guy who enjoys a good laugh. But even as I write this, I’m having difficulty not hyperventilating. Twenty two years after the experience, I still remember standing up amidst a din of duped Charlie Brown like laughter. I then saw fifteen editorial assistants sitting on the raised built-in heating/AC units having the time of their lives. Not one of them told me that the conference table and chairs were only for editors…that assistants were supposed to sit on the side and keep their mouths shut until they brought money into the house instead of sucking it out of it.
So what was the timeless dilemma?
The insiders had hazed the outsider. Happens all the time.
But after being the butt of a joke, the outsider can do one of two things. He can define himself right then and there as a rogue, swallow the humiliation and use it to fuel an “I’ll show them!” ambition. He’ll take everything personally.
Or he can retreat into himself, learn the “rules” of rising in that world, and then do what’s necessary politically to become a member of the tribe. He’ll not make waves, he’ll ride them.
I wish I could tell you that I saw clearly enough back then to know that those two choices and that way of looking at the world are complete bullshit.
The truth is that the whole insider/outsider myopic view is just another form of Resistance. The fact that the assistants set me up back then didn’t mean they didn’t like me. In fact, they probably did. I must have given them the impression that I could handle a little ribbing. I wasn’t some fragile wackadoo…and there are plenty of those in book publishing who spend years without uttering a word.
I didn’t freak out on anyone after the joke either. I laughed right along with the publisher and the rest of the company. And guess what, she always said “hello” to me after that. Even though she always called me “Kid,” she learned my name. She asked me questions. One I never did answer well was “Whaddya know?” But she listened to my opinions about projects when we rode the same elevator and when a job opened and I sought it out even though I’d only been there a year, she promoted me. Take that, suckers!
I used to debate in my mind whether she gave me the job because I wasn’t afraid to stand out or because she’d brought me into her inner circle. It took me two decades to understand that she didn’t give me anything. I earned that job.
She didn’t give me a chance because I was an “insider” or because I had the fire of an “outsider.” She gave me a chance because I did the work. When she was in on the weekends, she saw me there too. When she asked me to read something, she got a report on her desk the next day. If she took the time to solicit ideas from the window seats, I spoke up. I made an ass out of myself more times than I’d like to admit but I watched, read, and learned.
While I thought I was doing it back then to “show them!” I really wasn’t. “Showing them!” doesn’t put your ass in a midtown office chair on a Sunday morning reading slush and writing flap copy. I didn’t do that out of spite. I did that because I love book publishing.
via Boing Boing
Comic book artists and Tell Me Something I Don't Know podcast producers - Ed Piskor, Jasen Lex, and Jim Rugg - visit a singular archive containing the world's largest collection of cartoon and comic book art: The Billy Ireland Cartoon Library and Museum (Columbus, OH). It's curated by Caitlin McGurk.
Film directed, edited, and scored by Julie Sokolow.
Featuring the artists: Ed Piskor (Wizzywig, Hip Hop Family Tree), Jasen Lex (Gypsy Lounge, Washington Unbound), Jim Rugg (Afrodisiac, Supermag).
via Boing Boing
Bunnie Huang paid a visit to Shenzhen's Mingtong Digital Mall and found a $12 mobile phone, with Bluetooth, an MP3 player, an OLED display and quad-band GSM. For $12.
Bunnie's teardown shows a little bit about how this $12 piece of electronics can possibly be profitable, but far more tantalizing are his notes about Gongkai, "a network of ideas, spread peer-to-peer, with certain rules to enforce sharing and to prevent leeching." It's the Pearl River Delta's answer to the open source hardware movement, and Bunnie promises to write more about it soon.
How is this possible? I don’t have the answers, but it’s something I’m trying to learn. A teardown yields a few hints.
First, there are no screws. The whole case snaps together.
Also, there are (almost) no connectors on the inside. Everything from the display to the battery is soldered directly to the board; for shipping and storage, you get to flip a switch to hard-disconnect the battery. And, as best as I can tell, the battery also has no secondary protection circuit.
The Bluetooth antenna is nothing more than a small length of wire, seen on the lower left below.
Still, the phone features accoutrements such as a back-lit keypad and decorative lights around the edge.
The electronics consists of just two major ICs: the Mediatek MT6250DA, and a Vanchip VC5276. Of course, with price competition like this, Western firms are suing to protect ground: Vanchip is in a bit of a legal tussle with RF Micro, and Mediatek has also been subject to a few lawsuits of its own.
The MT6250 is rumored to sell in volume for under $2. I was able to anecdotally confirm the price by buying a couple of pieces on cut-tape from a retail broker for about $2.10 each. [No, I will not broker these chips or this phone for you...]
The $12 Gongkai Phone
via Boing Boing
The Zero Knowledge Foundation's explainer on privacy policies is a pretty good introduction to where the fine-print on the sites you read comes from, and the surprisingly meaningful differences between different privacy policies on different sites. It's easy to assume (as I usually do) that the average privacy policy says, "You have no privacy," but there's a lot of difference between the policies on Craigslist, Facebook and Twitter, say.
The Fine Print of Privacy | Zero Knowledge Privacy Foundation (Thanks, Josh)
via Boing Boing
It's Drug Week at PopSci! They've reported on a 1884 PopSci writer's "dramatic first-hand account of marijuana overdose," a reporter's description of an LSD trip in 1967 ("He notes that under LSD, the sunset looks gorgeous, and bemoans the likelihood that he'll never see a sunset that stunning again."), and more.
I especially enjoyed Paul Adams' report about Green Dragon - a powerful tincture of cannabis created by a New York Bartender dubbed "Jon."
"Ten years ago, I had gotten my hands on this ungodly amount of hash. We couldn't smoke it all. So we started putting it into neutral grain spirit, and it dissolved in, but the thing was, we couldn't get as high. So we gave up and forgot about it for a week, and meanwhile it sat in the car in the 120° sun for a week. The next time, we took a couple of drops and it destroyed us."
"What happened? THC [the main active ingredient in cannabis] normally has a carboxyl group that's attached to it. In order for it to fit into the lock-and-key mechanism of our bodies' cannabinoid receptors, you have to break off the carboxyl group. That takes 30 years--or heat."
The carboxyl group starts breaking off as the temperature gets higher, so Jon heats his Dragon as part of the infusing process. Toasting the cannabis before infusing can drive off some of the delicate aromatics, giving it a cooked flavor, and also runs the risk of vaporizing the THC itself. So Jon heats his only to 100°C (212°F), which gives the infusion a delicate flavor and just the strength he wants, no more.
Nitrous Green Dragon
Here's how Jon does it:
a one-liter whipped-cream whipper
two nitrous oxide chargers
a double boiler large enough to accommodate the whipper bottle
750 ml mezcal at room temperature (Jon uses Vida or Sombra)
3.5 grams (1/8 ounce) of cannabis (Jon uses "indoor high-grade sativa")
Roughly break up the cannabis.
Put the cannabis and the mezcal in the whipper bottle.
Close the canister and charge it with two charges of N2O according to the instructions.
Let it sit for 5 minutes.
Vent out the pressurized gas. NOTE: you are venting aerosolized ethanol with THC dissolved in it, as well as laughing gas. Jon says "Probably nobody would want to inhale this."
Stir the liquid and let it sit until the gas boils off.
Place the sealed canister in a double boiler and let it simmer for an hour.
Strain the solids out of the liquid and discard them or dry them for other uses. The liquid is nitrous green dragon.
Drug Week
via Boing Boing
(Via The Museum of Modern Art Library)
via The Truth About Cars
Author’s note: In order to protect the identity of the victims in this case, some names and details have been omitted or changed.
There are a million stories in the Naked City. This is one of them.
It wasn’t my case. Chris had asked me to accompany him one morning as he performed some case follow- ups. In a department with over 500 sworn officers, Chris is the only detective assigned to the full- time investigation of elder exploitation for a city of 300,000 souls. Whenever he needs help, he grabs whoever isn’t busy and we tag along.
The story was familiar. The Old Man was in failing health, his mental faculties beginning the long fade into night. His wife had passed a few months before. Estranged from his son, who lived out West, he was home bound and dependant on a rotation of home health caregivers to take care of him.
With home health workers, as with everything else in life, you get what you pay for. The Old Man could afford a better than average service. He’d been an oilman and was comfortably, if not extravagantly, retired. The problem is that even if you pay an above average price, the services sometimes still employ below average people. It’s low- skilled, thankless work. Turnover is high and people with better prospects take better jobs.
It was a situation that was perfect for the Nurse, a petite blonde with all of her teeth and the pre- anorexic build that quickly appears when a girl spends her paycheck on Oxys instead of food. No direct supervision, with the patient confined to one bedroom of a rambling house full of small, pretty things that could slowly disappear. Bottles of heavy duty pain killers to be borrowed from. The Old Man didn’t miss them. He couldn’t remember having them in the first place.
Of course if the patient is male and alone, and you are a female fifty or more years his junior, it doesn’t take much to wrap him around your finger. Nothing so crass as actual sexual favors. Just a gentle hand allowed to linger on a shoulder. A low cut blouse every once in awhile. Maybe bring your kid to work one evening. Lord knows he hasn’t seen his own grandkids in years.
The requests for favors began. A cash advance towards next week’s pay. The kid really needed some new school clothes. The rent was due. She really hated to ask, but could he spot her a couple hundred to tide her over? Little by little, ten, twenty, fifty dollars at a time, it began to float away.
Eventually somebody reported it. The Nurse let herself be seen with some jewelry that the caregiver on the other shift knew had once belonged to the Old Man’s wife. And so Chris and I went there to try to get a statement from the Old Man. Chris had already been dealing with the situation for a couple of weeks and had been to the house once before.
“You’ll like him, Dave. He’s got an old Camaro.”
We were let in and led to the Old Man’s room by the caregiver who made the initial report. Chris hoped to get a statement from the Old Man that would support charging the Nurse with elder exploitation. Nothing doing. Again, the familiar routine: The Nurse wouldn’t do that. I lent it to her but forgot. Everything is fine. The Old Man’s mind was in the Senior zone. He wasn’t obviously suffering from dementia, but all of the cylinders weren’t firing either, at least not all of the time.
He knew the jewelry we were talking about and told us the story of how he bought it at Tiffany’s on a trip to New York. He remembered details about his Camaro too, when Chris mentioned that I also had one in an effort to keep the Old Man engaged.
“It’s a 1992 model. Bought it when I retired. Thought it would be more fun than a Caddy or a Lincoln. Has a custom exhaust on it. Yes, sir. Fun little car.”
An entertaining forty- five minutes, but it was clear we weren’t going to get what Chris needed to make a charge. We drove back to the office and Chris made contact with the man’s son, advising him to seek legal guardianship of his father sooner rather than later. The son said he’d look into it in a way that meant he probably wouldn’t.
A month or so passed and another report hit Chris’s desk. This time the Old Man was the complainant. The Nurse had been let go by the home health company in the interim, but she still had her claws in the Old Man. There had been more borrowed money, but the demands for it were less kind. In the report the Old Man alleged that the Nurse called him after his caregiver left for the night and asked for more. She was to call him on her cellphone when she was outside the house. Since the Old man was confined to his room, he would use the garage door opener to let visitors in and out of the house when he was alone. The Nurse made the call but when he opened the garage door to let her in, a rather large black male walked in instead, went straight to the bedroom, grabbed his wallet off the dresser, and ran away.
We went back to the house. This time the garage door was open when we arrived and I caught sight of the Old Man’s pride and joy. The white RS coupe was tucked away, covered with a thin layer of dust, but the tires glowed with a thick coating of Armor- All. The interior was spotless. Except for a tasteful gray pinstripe running down each flank and a couple of fat exhaust tips poking out of the back, it was in stock condition. While there’s nothing particularly special about an early ‘90s Camaro, the Old Man obviously loved it anyway.
Chris was hopeful that the Old Man would throw the Nurse under the bus this time. Unfortunately he had time to reflect and was now absolutely certain that the Nurse couldn’t have anything to do with it. The delay from the day the report was taken by a patrol officer to the time Chris got it two days later was a killer. Once again, we left without the crucial statements Chris needed.
He called the son again. This time he was ready to reconcile with his father. A few weeks later the Old Man moved back West with his family. The son called Chris the day after they got back home. The trip had gone fine and the Old Man seemed to his new retirement home well enough. There was just one problem:
The Camaro was missing.
via The Truth About Cars
The car business can be a pain for three distinct reasons.
The first comes from the cars that you sell. Botched repairs. Unhappy customers. Surprises that just seem to spring up and bite you in the ass. I can deal with that.
The second comes from people in the industry. Employees and contractors with productivity issues. The unending myriad of regulations and paperwork. Continuing ed classes with little relevance to reality. I can deal with that too.
What I can’t deal with is…
people who belittle the work that I do.
Those who are hopelessly inexperienced with the retail car business think of this world as some literal gold mine where you can easily buy a nice car. Take a few pictures. Post it online, and sell it for a healthy four figure profit.
If it were that easy, this business would be better than sex. Everyone would want to do it — again and again and again. Except for maybe a few old folks, confused nuns, and hermits.
I recently wrote an article for Yahoo titled, “How To Become A New Car Dealer In Seven Difficult Steps.” Those steps seem to be pretty simple on the barest of surfaces. If you pay enough money, you can join the proverbial club of car dealers.
That’s the easy part of work in any profession, spending money. The hard part comes with paying for an even more expensive education after the basic entrance fee.
I was fortunate, in the sense that I first started off working in the auction staff at five different auto auctions in the southeast. I talked to the bigger players, learned a few things, and watched for a long time before ever buying my first car.
That first car was a 1986 Honda Civic base model which I bought way back in 1999. We’re talking vinyl seats, 4-speed manual, 1.0 Liter engine, and wafer thin a/c. It took me six months and well over a hundred auctions before I was confident enough to buy my first vehicle for all of $525 at a public auction.
I adjusted the idle. Took pics. Put it on Ebay, and sold it for about $1700 to a Polish PhD student from my old alma mater, Emory University. A month later I bought a 1988 Toyota Celica All-Trac for $1600 that had all of 100k. That one I spent $700 in repairs and eventually sold it for $3300.
Two for two right? Yes, but there was a lot learned between the time I first got into this business, to the time I sold that second car.
For starters, I knew the sellers of those vehicles and the quality of the inventory they typically brought to the sales. In fact I worked their lanes at the auctions as a member of the auction staff and they knew that if I got burnt, it may cost them as well.
With those experiences, I also took part in all the major tricks needed to stimulate and simulate demand on the auction block. Running the bid up, double bumps, squeezing the seller for more money after the bidding stops. I could bite them if they bit me.
I also knew the major players and, back then, you could easily play the kings rule of giving a favor and taking a favor. Back in the late 90’s very few people gave a flip about the $1500 trade-in that required substantial mechanical work. So I chose my battles in the fields where I would meet the least resistance.
Those daily experiences at the auctions, and my work with all those dealers and fellow auctioneers, gave me the confidence I needed to begin buying and selling cars. But it took six long months just to buy and sell two cars. Even after the first two successes, it took several more years for me to finally invest in the fixed expense and opportunity that came with a used car dealer license.
I made money, and lost my ass. Let me expand on that for you dear reader.
I… lost… my… ass…
I also learned a lot along the way. Sometimes I would seemingly lose my ass and then, I would learn something new which gave me a slight temporary reprieve from the abyss of a devastating loss. A recall from a manufacturer. A tool that would add value to what I sold, such as Carfax or a well-designed web site, that allowed me to pay more for a quality vehicle.
Or even something less technologically advanced and more relationship driven; such as a detailer who worked with a large dealer network and offered me the same recon rates because I helped him buy a good van at the actual cost.
Every problem required an added expense, a new quest for knowledge, and an opportunity to further my career.
So what about becoming a car dealer now? Get some experience first. The cost of this business has increased dramatically since 2008 along with the sophistication and ‘noise’ of advertising cars. That Toyota and Honda I mentioned earlier? They cost more now than they did back then, and they can be financed for more money as well.
The profit of a cash deal is now usually less because you have to usually pay more at the auction. Most dealerships now have to compete against Main Street and Wall Street thanks to the rise of sub-prime lending.
The ‘tote the note’ return may pay out more, because the financing terms are longer. Yesterday’s two year is now a five year note, and you will need a lot of ‘right’ to make that work.
The right mechanics. The right detailers. The right buyer. The right advertising strategies. The right financing partners. Even with all that, you still need to buy it at the right price which means you need to be at the right auction where you will likely spend a lot of time trying to find that right car. Make sure to handicap your risks accordingly.
This business was never easy. Now, for the small businessman and novice dealer, it is far, far worse.
In the good old days of 1999 thru 2008, many car dealers were able to, “Hit em’ where they ain’t.” The Chrysler minivan that was traded in and reconditioned by a VW dealer that had no business trying to sell that type of vehicle? I could buy that for cheap. Or a Toyota dealer that tried to retail a Lincoln. You could buy those ‘right car / wrong dealer’ vehicles for even less money if you helped that seller in the past.
Other times the deal would come in the form of a repossessed inoperable vehicle that was not given the chip key needed to make it run. Or, an older used car that had an amazing dealer maintenance history that nobody knew about. Sometimes you could even find a repo that had only been on the road for a couple months and had been diligently maintained for several years until that brief period of time.
I still find these nuggets of opportunity. But where I could buy five or six of these in one large auction, now I am only getting two to three a week. If I’m lucky. Even then I sometimes get an unpleasant surprise and end up losing money.
I am reiterating this salient fact of losing money because if you try to get into the car business today without some unique skill that you can couple with that used car dealer license, you will not be buying those cars for long. The mistakes now cost far more than it did back then. Parts, labor and expertise all cost more. Even for the big guys.
As for those big guys, they usually specialized in some unique facet of the business before dedicating their full time energy to the retail car side. Mechanics, finance specialists, exporters, reconditioning experts, body men, every step to long term success came with having a true tangible advantage that made that first step an easier one.
So you still want to be a car dealer? Meh. Fine. Start small, educate yourself, and avoid the chronic diseases that come with having too much confidence. Nothing is easy in life.
If it was, we all would be doing it.
Editor’s Note: This write-up builds on a recent Yahoo! Autos article you can find here. Hope you enjoy both of them.
via The Truth About Cars
Click here to view the embedded video.
Sweet, sweet publicity. Although I am loathe to admit it, I am a sucker for a slick ad campaign. Those catchy jingles, perfectly posed photos, and quick camera cuts work their way into my psyche and demand that I throw down my hard earned cash for something I may not need, but God how I want it! Done right, an ad campaign can have a lasting effect on me – I’m not sure if Bertel is to blame, but does anyone else remember when Volkswagen used Elvis Presley’s “Devil In Disguise” to promote their GTI? I sure do- too bad I can’t find it on you tube! So let’s talk car ads – here are some of the greatest car ads of all time:
Nissan 300ZX
Click here to view the embedded video.
Nissan had a real string of clever commercials in the early 1990s. I think the company really understood that people weren’t buying some of their cars on cost or features, they were buying them because they were some of the coolest cars going. The above ads spring right from the mind of every boy who ever owned a classic GI Joe.
Isuzu Impulse
Click here to view the embedded video.
Joe Isuzu was the pitchman in one of the most popular TV commercial series of the 1980s. You may or may not know it, but not everything he says is the truth…
Dodge Shadow
Click here to view the embedded video.
Today computerized graphics and morphing from one shape into another is old hat, but way back in 1987 that technology didn’t exist. This commercial was incredible and it drew a direct line between the legendary Dodge Dart of the past and the new, modern K car based Shadow. It got my attention for sure, this commercial is the reason I got my ass down to the local Dodge dealership when I went looking for my first brand new car.
Mercury Cougar
Click here to view the embedded video.
This is one of the earliest car commercials I can remember from my childhood. Back then I was more interested in the cat than I was the car (or the woman.) I guess it’s a sign of my age that today I am more interested in the car than I am the cat (or the woman.)
Bonus: American Home Direct
This is actually a Japanese advertisement for life insurance but it is a touching story about a man, his cars and how his life’s priorities change as he moves through life. Keep your handkerchief handy for this, it’s a beautiful, touching ad featuring some cool classic Japanese cars. (Big thanks to Japanese Nostalgic Car for turning me onto this a couple of months ago.)
Click here to view the embedded video.
There you have it, food for thought. As always, your own contributions and suggestions are more than welcome. Also, if you have better internet sleuthing skils than I, feel free to find that Golf GTI Elvis ad I mentioned!
Thomas M Kreutzer currently lives in Buffalo, New York with his wife and three children but has spent most of his adult life overseas. He has lived in Japan for 9 years, Jamaica for 2 and spent almost 5 years as a US Merchant Mariner serving primarily in the Pacific. A long time auto and motorcycle enthusiast he has pursued his hobbies whenever possible. He also enjoys writing and public speaking where, according to his wife, his favorite subject is himself.
via Boing Boing
Earlier this week, I blogged Andy "Waxy" Baio's speech on fair use, called "The New Prohibition." Andy got hit with a legal threat for making a limited edition 8-bit remix of a famous photo and ended up paying $35,000 to settle the claim, even though he thought he had fair use on his side. As Andy explained, he thought that winning the court case would cost so much that it was cheaper to lose for a mere $35k.
But as Pat Aufderheide from American University's Center for Social Media writes, "Andy Baio's a brilliant geek, and an artist, but I'm afraid he's inadvertantly generating a chilling effect all his own, with fair use misinformation. Ouch! Here's why."
Andy warns ominously that “anyone can sue you for anything, always, and even without grounds.” Yup. That is true, and just as true for obscenity, libel, or treason charges, and in a million other places in life. If someone slips on the sidewalk in front of your house after a snowstorm, or chokes on an appetizer at your dinner party, or objects to your choice of lawn furniture, they can sue you. Copyright trolls like Prenda are suing people who have done nothing at all. But we somehow conduct our lives and even have dinner parties knowing this ugly reality.
He warns fellow remixers everywhere, “fair use will not save you,” and “nothing you have ever made is fair use.” Whoa. Neither of these statements is true.
Fair use is riding high in the courts. The fair uses of "Jersey Boys," who used clips from "The Ed Sullivan Show," were forcefully vindicated just a few weeks ago, and the litigious rightsholders were ordered to pay the defendants’ costs and fees. Georgia State University successfully defended a copyright lawsuit brought by greedy publishers, and got a court order for the publishers to pay over $3 million in attorneys’ fees and costs. Fair use even saved Luther Campbell, aka Luke Skywalker from 2Live Crew, when the Supreme Court held that Campbell could sample all of Roy Orbison’s “Oh, Pretty Woman” for use in a parody song.
But mostly fair use just gets used without a darn thing happening. Virtually everything you have ever made—including Andy’s own video presentation (check out the “Harlem Shake” clips!)--employs fair use. Fair use is practiced so routinely that it’s a nearly invisible part of our daily life. Every front-page newspaper article; every student paper with a footnote in it; every newscast is laced with fair use, and nobody is suing for the millions of fair uses every day of others’ copyrighted material. Fair use lawsuits in fact are extremely rare, and vanishingly rare in comparison with the ubiquitous practice of fair use. Even cease-and-desist letters are extraordinarily rare.
Pat's piece goes on to give a lot of chapter-and-verse on the ins and outs of the current fair use landscape.
Fair Use Fearmongering, from Friends? (Thanks, Pat!)
via Boing Boing
Andy Baio's "The New Prohibition" is a speech given at a Creative Mornings/Portland event, expanding on his must-read "No Copyright Intended" post, about the way that the complexity of copyright and fair use effectively criminalizes a whole generation of creators. Baio documents his own experience of being bullied into giving $35K to a photographer rather than spend a decade and hundreds of thousands of dollars proving that his limited-run, 8-bit remix of a photo was fair use, and makes some practical suggestions for what a modern fair use should look like, if it is to preserve the new, networked creativity.
The New Prohibition
via Boing Boing
Bruce Schneier's terrific Atlantic essay on the Boston Marathon bombings is a must-read. As he points out, the terrorists win only if we let this sort of thing scare us. By being empathic toward the victims and indomitable and fearless toward the criminals, we can create a climate where politicians can get away with telling us the truth -- there's no such thing as perfect security -- instead of politically expedient lies that lead to an out-of-control security state that takes away our freedoms, diverts our education, unemployment and health money to security theater, and leaves us no safer.
How well this attack succeeds depends much less on what happened in Boston than by our reactions in the coming weeks and months. Terrorism isn't primarily a crime against people or property. It's a crime against our minds, using the deaths of innocents and destruction of property as accomplices. When we react from fear, when we change our laws and policies to make our country less open, the terrorists succeed, even if their attacks fail. But when we refuse to be terrorized, when we're indomitable in the face of terror, the terrorists fail, even if their attacks succeed.
Don't glorify the terrorists and their actions by calling this part of a "war on terror." Wars involve two legitimate sides. There's only one legitimate side here; those on the other are criminals. They should be found, arrested, and punished. But we need to be vigilant not to weaken the very freedoms and liberties that make this country great, meanwhile, just because we're scared.
Empathize, but refuse to be terrorized. Instead, be indomitable -- and support leaders who are as well. That's how to defeat terrorists.
The Boston Marathon Bombing: Keep Calm and Carry On
via Boing Boing "At the close of 1998, there were 23 known weblogs on the Internet. A year later there were tens of thousands. What changed?" [Mat Honan / Wired]