Slashdot Mirror
Gracenote v. Roxio CDDB Suit Settled
An anonymous reader writes with this update: "As reported via the usual sources, Roxio announced today that the lawsuit (read all about it on slashdot) with gracenote has been settled.
To fresh up your memory: Gracenote ('cddb') sued Roxio because they switched from cddb to freedb for identification of audio CDs. Discussion on slashdot was active, especially questioning if gracenote really owned the titles. David Hyman, Gracenote CEO, added, 'We look forward to a long and mutually successful relationship between our companies through this new license for intellectual property and current and advanced music recognition services.' End of quote. Do I need say more than 'corporate lawyers'?"
What the anon user forgot to tell us was, Gracenot won. Roxio is to be made bitch.
I'll whole heartedly admit this is a troll.
Computational Madness in a round package.
'We look forward to a long and mutually successful relationship between our companies through this new license for intellectual property and current and advanced music recognition services.' End of quote.
/. style is only going to have end-of-quotes, so I'm going completely overboard using start-of-quotes too. I guess when you look at it that way, only having duplicate end-of-quotes is a 50% improvment over the alternative
Is this a new slashdot editing style we have to look forward to?
I was speaking to my friend the other day. He said start of quote "Hello" end of quote, so I said start of quote "Hello" end of quote back. He said start of quote "I just saw James, and he said start of quote "Hello" end of quote to you" end of quote
Perhaps the
God help us! (End of Comment)
Tales from behind the Lagom Curtain
"news posts" get any boringer?
.sig
anonymous coward
/. died
I was very angry with Roxio, and it reminded me of the following story.
GM Jesse twitched and farted in his sleep. Next to him lay Susie Anne Lou, the GM plant-slut and all around bar whore. She was 42. She was also awake.
"Jesse, wake up," she hissed, her voice like sandpaper from years of a 5-pack-a-day smoking habit. "Wake up you fat son of a bitch!"
Stirring and mumbling something about "polishing his knob like a good little slut," GM Jesse awoke slowly. He winced as had fallen asleep with his cheap sunglasses on again and inadvertantly shoved them into his face in a failed attempt to wipe the sleep from his eyes.
"What the fuck!?" he exclaimed as he groggily looked around. He gasped as he saw Susie Anne Lou; he had forgotten that he had "seduced" (bought her 7 beers at the bar) and fucked her earlier that night. He had been dreaming about Sarah Jessica Parker's perky Jewish tits and her shaven Jewish pussy. He had "messed her pussy up" all night long in his dream and waking up to Susie Anne Lou was in sharp contrast to his fantasy.
"You were snoring and farting. You God-damned pig, I don't expect to deal with shit-smell and grunting after I fuck," Susie Anne Lou said pointedly. "God dammit!"
Without hesitation, GM Jesse bitchslapped Susie Anne Lou. "Fuckin' cunt, God-damn bitchin' an' whinin' after I got my balls in you," he berated. "Next time you want this God-damned meat pole you're gonna get down on your knees and kiss my balls first, you fuckin' hag!"
The next morning, Susie Ann Lou, the GM plant-slut, was nowhere to be seen. Neither was GM Jesse's guitar (untouched since '78), his Journey records (last listened to yesterday), his beer (all 5 cases of it, chilled), and a stack of porno mags (Open Legs, Hustler, and Shaved).
"Fuckin' slut stole all my shit, God dammit!" GM Jesse exclaimed angrily. "Fuckin' fuck-hole walked off with all my favotire shit!"
He grabbed his jean jacket and waddled out the door. It was a warm summer morning in Kansas City and he was wearing his finest red cut-off jogging pant shorts, a stained white tshirt, and a flannel shirt overtop of that. His shoes were imitation leather with Velcro straps. GM Jesse didn't have time to fuck around with tyin' his shoes!
His belly hung out from his tshirt, and though he didn't notice, his dirty cock was hanging limply from a hole he had cut in the front of his jogging pant cut-off shorts so he woulnd't have to pull them down to piss. He'd done this while trying to piss in a beer bottle in his reclining chair late one Wednesday night. It was quite hard to piss in a beer bottle sitting down with your dick aimed down and over the top of an elastic band!
His '78 Sedan stationwagon peeled out of his driveway and down the gravelly road toward I-70 and the GM plant.
His buddies from the line were drinking in the parking lot before work, per tradition every work day, and he didn't want to be late.