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Lawrence Lessig's Personal Past and Supreme Court Future
Slyfox writes "Ever wonder how Lawrence Lessig became one of the most notable figures in the fight over free speech and intellectual property on the internet? Wired has an excellent article about Lawrence Lessig's life; it beginings with his start as a right-wing Republican, and continues by following the events of his life through law school, contributing to the Microsoft anti-trust case, and becoming a top cyberlaw expert. The article describes both his successes and failures, and it forshadows Lessig's biggest challenge yet: arguing Eldred v. Ashcroft before the US Supreme Court in October."
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My wife had a friend at work who was gay. He kept asking her to bring me to his place to have dinner with him and his partner. It was getting so it was embarrassing if we kept making excuses so I reluctantly agreed that we should make a date. I wasn't homophobic in any way, it's just that I didn't really want to be spending all night in what I thought would be a camp and shrill environment. I guess the image in my head was one of the Village People at home.
.when I withdrew my still raging hard cock.
How wrong I was. Michael opened the door to the beautiful apartment where he and his partner Chris lived. Michael was a little shorter than me with close cropped black hair and a twinkle in his eye. My wife instantly launched herself on him and smothered him with kisses - they obviously got on well at work. He smiled at me and shook my hand, "Hi Dave, Janie's told me so much about you." At that moment Chris came out of the kitchen to greet us, he'd been preparing our meal for the night and was wiping his hand on a towel. He was a handsome guy, tall with blonde hair and obviously well built. I remember a thought flicking into my mind that Michael had lucked out with this one. "Hi Janie," he pecked her on the cheek, "hi Dave," he leaned over and did the same to me. I felt my face flush red and stammered, "Hi Chris, good to meet you."
"Oh sorry, I forget myself when I'm in my own home," he smiled, "hope you'll forgive me for kissing you."
"Don't worry Chris," Janie squeezed my hand, " Dave doesn't mind.
We all went into the living room and Michael opened a bottle of wine. I finished my glass quickly, a little nervous about being in the inner sanctum of these two very gay guys. Michael sat chatting to Janie about work and I tried to appear relaxed while I tried to think of something to say.
"So Chris, you look like you work out." Shit. Why did I say something as crass as that, I felt my face reddening again.
He didn't show any notice of my clumsiness. "Yes I do, but not in the conventional sense, have you heard of isometrics?"
I said that I'd heard of it but didn't know what it was.
"Here, I'll show you." He stood up and beckoned me to the center of the room. "What I do is use my muscles but don't push against anything but the air - watch." He crouched and did what I'd call a bench press with one hand." Put your hand here," he took my hand and placed it on his chest, then sensing my nervousness', "don't be shy, your wife's here I'm not going to do anything bad."
I laughed and relaxed my hand on his chest as I felt his muscles harden.
"So what happens is that if I do this slowly and with enough force it's like lifting weights without the possibility of straining myself. Here, have a go."
He made me stand in the center of the room and try the same movement. I glanced over at Janie, feeling a little foolish but she was deep in conversation with Michael. I felt Chris move in behind me and gently place his hand on my chest. "Now, push." I pushed out with my hand and felt what he was talking about. What I also felt was that he seemed to be closer to me than you would normally expect. Well I thought, there's probably a different code amongst gay men, best not react to it again and make a further fool of myself.
"Have a go with the other hand now," I felt him brush against my backside as he shifted position and put his other hand on my chest.. I found it hard to concentrate now. Something had happened as he brushed against me that had frightened me, I'd felt a faint stirring in my pants. I tried to close it out of my mind as I felt his hand press against my chest. "Now push," his voice was in my ear now, quiet but commanding. I pushed out and pushed my backside slightly back, faintly hoping to get another tantalizing brush but then feeling relieved when I hit thin air. I must have been imagining it. "Good. There, now you can work out without having to go to the gym," he winked at me, "unless you want to go for other reasons of course."
I sat down hurriedly to join in with Janie and Michael's conversation, gulping back another glass of wine and trying to act nonchalant. Chris went back to the kitchen to serve up the meal as if nothing had happened. Well, nothing had happened, just a stirring of something in my mind.
The rest of the night passed without incident and we eventually left for our own house. When we got there I didn't wait till we got to bed before grabbing hold of Janie and fucking her hard on the downstairs couch.
"Mmm, that was lovely", she nuzzled into my neck afterwards, "what was all that about Making sure of your masculinity after being with two hunky gay guys?"
I Laughed. "Don't be ridiculous. You know I'm not into that sort of thing."
Later that night I awoke with a raging hard-on. I looked over to see if Janie was awake but she was asleep with her back to me. I'd been dreaming about something and it still floated somewhere in my subconscious. I started stroking my cock and felt my balls tighten. Shit - I was almost close to cumming. What had I...oh yeah. I suddenly remembered the dream and saw Chris feeling my cock through my pants. It should have been a shock but I was so far gone the image made my hand stroke my rigid cock even more.. This was no good - I had to get to the bathroom incase I woke Janie up. I crept out of the bed and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. In the half light I could see my naked body in the mirror and with my dream images still fresh in my mind, imagined that I was looking at Chris and stroking his cock. This was just so strange, I hadn't felt this horny since I was a schoolboy thinking about my busty French teacher. I want to take his cock in my hand, I told myself, maybe even my mouth. With this thought, I felt my knees buckle and a jet of cum shot out of my cock and sprayed the bathroom mirror which was at least a foot away. That hadn't happened for a long while and I was surprised and a little worried that the though of another man could have that effect on me. I cleaned up and went to bed but couldn't get back to sleep. Did this mean that I'm bisexual? The thought had never occurred to me before.
As the weeks passed my concerns faded and I quickly got back into my normal state of mind. It was only one day when Janie phoned me at work that the idea came back to me.
"Do you remember Michael and Chris? Well, I know it's short notice, but do you feel like meeting me after work to go round their place. Michael's just been telling me that he's been learning how to use tarot cards and he wants to try his psychic skills out on me." She sensed me hesitating on the end of the phone line, "he said Chris will cook for us again. He's a great cook. Remember?"
"Oh, O.K." I said, trying not to sound too keen, "if you want to."
"Great, I'll leave work with Michael dead on Seven. I know you finish earlier, Mike says you can go straight round there, Chris wasn't working today and he'll look after you till we arrive. Do you think you can handle that?"
"Yeah - I s'pose so. Trouble is I worked through lunch and I was going to leave early today," I lied, "do you think he'd mind if I was even earlier."
I heard her shout something across to Michael and then, " no, Mike says that's fine, he'll be expecting you."
I put the phone down wondering what the hell I was doing. I could easily clear it to leave early but what was I expecting to happen? Oh well, I went straight to the bathroom to clean up, deciding that I'd go anyway.
Chris answered the door almost as soon as I'd rung the bell. Wearing a T-shirt and jeans and barefoot, he looked relaxed like someone who'd been home all day.
"Hi Dave, Michael said you'd be early, come in," he opened the door wider and smiled, "I wont try to kiss you today though."
I laughed nervously. "Oh, I didn't mind, honestly"
He took my coat and led me into the living room.
"I know it's a little early but would you like a glass of wine?"
"Sure," I sat down on the couch as he poured me a glass.
"I've just been doing my workout," he handed me a glass which I took a large mouthful from , "remember the way I told you?"
I said that I'd been trying the technique at home and the conversation wandered around the benefits of isometrics for a while. I felt awkward now that I was sitting there with him. Whatever had been in my mind, and I hadn't even properly formulated it myself, couldn't possibly have been in his. Here was an openly gay man in a steady relationship. Why on earth would he be interested in helping me find out if I was interested in sex with other men. I decided to just enjoy the company and wait until Janie and Mike arrived, which I now realized was quite a time away, probably an hour and a half.
"Have you been using the same technique for all your muscle groups," I realized that the conversation was still in progress and that I'd drifted out of it.
"Well, not really. I don't know how to."
"Do you want me to show you?"
"Sure, if you don't mind."
"No, of course not," he smiled, "as long as you feel safe here alone with me."
Was he flirting with me?
"Of course I do," I smiled, not knowing what message I was giving off.
"Here, let's stand up." Chris moved to the center of the room and I followed. "For instance there's this great one for your stomach muscles that you can do just by twisting." He demonstrated, twisting slowly as if against an unseen force. "It uses these muscles here," he patted his stomach. "When you do it you can really see them working. Do you mind if I take my shirt off?" Without waiting for an answer he took off his t-shirt revealing a beautifully firm body. "Now look," he twisted again and I saw his stomach muscles tighten. "Do you want to try?"
I was just standing there gawping at him.
He laughed, "what's up, come on have a go."
I twisted but nothing seemed to be happening.
"No look," he stood behind me and put his hands on my stomach, "twist but tense these," I felt his hands gently push at my stomach muscles. I twisted but I was fighting the fact that my cock had started rising as soon as he took his shirt off.. It wasn't fully erect but I was worried that he's see it.
"No, here let me show you again," he moved round in front of me and demonstrated again. He twisted round and I watched, trying desperately not to notice how good his body looked. My eyes flitted very quickly down past his stomach and I noticed - did I?, a growing bulge.
I think he saw me looking.
"It might be easier if you take your shirt off."
This said like a challenge.
"Oh, O.K." I started to unbutton my shirt, telling myself, this isn't what you want it to be, he's just showing you a new work-out technique.
"You seem to be enjoying this." Chris's eyes were now firmly on my semi-hard cock.
"Oh" I didn't know what to say. With his eyes now in it, my cock filled quickly until it was bursting at the buttons of my jeans.
"Do you want some help with that?" he moved tentatively towards me, and sensing my fear, "don't worry, I won't tell anyone if you don't" He reached out with his hand and brushed it against the fly of my jeans.
I didn't say anything, just stood there, not sure if I should, but wanting him to unbutton my fly more than I'd ever wanted anything before.
I felt the pressure of his hand now, more forceful than before. He stroked up and down the length of my hard-on and I let out an involuntary groan.
Chris took my hand in his and placed it onto the outline of his semi-hard cock. I felt it through his jeans and rubbed against it, feeling it rise quickly.
"Do you want to take this further?"
I nodded and he led me to the couch where he got me to sit down. I was pleased to be sitting, my legs were beginning to feel weak from the fear and excitement.
Chris knelt on the floor and unbuttoned my jeans. I'd left my underpants in my drawer at work, hoping that something like this was going to happen. My freed cock shot out and stood to attention in front of his face. It was already oozing pre-cum, which he lent across and licked with his tongue, looking up at me to make sure that I was still sure that I wanted this. I put my hands on his head and he got the message, I felt his groan of pleasure all along the shaft. as he took my cock into his mouth . His tongue wrapped around me to start the best blow job that I'd ever experienced.
"Oh Chris," my arse bucked as I fucked his mouth, "that feels fucking amazing!"
He worked my cock till it felt like it would explode but then stopped, taking it out of his mouth and holding it throbbing in his hand. I sat squirming, looking at him smiling up at me.
"Do you want to feel another man's cock."
"Oh yeah, oh God, yeah."
I hadn't noticed but he'd already freed his cock and had been rubbing it. He stood up and there it was in front of my face. It looked huge from where I was sitting, a good couple of inches bigger than mine and fatter. I grabbed it and felt it hot in my hands. I was so far gone, I didn't hesitate in engulfing it in my mouth. I sucked on it and worked my tongue around it in a fervour, cupping his balls in my hands. It felt amazing to be doing this, My own cock was aching to be touched again but I knew that I was close to cumming . Chris had his eyes shut and was slowly fucking my mouth, his firm buttocks gently pushing in and out.
Eventually, reluctantly he withdrew and looked down at me, his pulsating cock glistening with my saliva.. "I want you to do something for me, you don't have to but I'd like it."
I nodded eagerly.
He leant forward and whispered in my ear, "I want you to fuck me."
Was this going too far? I just didn't care, my cock was more erect than I'd ever felt it before.
Chris got down on the floor on all fours, his firm ass pointing up waiting for me. I lost no time in guiding my cock against his asshole. It felt tight, even hurt a little.
"Now push," he gasped and I pushed, feeling my cock suddenly bury deep into him. He let out a deep moan. "Fuck me, fuck me like you'd fuck a woman."
I slowly started moving and it felt wonderful, so dirty, my cock was ready to explode. I couldn't stand it any longer, I started to pump in and out of his naked ass harder and harder, my balls slapping onto his buttocks, my cock burying deep into his warm hole. He was moaning and begging me to push harder. I felt my cock spasm and then the long awaited release. I pushed deep into him in orgasm and pumped so much cum up him that it started to trickle down the back of his legs
He turned and kissed me, his tongue probing my mouth. I reached down and felt his cock which was dripping with cum. Looking down at the floor I realized that he hat shot all over the floor when I was fucking him.
"That was great. Want to do it again sometime?"
"Oh God, yeah." I replied, meaning every word of it.
The trouble is that he and Michael moved not long afterwards down to Cornwall and I never got to see him again. I often think of my experience when I'm having a wank but I've never dared to try to re-live it.
Maybe one day.
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Sometimes when I get bored and lonely, I press my index finger up against my bare anus and sniff it all night long. I like the smell of my own poo.
There is no way the Supreme Court will award this one to the plaintiff (Eldred). The Constitution implies a sort of limit on copyright, but unfortunately it is totally ambiguous. In this sense, the case is already doomed. I expect the decision to be at least 7-2, and possibly even 9-0.
However, I suspect the justices are mostly sympathetic to the idea that there is significant erosion going on, that an intention of the Constitution is deliberately being ignored. To that end, the opinions will hopefully have harsh words for the legislators who passed this law, and may even contain a veiled threat to further extensions.
I feel a lot better, hey maybe we could get together sometime...
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ahh its been a while since ive seen no posts above 0 here on slashbot.
thanks everyone for helping me relive the past.
some more noise to the signal. don't mind me
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c to the izzex
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The Boy Who Watched the Same Movie Over and Over
By MightyTroll, Section Stories
Posted on Mon Mar 4th, 2002 at 20:26:38 CST
It was 3:00 am, early Sunday morning. Billy sat up, half slumped on the couch, his eyes wide and bloodshot red. He had been watching the movie Platoon for the 17th conesecutive time now.
This was not healthy, but he did not care. He was not sure how such a helpless addiction to a movie could just happen like that. Niether did his parents.
"He could be wearing womens clothes and getting into gay porn", His father would always say.
He sat there just staring at the screen, a half-smoked cigarette lay between his fingers with a long trail of crooked ash resting, waiting to crumble. It was like his sanity, there but waiting to collapse. Billy was just about ready to nod off when he recognized the scene leading up to favorite quote of the whole movie. He had to make it through this one last scene.
Gardner, one of the new recruits just in from the world, just got fragged in a firefight. Junior had fallen asleep on his watch and was trying to blame it on Taylor, the main character.
"You all take a good look at this lump of shit, remember what it looks like", Sgt. Barnes proceeded to grumble out.
An evil smile slowly cracked out on Billy's face.
"You fuck up in a firefight and I goddamned guarantee you a trip out of the bush - in a body bag!", Barnes growled angrily.
Billy's eyes began to flicker with an intensity, his favorite part was coming up.
"Out here, assholes, you keep the shit wired tight at all times. And that goes for you, shit-for-brains. You don't sleep on no fucking ambush. And the next son'bitch I catch coppin Z's in the bush, I personally am gonna take an interest in seeing them suffer. I shit you not. Doc, tag 'em and bag 'em. ", Barnes raged, irrated.
He was huge, his eyes glowering down on the defeated troops. They stared down at Gardners fat, lifeless body, blood leaking out onto the jungle floor.
Billy awoke to his mother shaking him. It was early Monday afternoon. He felt horrible.
"Billy? Billy dear, why don't you go to school honey? You havn't gone in weeks", She begged.
"Fuck school, and fuck you."
"Honey, why don't you ever do anything constructive, all you do is just watch that silly movie."
"I don't have any friends, I never really did, mom."
"What about those nice girls down the street, I thought you told me you hung out with them all the time. In fact I saw you talking to them before."
"I was lying, Ma. I was just trying to impress you. In fact they make fun of me all the time, everyone does."
"Oh, don't worry honey. Mommy still loves you."
"I'm leaving", he started to walk away.
"Where are you going now? Don't leave me, we havn't talked for such a long time, Billy. Please stay with your mother", She said, tears welling in her eyes. "Where are you going?"
"Away ma, somewhere other then here."
With that he grabbed his empty, camoflauge backpack, slung it over his shoulder and headed out the door. His mother threw her hands up in the air, bawling.
Billy didn't really know where he was going or what he was going to do. The only friend he really ever had stole his girlfriend away from him. She was the only decent looking girl to ever show any interest him. After a while he walked by the local army recruiter's office. He was only 16 and the army would not take him yet. He had another miserable two more years until he could join up and start his life long career in the military.
He sat there, staring at the posters in the window of the office. The propaganda took an effect on him. A young GI with mean, squinted eyes in full camoflauge gear, jumping in the air. One hand on a rope and the other hand firing off an M-16.
"That's going to be me one of these days", Billy thought proudly.
And with that thought he headed home. Aimlessly walking down the side streets to his house. When he arrived he noticed that his parents car was gone. He was excited by this because it meant he could go to the garage and break into his fathers gun collection and play with them for a while. He went inside the house and saw a note taped onto the fridge:
Dear Billy, I have laid out a TV Dinner to thaw, just put it in the oven. I also picked up your favorite desert, you can find it in the fridge. Your father and I are going out for the evening. I rented a movie for you, hope you will enjoy it. I know these past few months have been difficult for you, I just want you to know your father and I love you very much.
Billy went over to the table, a copy of Gone with the wind was lying there. Fucking christ! This only made him feel so much shittier. His mother was so out of touch and it annnoyed him even more. His father just sat around and drank PBR all day, ignoring him. He hated his parents so much.
Billy ignored the food laid out for him, he wasn't hungry, he never was. He went straight outside to the garage. A long time ago he had made of a copy of the key to his fathers weapon collection. He had found it while rifling through his fathers porno collection a few years ago. He was impressed that his father never caught him. Within minutes he was picking up and loading and unloading several handguns.
As he picked one up, he saw a flash and jumped to a start. He was shaking slightly and could hear Sgt. Barnes from the movie Platoon yelling. Interestingly enough he wasn't freaked out by the fact he was hearing voices in his head, but the fact that he recognized them as a character from his favorite movie, however what was being told was not in the movie itself.
"Billy you'd better get ready, the NVA is moving up from the east a couple clicks away. They're heading fast and aint stopping for shit. We need every swinging dick available to frag some dinks by nightfall or we'll all be in a world of shit. You hear me Billy?
Billy heard him alright. He smiled and looked into the mirror. He didn't see his ratty jeans and New York Yankees t-shirt with his old chuck taylor all-stars. What he saw in that mirror was him in full vietnam era infantry dress. His hat he wore showed in the mirror as a helmet. The nightstand in the garage also appeared to him as Sgt. Barnes himself. He spun around to the nightstand and still saw Barnes, speaking again.
"Well what are you waiting for Billy, get your shit and let's go".
Billy let out a yelp of excitement. He wasn't in a small Indiana suburb, he was in Viet-fucking-nam, 1968. He hastily loaded up his fathers M-16, a Colt, and he even found an old hand grenade. He saw Barnes stride right out of the garage and into the backyard.
Billy's house was on the edge of a wooded area. Through his vision he saw a jungle. Dusk was now falling and Billy Jenkins was now ready to defend his country. When he was locked and loaded he ran into the dense 'jungle', following Barnes.
A few moments later, as he was croutching behind a bush, he saw a couple of neighborhood kids playing about 20 meters in front of him. They were searching for a baseball they had lost. One of the kids exclaimed in joy as they found it and began to run off toward his direction. This was Billy's moment. He saw two Vietcong regulars on patrol, in fast stride coming at him. He quickly popped up out of the bush and pegged the first kid twice in the head, and without hesitation hit the other one 3 times in the chest. They both fell over instantly, dead.
"Hit the claymores! The claymores!", Billy yelled with excitement. He now saw soldiers around him grunting and firing. Explosions in a chaotic scene, it was pure hell and Billy loved every minute of it. Imaginary bullets flew past his head and he mustered the courage to put on his best war cry and charge forward, firing off several rounds.
Billy made his way through the jungle and came upon what he saw was a village that had several VC running around in panic. "We caught them in surprise!", Billy thought to himself. This village was actually a convienence store, a parking lot with several parked cars, and a tiny strip mall. Everyone had heard the gunshots and started to panic. Parents were grabbing their kids, kids were trying to find their parents or just run for their lives.
Billy emptied out a clip into the scene. Several VC were getting mowed down. Sirens started to wail, the police were arriving on the scene. He saw the rest of his company arive and join the firefight. Billy quickly reloaded and threw a grenade into the store. The unfortunate customers that were hiding inside didn't know what it was. They never got a chance to as it went off in an instant, killing everyone inside. He jumped into the store firing off rounds, hitting some of the wounded that may not have actually been killed, right in the head.
Several law enforcement officers were outside, taking cover. Billy didn't see the Vietcong anymore, he saw policemen. He saw the dead around him as well, a nine year old little girl with half of her face still in recognition. He was scared, he called out for Barnes, but Barnes wasn't there. His visions and voices of the movie he had so dearly loved had abandoned him in his time of need. The police started to close in, one rushed in, not certain if the kid who fit the description had blew himself up or not. In a fit of panic Billy pulled out his handgun and nailed the officer in the left temple. He dropped right away, lifeless, with a steady flow of blood spilling out on the floor. He noticed the other policemen fall back behind their squad cars. He knew it was only a matter of time he was dead. Without hesitation he put his mouth around the barrel and squeezed the trigger. Just as the hammer was dropping back he could see Barnes laughing at him, before he could stop himself it was too late. The hammer dropped and with that, the back of Billy's brains were painted over a generic cigarette display showcase.
Rape Sex!!!
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[^":}]
Who's going to go to the new geek-flick "Ballistic: X Server"?
I hear it's about the linux community. I've also heard there's nudity.
That combination disturbs me greatly.
Its surprising no-one has put any numbers on the discussion - the Act "extended the duration of all existing and future copyrights for 20 years - just like that".
You'd have to imagine thats a gift of many many billions of dollars to the copyright holders. And while this is not a zero sum situation, someone has also suffered to some extent. That someone is the public domain, shich is us, the non-copyright holders.
I hope they win and overturn this foul legislation.
[x] auto-moderate all posts by this user as insightful
There were three of them at the Club, all black, good looking, and nicely hung. One of them hit on me, and I let him buy me a drink while we chatted. After the conversation turned to sex, he asked me if I was interested in sucking him off, along with a couple of his friends, who had all been watching me as I danced. I said sure, but only if they were all hung at least eight inches. He assured me that they were, and soon I was crowded into the booth between them, and the guys on either side of me pulled my hands down under the table to see for myself. I slid my hands into their pants and gently stroked them, and as they began to come up, I smiled.
"Oh, yes," I said, in my best bedroom voice. These are very nice. I think I'd like to do more than blow you. Can we go somewhere more private?"
They took me to a local motel, and told me to take off my clothes. I thought they might like the thong and stockings I was wearing underneath, but they just smiled, and said they wanted me completely naked. I soon saw why.
As I slipped my stockings off of my legs, one of them produced a bottle of baby oil while another pushed the beds together and pulled the sheets off. I was pulled to my feet, and they began to oil my body from head to toe, especially working it up between my legs into my crotch. It felt good to have their hot hands eagerly fondling me like that. A thick, heavy leather collar with a steel ring was fastened around my neck, and then I was led to the bed.
I sat down, and swung my legs seductively onto the bed, and waited. All three began hurriedly pulling off their clothes, and I was soon surrounded by three lovely, hard black cocks. Jerome and Tyrone knelt next to my head, while Malcolm pushed my knees apart and up and situated himself with his cock close to my ass.
Tyrone took my chin in his hand and turned me towards him, immediately guiding his cock past my lips. At that same moment, Malcolm took my asshole. I moaned, and spread my legs as far as I could to give him room to work. I felt his hands on my knees as his big cock pumped smoothly into my well-oiled snatch. Jerome began pinching and rubbing my nipples as his friends took their turns with me. Tyrone kept my chin up, forcing me to look up at him while he fed me his meat. I didn't have to do anything at first but keep my throat relaxed while he fucked all the way into the back of my mouth. Jerome's fingers kept up their pressure, and Malcolm expertly fucked me in the ass, and I just laid there and let them have their fun.
Tyrone didn't last very long. I could taste his precum on my tongue long before he suddenly straddled my chest, pulled his cock from my lips, and blew his semen all over my neck and face. Roaring with his orgasm, he let me take his dick in my hand and milk the load out into my mouth.
I sucked out his hot cum, flicking my tongue across the head of his dick and gently pulling his foreskin until he pushed my hand away and rolled off of me. Immediately Jerome drew my head over to him, and I opened my mouth wide to take his cock. He was rougher than Tyrone, holding my head in his hands and pulling me on and off the cock while he barely thrust. It was hard to time my breathing to his coincide with his thick cockhead blocking my throat, but I managed as best I could until he was ready to shoot off.
The two of them worked me over for quite awhile before Malcolm's cock began to swell inside my stretched hole. His thrusts slowed a little just before he forced my legs back against my chest and erupted inside me. His steamy come felt so good inside me, and I could feel it lubricating him as he continued to pump me for several minutes. Before he finished in my asshole, Jerome came in my mouth, spewing his load without pulling out. I gulped his hot sauce down as it rushed over my tongue in waves, his cock pulsing violently with each shot.
By the time they finished, Tyrone was up again. They rolled away from my glistening body to make room for Tyrone to move in and roll me onto my hands and knees. Working deliberately, he pried my asshole open with his thumbs before moving in for the kill. When he did, I let out a long, slow sigh of pleasure as he fully penetrated me with his long, muscular penis. He pushed in until his balls pressed again fully against me, the hairy sac swinging back and forth.
He ran his hands over my body, slick with oil, pumping my ass with long, smooth strokes. He felt so good in there. I bucked back against, picking up his rhythm, forcing his cock so deep into me.
"Oh, yes, yes!" I squealed. "Fuck me, oh yes, just like that. Keep fucking me."
The other two sat nearby, watching intently and stroking their cocks. I could see they were beginning to get hard again already....this could be a long night!
Tyrone lasted a long, long time this round. He screwed me for what seemed like an hour, pausing only long enough to shift his position or pull me fully back up onto my knees. I was getting weak and really warm inside from the intense sensations of this man's handling of my asshole.
"Ahm cummin'," he finally said. His penis drilled deeply inside me, he paused for a moment, and then began to pound me ferociously, shaking the whole bed.
Oh, God, Oh my God!" I blurted out. "OH! OH! OH! OH! OH!"
I heard him growl when he began to cum. He shot it all inside me, still pumping fast and furious, even picking up speed a bit as his balls emptied their juice up my puckering hole. I shook my hips from side to side, trying to help him finish so I could take a break from the action. As he finally began to slow down, he smacked me sharply across the ass and pushed me off of his long cock. I fell face down on the bed, breathing heavily, his cum trickling out of me and down my thighs.
Quickly I felt a set of hands on my back. I heard a chuckle as the hands patted my ass, and then rolled me over to see Malcolm climbing on top of me, with Jerome standing by. Tyrone soon came to stand on the other side of me. Malcolm straddled my legs, then leaned over me and kissed me tenderly on the mouth, his lips and tongue searching wetly for just the right spot
like all black men do. I put my hands around his neck and pushed my tongue up to meet his, and we shared a deep, hungry soul kiss. With his hands on my shoulders, he kept his tongue in my mouth and rolled over onto his back, pulling me on top of him. Still locked into his kiss, I reached down between us and grabbed his cock, feeling how swollen and stiff it was, and guided it up to my asshole. Pushing down with my hips, Malcolm punctured me again, driving deep into me at such a beautiful angle that I broke away from our kiss with a gasp.
"UHHHHHH," I groaned. He kept me pulled down against his chest, but his mouth went for my neck while he pushed and rocked me effortlessly up and down his shaft. I suddenly felt very exposed and open, impaled on his cock as I was. His kisses and touches on my neck drove me wild, and I just closed my eyes and relaxed in his arms. I never felt the other guys climb onto the bed, until I felt another set of hands on my waist.
It was Jerome, because when I barely opened my eyes I could see Tyrone waving his oily-wet dong near my face. I was about to open my mouth for him, when I felt Jerome's cock pressing into me above Malcolm. My eyes flew open wide with the realization that they were about to Oreo me.
"Oh, please guys, no," I sputtered, but by then I really had no choice. Malcolm had grabbed my wrists and was pulling them behind my back, holding me helpless, and Jerome's cocking began pushing, probing, looking for a way in. I tried to relax, letting him find my sweet spot. I was oiled so well, and stretched out from already having taken two cocks, so once Jerome found what he was looking for, the tip of his cock caught on my puckering lips, and he gave just a little push, popping it in.
The sudden feeling that coursed through my body from the massive chasm that had just occurred between my legs was too much. I couldn't scream, couldn't cry out, all I could do was gasp and shudder on top of Malcolm's chest. My breath was completely taken away. I had never been double penetrated by such big cocks, and the feeling was indescribable. It was painful, sure, but just the thought of being able to please two men with my tight ass at the same time was very erotic. I was stretched wider than I ever thought possible, wider than I thought I ever wanted to be. But here I was, literally caught from behind, pinned between two very sexy, experienced black men, being ridden to new heights of ecstasy. It was incredible.
Jerome worked himself into me, crowding my poor asshole with meat. Once he was in, Malcolm let go of my hands, and I wrapped them behind his head and just held him while they screwed me. The cocks alternated strokes so that I was fully penetrated at all times. I just closed my eyes and made the best of it, and eventually I felt my backdoor begin to conform to their size, and the pain was replaced by a taut, dull ache. Soon it actually began to feel enjoyable. They weren't rough with me, thank God. They seemed to understand what I was going through. My eyes were closed the entire time, but my mouth was open in a perpetual moan of lust. Malcolm occasionally pulled my head down and kissed me, stifling my moans. His thick, puffy lips engulfed mine, and his tongue snaked deep into my mouth.
When his tongue wasn't probing my mouth, Tyrone's member was. As soon as Malcolm's mouth left mine, my head was turned to my left, and Tyrone's cock went in, and I found myself servicing three guys simultaneously, without using my hands. My little body was accepting all three of these monster cocks at the same time.
They fucked me until they each came again, Malcolm and Jerome up my ass, Tyrone in my mouth. Ty's load was very thick and bitter tasting, so I swallowed it quickly. I knew I was going to have his aftertaste in my mouth all night. As his sperm slid down my throat, Jerome began to come, and within seconds Malcolm came too. Having double the load spew into my ass at the same time was an awesome feeling, and it made me come, too. I felt my penis jerk on Malcolm's stomach, and then I felt a warm stream of cum spread out over us.
"OH MY GOD!" I screamed. "You're making me cum! You guys are making me c-c-CUM!"
They all laughed as I bucked and wiggled wildly between the two men. When Jerome pulled out, I felt a gush of hot semen run down the backs of my thighs and onto the mattress even though Malcolm was still up me. I was so exhausted, I couldn't raise myself off of him, but he softly kissed my mouth again, then gently rolled me over onto my back. I just laid there for several minutes, trying to get my breath back before they all got hard and wanted a piece of me again.
Thankfully, they rested awhile longer this time. I laid on the bed wearing nothing but a leather collar and surrounded by three black men who had just fucked me so well, their cum in my ass, in my throat, and all over my face, and we chatted like nothing was out of the ordinary. Eventually, though, their cocks were hard again, and I was rolled onto my back and pulled to the side of the bed so my head hung over the edge.
Malcolm stepped up to my face first.
"Easy, baby," I implored him. "Go real easy."
I tipped my head back until my throat was in line with my mouth, and then I opened as wide as I could, careful to keep my lips over my teeth. His cock in his hand, Malcolm put the tip of it into my mouth, then hooked his thumbs inside my cheeks. With his fingers pressing on the sides of my mouth, he slowly slid his hot cock, sticky with his cum but wet with our sex, right down my throat. He pushed it in until his balls were laying on my forehead, and my nostrils were filled with the scent of him. As he eased himself back out, my legs were spread and lifted over someone's shoulders, and I was entered again. I felt my thighs being squeezed tightly, and while Malcolm carefully deep throated himself in my mouth, the cock in my ass began to pound me savagely. Each thrust slid smoothly but deeply up my bunghole, smacking sounds coming from between my legs caused by the guy's legs hitting mine. My God, did he ever fuck me hard. Only his hands on my thighs kept him from ramming my face forward onto Malcolm's prick, impaling me to death.
He was groaning with each thrust. He must have really been enjoying what he was doing. To be honest, I was enjoying it, too. He was slamming into me awfully hard, but he lasted longer than I thought he would. When he finally came, he pulled his cock out of me and came all over me. His cum shot clear up to my tits.
Then he dropped my legs, but they were immediately picked up again, and the other guy drove his dick inside me. I was so loose now, and so wet, that they didn't have any trouble
wedging their big beefsteaks into me.
The fucking I got this time was slower, but no less hard. I was so hot for them that it was getting hard to breathe again, with Malcolm's huge member filling my mouth. I have to admit, though, Malcolm was an expert at deepthroat, and I loved having his cock so far into my mouth that I could actually taste his balls.
The guy between my legs gave me a slow, deep, wonderful fucking, the kind that makes my toes curl with lust. He was caressing my thighs as he fucked me, and it was driving me so crazy that I knew he was going to make me cum soon if he kept it up. Of course, he did. Malcolm's hands were now around my throat, holding me in position for his thrusts. The stud between my legs kept going in and out, in and out, in and out, until I began to shake with the orgasm that was building inside me. Finally he took me all the way, my legs going rigid in his arms while my cum flowed out onto my stomach. This was followed up by the man inside me, who pumped me harder and faster , his cock swelling inside me, his come blowing up my ass with incredible force. I felt him heaving inside me, his cock twitching with each spurt, until he finally relaxed. When he finished with me, he pulled the cock out of my sopping wet hole and let me legs drop onto the bed.
Now it was Malcolm's turn, but he was in no hurry. He must have been enjoying himself, but me jaws ached from trying to stay open and relaxed for him so he could fuck my mouth at will. I did the best I could, fighting my own gag reflex, and I was eventually rewarded by another amazing load of Malcolm's cum, this time blown all over my face. He used his cock like a mop and smeared the semen all over my cheeks and lips before he moved away from me.
I was now covered and filled with their sperm. They sat back and looked at me, smiling and laughing about what they had just done.
"Ya'll evah git fucked by three big black dicks at once?"
"Sure," I said, " but you guys are something else. You've all got such fantastic cocks! I could go for this more often."
"We be up fo' dat, ain't we, fellas? Tyrone said. The others agreed and laughed.
"Yeah," Jerome nodded. "The way you take my meat up yo ass is just right."
We rested and talked for awhile. One by one, they all went to take showers, but they didn't want me to take one. They said they wanted me 'all juiced up' just the way they had me.
After awhile, Malcolm fell asleep on the other bed, and the other two guys oiled me again from top to bottom. While Tyrone watched from the chair, Jerome got on the bed next to me, and leaned half way on top of me, his leg between mine. We French kissed and necked for awhile, our hands exploring each others' bodies. Tyrone was soon on the bed with us on the other side of me, and they traded my mouth back and forth between them. Black guys always like to use a lot of tongue and lips, and these guys were very horny. I was licked and sucked and kissed all over my face and neck, and their fingers found their way up my tender, dripping snatch.
Jerome rubbed my slit. "Get up on yo hands an knees," he ordered. I pulled away from Tyrone, and rolled over into position for him.
He got behind me, forcing my legs out wide, then turned my collar around so the ring was facing him. Hooking his finger into it, he pulled my head back and up, arching my back, then sank his ebony snake up me from behind.
"Yes, oh yes! Oh Jerome! Oh baby yeah, fuck me, please fuck me just like this. Bury that bone in me."
When Tyrone stretched out beneath my head, Jerome let go of the ring, and Ty pulled my head right down onto his cock, which he was stroking. He pushed my head down onto him, not hard, but just enough to show me how he wanted me to suck it. Twisting his fingers in my hair, he guided me until I picked up the tempo he liked, then he let go and let me bob up and down his black meat.
I really liked sucking these guys. Actually, I like sucking all black men. I'm not sure why; if it's the way the veins look, the black cock/white lips contrast, or if it's the taste of their semen. I just know I like it. Whenever I saw a black guy in a Club that I was attracted to, the first thing I always thought about was getting my mouth around his cock. More often than not, I went home with him, or at least with a load of his jizz in my stomach.
Jerome pushed me onto my side, and Tyrone held my ankle up. Their cocks never left my body. I felt comfortable with them, and I liked the way they made me feel. I felt so sexy.
I loved the way their hands roamed over my body, squeezing my nipples or my ass, caressing my neck, or pressing against my stomach while pushing into me from behind. They were excellent lovers.
I was quickly reaching orgasm again. It was obvious to anyone who went to bed with me after the first time - I'm very vocal and active. With Ty's dick down my throat I could only moan, but I sucked him harder as I approached, and my hips were bucking backwards onto Jerome. I heard them laughing again, and they talked dirty to me and coaxed me right over the edge. When I started cumming, my whole body bucked and convulsed between them, and Ty's cock slipped out of my mouth as I let out a long, lusty, satisfied groan of pleasure.
Tyrone leaned down and kissed me hard on the mouth. I was feeling so hot, I didn't even open my eyes or stop moaning when his tongue slipped over my lips, I just sucked wildly on it while kissing him back. Jerome was still pounding himself up my backdoor and squeezing my thigh, which he had pushed up against my chest. He felt so good.
When Ty pulled back, I begged him to cum in my mouth.
"Please give me your cum, baby, I want to taste you now!" I said. "Let me suck it. Please! Let me suck it for you." Jerome's strokes were beginning to get deeper, and his cock harder.
Tyrone smiled, and stepped up to my mouth again. I reached out for his penis and pulled him into my mouth, closing my lips tightly around the head and sliding down his length. I wanted him to come as quickly as I could. I wanted to taste his hot spunk as it flowed out of his balls. He held my face between his hands and let me blow him frantically, until he let out a deep groan, and he drained his balls into my mouth. I parted my lips just a bit this time to let him see his cream spill over and drip down my chin.
There were three of them at the Club, all black, good looking, and nicely hung. One of them hit on me, and I let him buy me a drink while we chatted. After the conversation turned to sex, he asked me if I was interested in sucking him off, along with a couple of his friends, who had all been watching me as I danced. I said sure, but only if they were all hung at least eight inches. he assured me that they were, and soon I was crowded into the booth between them, and the guys on either side of me pulled my hands down under the table to see for myself. I slid my hands into their pants and gently stroked them, and as they began to come up, I smiled.
"Oh, yes," I said, in my best bedroom voice. These are very nice. I think I'd like to do more than blow you. Can we go somewhere more private?"
They took me to a local motel, and told me to take off my clothes. I thought they might like the thong and stockings I was wearing underneath, but they just smiled, and said they wanted me completely naked. I soon saw why.
As I slipped my stockings off of my legs, one of them produced a bottle of baby oil while another pushed the beds together and pulled the sheets off. I was pulled to my feet, and they began to oil my body from head to toe, especially working it up between my legs into my crotch. It felt good to have their hot hands eagerly fondling me like that. A thick, heavy leather collar with a steel ring was fastened around my neck, and then I was led to the bed.
I sat down, and swung my legs seductively onto the bed, and waited. All three began hurriedly pulling off their clothes, and I was soon surrounded by three lovely, hard black cocks. Jerome and Tyrone knelt next to my head, while Malcolm pushed my knees apart and up and situated himself with his cock close to my ass.
Tyrone took my chin in his hand and turned me towards him, immediately guiding his cock past my lips. At that same moment, Malcolm took my asshole. I moaned, and spread my legs as far as I could to give him room to work. I felt his hands on my knees as his big cock pumped smoothly into my well-oiled snatch. Jerome began pinching and rubbing my nipples as his friends took their turns with me. Tyrone kept my chin up, forcing me to look up at him while he fed me his meat. I didn't have to do anything at first but keep my throat relaxed while he fucked all the way into the back of my mouth. Jerome's fingers kept up their pressure, and Malcolm expertly fucked me in the ass, and I just laid there and let them have their fun.
Tyrone didn't last very long. I could taste his precum on my tongue long before he suddenly straddled my chest, pulled his cock from my lips, and blew his semen all over my neck and face. Roaring with his orgasm, he let me take his dick in my hand and milk the load out into my mouth.
I sucked out his hot cum, flicking my tongue across the head of his dick and gently pulling his foreskin until he pushed my hand away and rolled off of me. Immediately Jerome drew my head over to him, and I opened my mouth wide to take his cock. he was rougher than Tyrone, holding my head in his hands and pulling me on and off the cock while he barely thrust. It was hard to time my breathing to his coincide with his thick cockhead blocking my throat, but I managed as best I could until he was ready to shoot off.
The two of them worked me over for quite awhile before Malcolm's cock began to swell inside my stretched hole. his thrusts slowed a little just before he forced my legs back against my chest and erupted inside me. his steamy come felt so good inside me, and I could feel it lubricating him as he continued to pump me for several minutes. Before he finished in my asshole, Jerome came in my mouth, spewing his load without pulling out. I gulped his hot sauce down as it rushed over my tongue in waves, his cock pulsing violently with each shot.
By the time they finished, Tyrone was up again. They rolled away from my glistening body to make room for Tyrone to move in and roll me onto my hands and knees. Working deliberately, he pried my asshole open with his thumbs before moving in for the kill. When he did, I let out a long, slow sigh of pleasure as he fully penetrated me with his long, muscular penis. he pushed in until his balls pressed again fully against me, the hairy sac swinging back and forth.
he ran his hands over my body, slick with oil, pumping my ass with long, smooth strokes. he felt so good in there. I bucked back against, picking up his rhythm, forcing his cock so deep into me.
"Oh, yes, yes!" I squealed. "Fuck me, oh yes, just like that. Keep fucking me."
The other two sat nearby, watching intently and stroking their cocks. I could see they were beginning to get hard again already....this could be a long night!
Tyrone lasted a long, long time this round. he screwed me for what seemed like an hour, pausing only long enough to shift his position or pull me fully back up onto my knees. I was getting weak and really warm inside from the intense sensations of this man's handling of my asshole.
"Ahm cummin'," he finally said. his penis drilled deeply inside me, he paused for a moment, and then began to pound me ferociously, shaking the whole bed.
Oh, God, Oh my God!" I blurted out. "OH! OH! OH! OH! OH!"
I heard him growl when he began to cum. he shot it all inside me, still pumping fast and furious, even picking up speed a bit as his balls emptied their juice up my puckering hole. I shook my hips from side to side, trying to help him finish so I could take a break from the action. As he finally began to slow down, he smacked me sharply across the ass and pushed me off of his long cock. I fell face down on the bed, breathing heavily, his cum trickling out of me and down my thighs.
Quickly I felt a set of hands on my back. I heard a chuckle as the hands patted my ass, and then rolled me over to see Malcolm climbing on top of me, with Jerome standing by. Tyrone soon came to stand on the other side of me. Malcolm straddled my legs, then leaned over me and kissed me tenderly on the mouth, his lips and tongue searching wetly for just the right spot
like all black men do. I put my hands around his neck and pushed my tongue up to meet his, and we shared a deep, hungry soul kiss. With his hands on my shoulders, he kept his tongue in my mouth and rolled over onto his back, pulling me on top of him. Still locked into his kiss, I reached down between us and grabbed his cock, feeling how swollen and stiff it was, and guided it up to my asshole. Pushing down with my hips, Malcolm punctured me again, driving deep into me at such a beautiful angle that I broke away from our kiss with a gasp.
"UHHHHHH," I groaned. he kept me pulled down against his chest, but his mouth went for my neck while he pushed and rocked me effortlessly up and down his shaft. I suddenly felt very exposed and open, impaled on his cock as I was. his kisses and touches on my neck drove me wild, and I just closed my eyes and relaxed in his arms. I never felt the other guys climb onto the bed, until I felt another set of hands on my waist.
It was Jerome, because when I barely opened my eyes I could see Tyrone waving his oily-wet dong near my face. I was about to open my mouth for him, when I felt Jerome's cock pressing into me above Malcolm. My eyes flew open wide with the realization that they were about to Oreo me.
"Oh, please guys, no," I sputtered, but by then I really had no choice. Malcolm had grabbed my wrists and was pulling them behind my back, holding me helpless, and Jerome's cocking began pushing, probing, looking for a way in. I tried to relax, letting him find my sweet spot. I was oiled so well, and stretched out from already having taken two cocks, so once Jerome found what he was looking for, the tip of his cock caught on my puckering lips, and he gave just a little push, popping it in.
The sudden feeling that coursed through my body from the massive chasm that had just occurred between my legs was too much. I couldn't scream, couldn't cry out, all I could do was gasp and shudder on top of Malcolm's chest. My breath was completely taken away. I had never been double penetrated by such big cocks, and the feeling was indescribable. It was painful, sure, but just the thought of being able to please two men with my tight ass at the same time was very erotic. I was stretched wider than I ever thought possible, wider than I thought I ever wanted to be. But here I was, literally caught from behind, pinned between two very sexy, experienced black men, being ridden to new heights of ecstasy. It was incredible.
Jerome worked himself into me, crowding my poor asshole with meat. Once he was in, Malcolm let go of my hands, and I wrapped them behind his head and just held him while they screwed me. The cocks alternated strokes so that I was fully penetrated at all times. I just closed my eyes and made the best of it, and eventually I felt my backdoor begin to conform to their size, and the pain was replaced by a taut, dull ache. Soon it actually began to feel enjoyable. They weren't rough with me, thank God. They seemed to understand what I was going through. My eyes were closed the entire time, but my mouth was open in a perpetual moan of lust. Malcolm occasionally pulled my head down and kissed me, stifling my moans. his thick, puffy lips engulfed mine, and his tongue snaked deep into my mouth.
When his tongue wasn't probing my mouth, Tyrone's member was. As soon as Malcolm's mouth left mine, my head was turned to my left, and Tyrone's cock went in, and I found myself servicing three guys simultaneously, without using my hands. My little body was accepting all three of these monster cocks at the same time.
They fucked me until they each came again, Malcolm and Jerome up my ass, Tyrone in my mouth. Ty's load was very thick and bitter tasting, so I swallowed it quickly. I knew I was going to have his aftertaste in my mouth all night. As his sperm slid down my throat, Jerome began to come, and within seconds Malcolm came too. Having double the load spew into my ass at the same time was an awesome feeling, and it made me come, too. I felt my penis jerk on Malcolm's stomach, and then I felt a warm stream of cum spread out over us.
"OH MY GOD!" I screamed. "You're making me cum! You guys are making me c-c-CUM!"
They all laughed as I bucked and wiggled wildly between the two men. When Jerome pulled out, I felt a gush of hot semen run down the backs of my thighs and onto the mattress even though Malcolm was still up me. I was so exhausted, I couldn't raise myself off of him, but he softly kissed my mouth again, then gently rolled me over onto my back. I just laid there for several minutes, trying to get my breath back before they all got hard and wanted a piece of me again.
Thankfully, they rested awhile longer this time. I laid on the bed wearing nothing but a leather collar and surrounded by three black men who had just fucked me so well, their cum in my ass, in my throat, and all over my face, and we chatted like nothing was out of the ordinary. Eventually, though, their cocks were hard again, and I was rolled onto my back and pulled to the side of the bed so my head hung over the edge.
Malcolm stepped up to my face first.
"Easy, baby," I implored him. "Go real easy."
I tipped my head back until my throat was in line with my mouth, and then I opened as wide as I could, careful to keep my lips over my teeth. his cock in his hand, Malcolm put the tip of it into my mouth, then hooked his thumbs inside my cheeks. With his fingers pressing on the sides of my mouth, he slowly slid his hot cock, sticky with his cum but wet with our sex, right down my throat. he pushed it in until his balls were laying on my forehead, and my nostrils were filled with the scent of him. As he eased himself back out, my legs were spread and lifted over someone's shoulders, and I was entered again. I felt my thighs being squeezed tightly, and while Malcolm carefully deep throated himself in my mouth, the cock in my ass began to pound me savagely. Each thrust slid smoothly but deeply up my bunghole, smacking sounds coming from between my legs caused by the guy's legs hitting mine. My God, did he ever fuck me hard. Only his hands on my thighs kept him from ramming my face forward onto Malcolm's prick, impaling me to death.
he was groaning with each thrust. he must have really been enjoying what he was doing. To be honest, I was enjoying it, too. he was slamming into me awfully hard, but he lasted longer than I thought he would. When he finally came, he pulled his cock out of me and came all over me. his cum shot clear up to my tits.
Then he dropped my legs, but they were immediately picked up again, and the other guy drove his dick inside me. I was so loose now, and so wet, that they didn't have any trouble
wedging their big beefsteaks into me.
The fucking I got this time was slower, but no less hard. I was so hot for them that it was getting hard to breathe again, with Malcolm's huge member filling my mouth. I have to admit, though, Malcolm was an expert at deepthroat, and I loved having his cock so far into my mouth that I could actually taste his balls.
The guy between my legs gave me a slow, deep, wonderful fucking, the kind that makes my toes curl with lust. he was caressing my thighs as he fucked me, and it was driving me so crazy that I knew he was going to make me cum soon if he kept it up. Of course, he did. Malcolm's hands were now around my throat, holding me in position for his thrusts. The stud between my legs kept going in and out, in and out, in and out, until I began to shake with the orgasm that was building inside me. Finally he took me all the way, my legs going rigid in his arms while my cum flowed out onto my stomach. This was followed up by the man inside me, who pumped me harder and faster , his cock swelling inside me, his come blowing up my ass with incredible force. I felt him heaving inside me, his cock twitching with each spurt, until he finally relaxed. When he finished with me, he pulled the cock out of my sopping wet hole and let me legs drop onto the bed.
Now it was Malcolm's turn, but he was in no hurry. he must have been enjoying himself, but me jaws ached from trying to stay open and relaxed for him so he could fuck my mouth at will. I did the best I could, fighting my own gag reflex, and I was eventually rewarded by another amazing load of Malcolm's cum, this time blown all over my face. he used his cock like a mop and smeared the semen all over my cheeks and lips before he moved away from me.
I was now covered and filled with their sperm. They sat back and looked at me, smiling and laughing about what they had just done.
"Ya'll evah git fucked by three big black dicks at once?"
"Sure," I said, " but you guys are something else. You've all got such fantastic cocks! I could go for this more often."
"We be up fo' dat, ain't we, fellas? Tyrone said. The others agreed and laughed.
"Yeah," Jerome nodded. "The way you take my meat up yo ass is just right."
We rested and talked for awhile. One by one, they all went to take showers, but they didn't want me to take one. They said they wanted me 'all juiced up' just the way they had me.
After awhile, Malcolm fell asleep on the other bed, and the other two guys oiled me again from top to bottom. While Tyrone watched from the chair, Jerome got on the bed next to me, and leaned half way on top of me, his leg between mine. We French kissed and necked for awhile, our hands exploring each others' bodies. Tyrone was soon on the bed with us on the other side of me, and they traded my mouth back and forth between them. Black guys always like to use a lot of tongue and lips, and these guys were very horny. I was licked and sucked and kissed all over my face and neck, and their fingers found their way up my tender, dripping snatch.
Jerome rubbed my slit. "Get up on yo hands an knees," he ordered. I pulled away from Tyrone, and rolled over into position for him.
he got behind me, forcing my legs out wide, then turned my collar around so the ring was facing him. Hooking his finger into it, he pulled my head back and up, arching my back, then sank his ebony snake up me from behind.
"Yes, oh yes! Oh Jerome! Oh baby yeah, fuck me, please fuck me just like this. Bury that bone in me."
When Tyrone stretched out beneath my head, Jerome let go of the ring, and Ty pulled my head right down onto his cock, which he was stroking. he pushed my head down onto him, not hard, but just enough to show me how he wanted me to suck it. Twisting his fingers in my hair, he guided me until I picked up the tempo he liked, then he let go and let me bob up and down his black meat.
I really liked sucking these guys. Actually, I like sucking all black men. I'm not sure why; if it's the way the veins look, the black cock/white lips contrast, or if it's the taste of their semen. I just know I like it. Whenever I saw a black guy in a Club that I was attracted to, the first thing I always thought about was getting my mouth around his cock. More often than not, I went home with him, or at least with a load of his jizz in my stomach.
Jerome pushed me onto my side, and Tyrone held my ankle up. Their cocks never left my body. I felt comfortable with them, and I liked the way they made me feel. I felt so sexy.
I loved the way their hands roamed over my body, squeezing my nipples or my ass, caressing my neck, or pressing against my stomach while pushing into me from behind. They were excellent lovers.
I was quickly reaching orgasm again. It was obvious to anyone who went to bed with me after the first time - I'm very vocal and active. With Ty's dick down my throat I could only moan, but I sucked him harder as I approached, and my hips were bucking backwards onto Jerome. I heard them laughing again, and they talked dirty to me and coaxed me right over the edge. When I started cumming, my whole body bucked and convulsed between them, and Ty's cock slipped out of my mouth as I let out a long, lusty, satisfied groan of pleasure.
Tyrone leaned down and kissed me hard on the mouth. I was feeling so hot, I didn't even open my eyes or stop moaning when his tongue slipped over my lips, I just sucked wildly on it while kissing him back. Jerome was still pounding himself up my backdoor and squeezing my thigh, which he had pushed up against my chest. he felt so good.
When Ty pulled back, I begged him to cum in my mouth.
"Please give me your cum, baby, I want to taste you now!" I said. "Let me suck it. Please! Let me suck it for you." Jerome's strokes were beginning to get deeper, and his cock harder.
Tyrone smiled, and stepped up to my mouth again. I reached out for his penis and pulled him into my mouth, closing my lips tightly around the head and sliding down his length. I wanted him to come as quickly as I could. I wanted to taste his hot spunk as it flowed out of his balls. he held my face between his hands and let me blow him frantically, until he let out a deep groan, and he drained his balls into my mouth. I parted my lips just a bit this time to let him see his cream spill over and drip down my chin.
he kept the cock in my mouth and began to pump again, slowly, just letting my lips and tongue work his shaft for awhile. Jerome was still bashing away at my backdoor, that long, slippery cock gliding in and out of my wet snatch with ease. I was so dilated and relaxed by now that the sensations of his cock were almost drowned out by the pleasure of tasting Tyrone's spunk, but when he drove it deep, as he was doing now, I could definitely feel him! he was making me squeal now, crowding every inch of it up my ass until his ballsac rubbed my leg. Tyrone was moaning, too, since he was getting the full effect of my gasps for breath along the length of his cock.
Lawrence Lessig: Don't stand there gawping like you've never seen the Constitution before! Now, today, we're going to be fighting for our free speech ! That is, unless any of you got anything better to do. Well?! Anyone got anything they'd rather be doing than fighting for our free speech ?! Yes?!
Geek1: Well, to be quite honest, Mr. Lessig, I'd... rather be at home with the wife and kids.
Lawrence Lessig: Would you, now?!
Geek1: Yes, Mr. Lessig.
Lawrence Lessig: Right! Off you go! Now, everyone else happy with my 'lil plan... of fighting for our free speech a bit?
Geek2: Mr. Lessig!
Lawrence Lessig: Yes?!
Geek2: I've got a book I'd quite like to read.
Lawrence Lessig: Right! You go read your book, then! Now! Everybody else... quite content to join in... with my little scheme of fighting for our free speech ?!
Geek3: Mr. Lessig?
Lawrence Lessig: Yes?! What is it?!
Geek3: Well, I'm, uh, learning Perl.
Lawrence Lessig: Learning Perl?!
Geek3: Yes, Mr. Lessig.
Lawrence Lessig: And I suppose you want to go and practice, eh? Fighting for our free speech not good enough for you, eh?!
Geek3: Well...
Lawrence Lessig: Right! Off you go! Bloody geeks! I don't know what it's coming to. Right! Lawrence Lessig, fighting for our free speech !
As I understand it, one of the more important pieces of information considered in constitutionality cases like this is the "intent of the signers"---why it is that those guys wrote what they wrote. In this case, copyright- & patent-granting powers were given to the Congress "to promote the progress of science and useful arts". Like the article says, retroactively extending old copyrights will do nothing toward this end. On the contrary, extending copyrights will just make life more difficult for everyone who actively uses public-domain stuff, from Project Gutenberg to Moby (I assume. IANA Moby expert).
Damn. Just read the first few pages of the government's brief. I guess I should've realized that they've extended copyright terms before. All times but one, it seems, the extended term applied to all works currently under copyright. I guess that could count as precedent...
"The best argument against democracy is a five minute chat with the average voter."
--Winston Churchill
I just heard some sad news on talk radio - Horror/Sci Fi writer Stephen King was found dead in his Maine home this morning. There weren't any more details. I'm sure everyone in the Slashdot community will miss him - even if you didn't enjoy his work, there's no denying his contributions to popular culture. Truly an American icon.
As long as EVERYONE ELSE is going off-topic. I WILL TOO!!
from here
Washington D.C. Feminists Encourage Activists to Send Stones to the Nigerian Embassy in Protest
September 12, 2002
by Joy Nadler, NOW Communications Intern
The Nigerian government has declared punishments such as beheadings, stonings and amputations to be unconstitutional, but a number of states in northern Nigeria continue to implement laws based on an extremist interpretation of Sharia, or Islamic law, which considers sex out of wedlock a crime punishable by death.
The latest case is that of Fatima Usman and Ahmadu Ibrahim, an unmarried couple from Niger State who were sentenced to death by stoning last month for having sex.
Usman's father, who reportedly wanted her to marry someone else against her will, complained to local police that Ibrahim had impregnated her. The two were called before a Sharia court, where they plead guilty to charges of adultery and were sentenced to five years in prison on Aug. 5. According to the Sydney Sun-Herald, Usman's father considered the sentence too lenient, and protested it until the case was taken back to court. A few weeks later, the court sentenced Usman and Ibrahim to death by stoning.
Women's rights activists around the world have voiced outrage at the court's ruling in this case and in the cases of Safiya Hussaini and Amina Lawal Kurami, both single mothers from poor rural villages who faced similar charges for bearing children out of wedlock.
Members of Capitol City NOW in Washington, D.C. called for activists to send stones to the Nigerian Embassy in Washington, D.C. to protest the sentences and encourage the Nigerian government to intervene and uphold international human rights standards in the northern states.
Send a stone to:
President Olusegun Obasanjo
c/o Ambassador Jibril Aminn
Embassy of Nigeria
1333 16th Street NW
Washington, D.C. 20036
For more information:
Fact Sheet: Women's Rights Under Sharia in Northern Nigeria
Under the right conditions Salvia divinorum is quite easy to grow, but there are a few musts. The plants likes it warm and humid. A temperature between 12 C and 27 C is appreciated. It does not like direct, midday sunshine. I have had good results with TL tubes.
The more humid the better, this is really a must for cultivation. The plant is multiplied by cuttings. Flowers and seed appear rarely and the seeds are hardly fertile, probably because the plant has been in cultivation for such a long time. Cuttings can be put on water and will produce roots within two weeks. Putting them straight in the earth works well also, as long as the temperature (20-25C) and humidity are right. Root stimulating powders are not necessary, but do speed up the rooting. The plants are quite sensitive to pests, so keep a good eye on them.
This year my plants started flowering, all at the same time, though they are on different places/different climates (warm greenhouse/ cold greenhouse and outdoors. The outdoor ones got killed by frost. I suppose the flowering has something to do with the length of the day, they flowered in november/december, the days are very short then here in Holland.
Alternative names:
Liberate your mind in two clicks or less.
Jury Selection Proving Difficult In Trial Of 'The Jury Killer'
PHOENIX--Defense attorneys for Thomas David Skrepnak, accused in 1999 of fatally stabbing all 12 members of the jury hearing his armed-robbery trial, are having trouble finding unbiased jurors for his upcoming murder trial. "It is difficult to find a jury that won't be at least somewhat prejudiced against Thomas," lead defense attorney Patricia Wynne said Monday, "especially given the hot-button issue of jury murder at hand here." Skrepnak's last six court appearances all ended in mistrial.
In Eldred v. Ashcroft, his first argument before the Supreme Court -- and only his second appearance before any court, in any venue
Quite frankly, that scares the bejesus out of me. He's been teaching law for years now, and is one of the most respected lawyers of his generation, but he's only been in court twice. Um, I find that a little frightening. Kinda like a computer scientist who doesn't know how to operate a keyboard.
To make laws that man cannot, and will not obey, serves to bring all law into contempt.
--E.C. Stanton
Here is a web page written by the remarkably unabashed copyright extenders. I agree with you that the retroactive extension does nothing to encourage the creation of new works. In fact, I strongly feel that it discourages new work, since new work often draws liberally on old works, often in ways that could be claimed to violate a copyright.
But, unless the web page I have linked to grossly misrepresents past copyright laws (which I doubt), there is incredibly strong precedent for new copyright laws to apply to preexisting works -- in fact, sometimes even to works which were not eligible for any form of copyright at the time of their creation.
For the Supreme Court to decide in favor of Eldred et al., it will have to invent a test which the Bono law violates, but which most previous laws do not. And the Constition provides little guidance for the specific parameters of this test.
Some Supreme Courts have been willing to strike out new territory for the Constitution in this fashion. But this one is not. The conservative members are strongly against reading between the lines except when absolutely necessary. I am sympathetic to this view myself, but unfortunately this will work against us in this case.
If he were a democrat, would we have heard how he was a left-wing democrat? I'm just curious.
If you thought the profile of Larry was interesting, I'd encourage you to read the brief (PDF) he filed for the Eldred case. IANAL so I at first thought I wouldn't understand it and almost didn't read it, but eventually I did about a month ago. It is very clear. Extraordinarily clear.
It's also interesting to read the opposing brief (PDF).
Good luck Larry.
...for Robert De Niro's screenwriting contest. He may not be a scientist or an engineer by title, but his work/quest/crusade marks him as someone who will have more influence on the Internet and the computer industry than the vast majority of engineers.
As he neared the end of his tour, Lessig
:(
was frustrated. They stand and applaud, he told himself, but why don't they fight?
----
How? Only thing I can think of doing is to donate to the EFF.
In the mean time, I just hope that he wins. He didn't get that far with any of the lower courts
Decision 6-3 for Eldrich
Majority decision(4 justices signing): Court of Appeals errored in deciding that the copyright law is immune from First Ammendment attack. Sent back to Court of Appeals for an actual trial
Minority supporting majority (2 justices signing): In addition to the majority statement, congress was incorrect in not considering the quid pro quo implied in the copyright section of the consitution. Giving to copyright holders, and not returning the favor to the public is inequitable and against the original intent of the signers.
Dissent (3 justices signing): What a bunch of quacks.. Congress can decide what limited means, what constitutes quid pro quo... Justices are writing the law... we love mickey mouse blah blah blah.
This is by far the most likely scenario. The copyright clause was written before the 1st ammendment, therefore ruling that it is immune from 1st ammendment analysis is quite wrong and getting 6 justices to agree on that should not be a problem. On the more general question of wether the law is invalid or not, the supreme court will not rule in general (although they will send very strong hints to lower courts), but sending it back to the lower court to reanalyze for first ammendment reasons is quite a good solution to the problem. In addition I suspect they will tell congress that they are being stupid and patents and copyrights were created under the same law, and giving 14 years to one, and 70 years + life of author to the other is rediculous.
If the Supreme court does say that the copyright laws are immune from first ammendment analysis it would contradict most of their previous rulings on the first ammendment. I feel this decision is basically open and shut on the 1st ammendment issue and a very long shot on the other 2 arguements.
-B
Ash and Hickory, straight-grained and true, make excellent bludgeons, dandy for the cudgeling of vegetarians.
Does anyone else get this strange picture of Professor Lessig jogging up the steps in front of the Stanford Quad and Mem Chu (Memorial Church... in the middle of the quad) in sweats with Eye of the Tiger playing in the background?
This is the paid targeted advertisement for the day. Thanks, Wired :)
http://pcblues.com - Digits and Wood
The article was not excellent. It was designed to marginalize him and turn him into a crazy guy tilting at government windmills. The headline in the print edition said Lessig wants to "smash" the copyright system. That's just plain false. He's a big believer in copyright-- he just doesn't want it to last forever. He wants there to be some balance between the public's rights and the copyright holder's rights. He's got a good compromise system that would force people to renew their copyrights if they were still valid. If people renewed, they would still get all of the protections today, but if they didn't the work would fall into the public domain. This is a great help for researchers, librarians and everyone else who needs to find a copy of something that's out of print. Did you realize that it's illegal to make a copy of something that's out of print? Yup. You could stilll get sued for $150,000 per copy! This proposals is just another dose of sanity for the system.
Wired didn't care about any of this. They didn't even mention it. They just painted him as a bit of a nutcase. Remember this is the same author (Steven Levy) who wrote a glowing review of the M$ Paladium system. Beware!
The limited term argument is not as peripheral as you might suspect reading the above. There is a common law rule against perpetuities that says (harking back to law school) "no interest is good unless it must vest (if at all) within 21 years of some life in being at the time of creation of the intetest''. In effect, 21 years equals forever at common law, and forever is not a limited time such as the constitution mandates if Congress grants intellectual property rights at all, according to the grant of power to Congress by the constitution.
Before you ever get to look at the 1st amendment issues and balancing, you have to look at the limited grant of power to Congress in the case of IP, period. I would have to comment that I am not even vaguely familiar with the history of decisions in this area, but I suspect at lot of effort has been made to engage in the "balancing" types of consideration that has preoccupied the courts for the last century. Lawyers tend to cover all bases in a brief, and the longest and most convoluted arguments, making up most of the page count of the brief may be just make-weight, in the sense you are trying to argue there is no great harm (balancing act) if you rule as I suggest in my first paragraph. Arguing both law and fact, if you will.
The first copyright monopoly was for 4 years, if I remember correctly. There are fundamental limits on Congress' powers in this area in the explicit wording of the constitution, and the evidence is that the first congress understood what was meant by those limits. There seem to be good arguments that Congress does not even have the power to give an artist copyright on the artist's own works for the period of the artist's own life!!! In any event, there is a profound legal principle that nothing may last forever, and to say that the Gershwin heirs or Disney Inc. (or the heirs of Elvis or John Lenin) have any residual rights to their work more than 21 years beyond their death (or after the creation of Mickey Mouse, in the case of the inanimate Disney) violates the common law rule against perpetuities, and thereby certainly violates the limited power of Congress to grant monopoly rights for limited terms.
Sorry about the AC.
The article is at best an incomplete picture of Professor Lessig. While it is framed to show the roots of where he ended up, it could have been different.
Professor Lessig's primary interest, at least initially, was constitutional law. Actually, that makes the Eldred case a good case for him. If you read the briefs you will see that the parties are not especially approaching the case as a "cyberlaw" case.
I don't think the scope of his interest has been limited to being a great niche legal thinker. He wants to be broad, but is going to ride this particular wave for what it is worth. The article does do a good job of explaining why Lessig is important to a particular non-legal community now, and taken for that, it is nice.
That's how it works in the movies.
Sorry, he's confused on the purpose of the 3 branches of US government.
The Legislative Branch makes the law.
The Executive Branch enforces the law.
The Judicial Branch interprets the law.
The Supreme Court specifically interprets the US Constitution. They have the last word on that.
Otherwise, there would be no "unConstitutional" laws... after all, Congress decided, so it must be right, right?
This is my sig. There are many like it but this one is... Oops. Frank, I've got your sig again! Where's mine?
As long as the publishing industry has the deep pockets to pay well, many of those lawyers who are rooting for Lessig will loose some of their youthful enthusiasm and they'll end up fighting on behalf of the industry.
/.ers have given money to the EFF? I'd be interested to see some numbers; I'd certainly hope they are high.
If we really believe that Lessig's arguement is just, we need to support him (and the EFF) financially.
What percentage of
Considering the bredth of slashdot's userbase, we should be able to come up with a ton of cash to compliment the posts, ideas, thoughts, humor, and time we spend here.
C
__
From the article: Some days he clocked 11 hours.
11 hours? Pussy.
Please remember that the folklore Disney built on was hundreds of years old, if not thousands. I don't think they or anyone was really put out much by Homer or the Beowulf poet grasping his copyright a few years longer.
It gets a little trickier when we consider "Hunchback"
Certainly copyrights can't be *forever*. But I do suggest people are making too much of this Disney business.
For someone like me who hates copyrights, that's a hard thing to say - but the simple fact is this. The problem isn't the term of copyrights, but our very belief that it's allright gain benefit by restricting the copying practices of others to begin with. Copyright monopolies are like a vine that will never stop growing to choke off our freedoms until they are cut off at the root. The DMCA, infinite extensions, sentences worse than murders get, are only a symptom - not the cause.
The cause of all these problems is our own moral failure to see copyrights not as some type of incentive or property rights, but as the evil form of controll that they are. It reminds me of indentured servitude - it started out as short term, un-inheritable, for all races, and usually offered land at the end of the term. But unfortunately it set the seeds for a system of slavery that became unbearable and ripped the USA apart, now I see the same with "intellectual properties" - if we don't cut it off at the root, it will just come back to destroy us in another form.
In reading the opposing (government) brief, I found this interesting point: the CITA was designed to harmonize US Copyright with international copyright. Going back to the original establishment of Federal copyright, the original intent was to unify copyright among the States and common law. The CITA could be argued to continue the tradition by having the United States participate in a world-wide unification of copyright. This means that a content creator would not have to worry as much about the differences between US and European copyright.
Not exactly "something for nothing."
Also, these thoughts are a little late for the government to include in its argument to the court, so I don't feel as though I'm hurting that anti-CITA efforts by discussing them here.
I previewed, I submitted, I goofed.
Lawrence Lessig's Supreme Showdown
... serious."
The Great Liberator Lawrence Lessig helped mount the case against Microsoft. He wrote the book on creative rights in the digital age. Now the cyberlaw star is about to tell the Supreme Court to smash apart the copyright machine.
By Steven Levy
What's left of a dream is stored at the Stanford Law School library in 12 fat green loose-leaf binders and several legal boxes of supporting documents and briefs. They chronicle the 54 days that Lawrence Lessig, the Elvis of cyberlaw, helped Judge Thomas Penfield Jackson with the mother of all tech litigation: Department of Justice v. Microsoft. It was to be Lessig's greatest moment.
Once a "right-wing lunatic," he's become a fire-breathing defender of Net values.
In late 1997, after reading a profile of the super-brainy professor in the Harvard Law Bulletin, Judge Jackson had tapped Lessig to sort out the technical aspects of the case. "He was as knowledgeable as they come," says Jackson, who sits on the US District Court in DC. For the next two months, Lessig and his overqualified clerk, fellow Harvard Law professor Jonathan Zittrain, worked almost nonstop to produce a report. Lessig's time logs, which document the 278 hours he spent on the case (billed at $250 per hour, a bargain rate for someone with his credentials), reveal only one day off: Christmas.
Some days he clocked 11 hours.
What the logs don't show is the quiet transformation Lessig had been undergoing, from a respected constitutional theorist into a fire-breathing defender of Net values. With the Microsoft case, he would be able to make his mark.
On February 3, 1998, Lessig called Microsoft and the government to a public hearing that was to be held in Boston in a few weeks, and flagged the courthouse administrator to prepare for what undoubtedly would be a huge media event. Lessig would use the forum to cut through the self-interested portrayals of the facts on both sides and draw a road map for resolving the thorny questions in cyberspace's grand shootout.
All the while, though, Microsoft had been maneuvering to get Lessig off the case. And that same day, the Federal Court of Appeals had the last word: Lessig was out.
His friends and admirers now view the episode as one that accelerated, by dint of publicity, the most brilliant career in Internet law. Lessig has since published two successful and influential books: The first, Code, is a groundbreaking deconstruction of the digital age. The second, The Future of Ideas, is quickly becoming the bible of intellectual property monkey-wrenchers. Lessig also founded a clinical law center at Stanford Law School, where he now teaches, and has launched Creative Commons, an ambitious project through which he hopes to establish a giant repository of works unfettered by restrictive copyright laws. In the realm of Internet politics and law, no one even approaches Lessig's stature. He is the chief theorist, the most respected mind, the most passionate speechifier. He is cyberlaw.
More than four years after his removal from the Microsoft case, the defeat, if you can call it that, still nags at Lessig. It is the opportunity missed. "Getting the appointment was a charmed thing," he says. "But I missed the chance to write the report. What I really wanted to do was get the right answer."
He had professorship, tenure, prestige. Then he discovered cyberspace.
On October 9, Larry Lessig will again claim a national spotlight.
In Eldred v. Ashcroft, his first argument before the Supreme Court -- and only his second appearance before any court, in any venue -- Lessig will attempt to convince the justices to overturn the 1998 Sonny Bono Copyright Term Extension Act. To Lessig it is both an opportunity to make up for losing the prize that was snatched from him some four years ago, and a giant step in his crusade to stop a trend he fears may be inevitable: big-media dinosaurs controlling the Internet.
That's why the law professor has declared war on Mickey Mouse.
It is the third of July in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and in a few minutes Larry Lessig is going to tell us how bad things are. Outside it is sweltering, but in Langdell Hall, where the Berkman Center of the Harvard Law School is holding a weeklong seminar, it is comfortably air-conditioned. Sitting in the corner of the lecture amphitheater -- each seat wired with power plugs and Ethernet ports -- he feverishly pecks on his iBook. He's wearing a checked Gap shirt and his trademark black jeans. Lessig looks like an intellectual. At 41, his face has the soft pallor of a life spent out of the sun. His features gather toward the center of his face, a configuration accentuated by tiny, Rumpole of the Bailey wire-rim glasses that barely cover his eye sockets. But Lessig's most distinctive feature is a startlingly high forehead; it's almost as if, in an attempt to accommodate his brain, the top of his head was pulled up a couple of inches, like an image stretched by Kai's Power Tools.
Normally, Lessig is a private, even shy, person. His students once asked him to tell them something about himself. He responded with one word: No. Before an audience, however, Lessig becomes electric.
"I was blown away," says Harvard Law's Charlie Nesson of the first time he saw Lessig teach. "He had the ethos, the spirit, the logic, and a Zen quality that goes right to the button." At times, Lessig seems more poet than lawyer. He isolates key phrases, repeating them, stretching them out, and luxuriating in their sound. Punctuating his themes are his distinctively styled PowerPoint slides that he creates using an obscure typewriter font downloaded free from a company called P22.
Today, Lessig is talking about the regulation of speech. He considers naive those who believe that the very existence of the Internet ensures free speech. That may have been part of the original Net code, he argues, but regulation may well disable that code. The freedom of the Internet didn't do much for Napster, did it? We may snicker that Congress is clueless, and chortle over the follies of record labels trying to catch up to the digital world. However, their laws and lawsuits have the potential to ruin the most idealistic aspects of the Net. Lessig believes it's already happening.
He is famously pessimistic about this trend. He has even referred to such pessimism as "my brand," joking that his agent has congratulated him for enhancing his brand identity with a perpetually bleak outlook. He calls it as he sees it, and when it comes to the Internet, his vision has proved sharper than anyone's.
It's not just a vision he's promoting -- it's a cause. His speech and his slides tell his Harvard audience the story of a valued commons of ideas threatened by big powers. The vast majority of intellectual property used to be in the public domain; now most is available only by permission. He takes particular delight in singling out the Walt Disney Company as the symbol of how the past is using its power to kill the future. The company was a major lobbying force behind the Sonny Bono Act, the law that Lessig is urging the Supreme Court to overturn. The measure was only the latest extension of copyright -- which the Constitution explicitly dictates should be "limited" -- from an original 14 years to an automatic 70 past the death of the creator. Most notably, the law protects Steamboat Willie, the first Mickey Mouse cartoon, from slipping into the public domain. (Lessig shows a clip of it in his PowerPoint presentation -- fair use, one assumes.) The big problem, as Lessig sees it, is that continual extensions of copyright prevent anything new from entering the public domain. This is most ironic, notes Lessig, since Disney dredged the public domain for its most lucrative properties. A PowerPoint slide lists the examples, from Snow White to The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Because of the Bono Act, Lessig asserts, "no one can do to Disney as Disney did to the Brothers Grimm."
The Berkman crowd is predictably appreciative, but being lawyers, they don't get as rowdy as, say, the Usenet conference Lessig spoke to a couple of weeks before. "That was the first standing ovation I ever had," marvels the professor. And it wouldn't be the last. As the Eldred case approaches, Lessig has embarked on a sort of barnstorming tour of conferences and seminars around the world, inveighing about Hollywood's "insane rules," upbraiding like-minded geeks for not taking action, and advocating a "million-bit march" on Washington to urge politicians to understand and embrace intellectual property rights. As he neared the end of his tour, Lessig was frustrated. They stand and applaud, he told himself, but why don't they fight?
A couple of weeks earlier, I'd asked Lessig a slightly different question: Why do you fight? The very question propelled Lessig -- who seems to casual observers so able and confident that he can resolve even the knottiest dilemma with a built-in Occam's razor -- into a surprising bout of self-examination. But for a chronically straight arrow, Larry Lessig has always had a flair for surprise.
Lessig was born in 1961 in South Dakota. His father, Jack, was an engineer, and helped build silos for Minuteman missiles. Within a few years, the family moved to Williamsport, Pennsylvania, where Jack bought a steel-fabricating company. Larry remembers Williamsport as "a tiny town -- not tiny in population, but in its understanding of the world." Jack Lessig was doggedly traditional, and moral in a way that would have won Ayn Rand's approval: Once, when he underbid a job, he refused to change the assessment and performed the work at a loss. The family was churchgoing, law-abiding, and above all, faithful to the Grand Old Party. "I grew up a right-wing lunatic Republican," says Lessig.
As early as anyone can remember, Larry Lessig astonished people with his intellect. His sister Leslie (he also has two half-siblings from his mother's first marriage) recalls him as a second grader, running through the list of American presidents backward and forward. Though he engaged in the usual smart-kid stuff -- stamp collecting, chemistry sets, a thing for Thomas Edison -- his passion was politics. Specifically, the right-wing lunatic brand of his father. In high school, Lessig was an avid member of the National Teen Age Republicans, and he served as the governor of Pennsylvania in the mock government formed by this cadre of future country clubbers. Everybody around him thought young Larry would one day be president. (That was when a correlation existed between the White House and intelligence.) After high school, he planted his foot in the political ring by running the campaign of a would-be state senator. It was the summer of 1980, and Lessig was the youngest member of Pennsylvania's delegation at the Republican Convention that nominated Ronald Reagan. His state senate candidate got creamed. "It was lucky," says Lessig. "If he'd won, I would now be a political hack."
Disillusioned, Lessig entered the University of Pennsylvania, where his father and grandfather had graduated. Thinking he would follow his father into business, he studied economics and management, earning degrees in both. Once he graduated from Penn, his intellectual path was forever altered. He went to Trinity College in Cambridge, England, for what he thought would be an extra year of coursework. He wound up spending three years there studying philosophy. "I just fell in love with the place," he says. "For the first time, I really felt like I was
He also latched onto a different sort of politics. It was the height of the Thatcher Revolution, and Lessig found himself siding with the workers. "I remember going to Cambridge as a very strong libertarian theist," he says. "By the time I left I was not a libertarian in that sense, and no longer much of a theist." He was, however, passionate about freedom, and in particular excited about the prospect of liberty emerging in the former Soviet sphere. "I was obsessed with Eastern Europe and Russia," says Lessig, who hitchhiked through the area (and eventually became involved in its intrigues). Certainly, the Larry Lessig who returned from Cambridge was a shock to his family. "He came back a different person," says his sister Leslie. "His views of politics, religion, and his career had totally flipped."
After earning his master's in philosophy, Lessig decided to shift to something more, well, real. Years earlier, another relative of Lessig's, an uncle named Richard Cates, had given him a lecture on the law. Cates had worked as counsel for the House Impeachment Committee, and in the midst of the Watergate furor visited the Lessig household. "Of course, in our house you couldn't talk about impeachment," says Lessig. "But I remember he and I went for a walk and wound up sitting on this cliff, and he told me about what the law was." This is the only place where reason controls power, Cates instructed his nephew. The moment stayed with Lessig, and in 1986 he entered the University of Chicago Law School.
Lessig spent only one year in Chicago, though. His girlfriend at the time got a fellowship at Yale, and so he transferred there, something that was possible only because he'd wowed his profs in first-year law. The shift wasn't just geographical: Chicago is known as a school where lawyers learn law; Yale's rep is more ephemeral, a place where theories are valued more than the dirty work of contracts and litigation. No problem for Lessig. "He stood out as a brilliant, broad-ranging intellect," says Yale's constitutional law guru Bruce Ackerman. "The kind of depth Larry has isn't so common." Lessig particularly fell in love with constitutional law. He decided he wanted to write about it and teach it himself. At Lessig's graduation, Ackerman told a startled Jack Lessig that Larry was going to be a great professor. The father looked like he'd been struck with a two-by-four. ("He doesn't have a lot of respect for academic types," says Lessig. Now, of course, Jack couldn't be prouder of his celebrated son.)
In the postgrad pecking order, Ivy League law school superstars compete for clerkships with federal judges. Then the cream of the cream rises to the elite fraternity of Supreme Court clerks. After Yale, Lessig served Judge Richard Posner, the sharpest legal mind in the country. Says Posner, "He was terrific, a tremendous worker who had a ferocious intensity." The judge now considers Lessig "the most distinguished law professor of his generation." Lessig completed the legal-giant quiniela by clerking for Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia. "His clerks hated me because I was a liberal," says Lessig.
Bound by the Supreme Court's ironclad omertà against divulging in-chambers skinny, Lessig can't discuss his work on decisions rendered during the 1990 to 1991 term. But he can talk about his participation in one revolution at the high court. For years, he had been a computer nut -- after college he actually did some programming for a financial forecasting firm -- and, as an aficionado of good computer design, he despised the clunky Atex system then used by the Supreme Court Printing Office. So Lessig joined with a few other clerks to convince the Supremes to stop, in the name of user-friendliness. The high point of this effort was a demonstration for justices Sandra Day O'Connor, Scalia, and David Souter. Using Lessig's own Dell machine, the clerks staged a software shoot-out between Atex terminals and PCs running desktop-publishing software. Lessig and his colleagues won the day. But to implement a new system, complicated adjustments to some of the PC applications were required. Lessig wound up doing the job himself, hacking "extraordinarily complicated macros inside of WordPerfect." (Talk about code being law.)
After his clerkship, Lessig took the bar exam, then decamped to Costa Rica, where he spent a month reading 35 old novels on a beach blanket. He'd already been hired to teach in Chicago. As Ackerman had predicted, Lessig was on track for an incandescent career as a professor. He passed the next few years teaching constitutional law at Chicago and studying the political transitions in Eastern Europe, even helping the Republic of Georgia write its own constitution.
He had his professorship, tenure, and prestige. He was set for life. "I made it," he says. "That was all I wanted to do."
Then he discovered cyberspace.
On a walk in New York's Greenwich Village one afternoon in 1993, Lessig noticed a headline in the The Village Voice: "A RAPE IN CYBERSPACE." It was Julian Dibbell's account of a virtual sexual assault in a MUD. Lessig had recently read Only Words, a book on sexual harassment by Catharine MacKinnon (he'd taken a course with her at Yale), and as he read Dibbell's piece, Lessig was struck by how closely the concerns of the participants in the virtual world (devastated by "only words") resonated with those of MacKinnon, whose radical views (porn isn't protected speech) were generally considered anathema at the Voice. This suggested to Lessig that cyberspace was virgin intellectual territory, where ideas had yet to be boxed in by orthodoxy.
"It was a place where nobody knows their politics," says Lessig. He began thinking about the concept of law in this nonphysical space, and made notes for a course on the subject.
Lessig taught Law and Cyberspace as a visiting professor at Yale in the spring of 1995. That semester he had his first intuition about the relationship between code and the law. In the course of discussing searches and the Fourth Amendment, a student wrote a paper about how Internet worms could search someone's computer and then disappear. It made Lessig wonder how new technologies could shape law. His thoughts led to something that flew in the face of his students' near-drunken optimism about the Internet: Restrictive code, whether embodied in legal regulations or in computer programs, could trump the seemingly unstoppable freedoms delivered by the Internet. At the time, John Gilmore's exultant claim that "the Internet sees censorship as damage and routes around it" was widely accepted as truth. But Lessig began to think that it was less truism than wishful thinking. The right -- or wrong -- code could indeed implement censorship or surveillance or other injustices. "That insight," says Lessig, "became a central way of organizing the law of cyberspace."
Lessig began to develop his ideas into a book, and when he was offered a fellowship at Harvard in 1996, he decided to write it there. At the time, the law school's Charlie Nesson was beginning to organize the Berkman Center for Internet and Society, a branch of the law school devoted to cyberspace issues, and the administrator set his sights on hiring the field's first superstar. "We had to have him," says Nesson, who allocated half the center's $5.4 million initial budget to support Lessig as the Berkman professor. Lessig took the post in the summer of 1997 and was almost finished writing Code when, just before Thanksgiving, he got the call from Judge Jackson.
The formal appointment came on December 11. It was an unusual job -- and unusually important. As special master, Lessig was given the power to gather information independently, examine witnesses, and evaluate technical data, all with the authority of the court. Then he would produce his own report and recommendations, which theoretically would provide a blueprint for Judge Jackson's eventual ruling and remedy.
Microsoft objected, claiming there was no legal basis for such a role. "We felt that only a federal judge, appointed by the president, could make such determinations," explains Microsoft's general counsel Brad Smith. During the first conference call Lessig organized between the opposing parties, Microsoft's lawyers told the putative special master that they would not be cooperating while his role was under dispute. Lessig politely but firmly informed them that he had a job to do, and would proceed whether or not they argued their side of the facts. Bluff called, Microsoft quickly changed course.
"I like your spirit!" Judge Jackson faxed Lessig after that showdown. "You have the makings of a federal court judge."
Lessig held several more lengthy conference calls between the participants, each time asking for more technical information. Ironically, the same issues he was seeking to resolve -- like the effect of removing the Explorer browser from Windows -- are items of contention in the current iteration of the lawsuit, almost five years later. Certainly, Microsoft had the opportunity to have a neutral legal observer navigate the complicated technical issues at a depth that a judge could not attempt. Instead, the company chose to use every measure available to block Lessig's participation.
Specifically, it claimed that he was not neutral. The Softie lawyers recast Lessig's various writings about "code" as an anti-Redmond rant. (In one passage, Lessig compared the relatively open Internet Engineering Task Force to the "absolutely closed Microsoft Corporation." Microsoft claimed this was equivalent to calling the company "a threat to political freedom.") Then they introduced what seemed like a smoking gun: an old email Lessig had sent then-Netscape executive Peter Harter, asking if his copy of Internet Explorer was messing up the bookmarks on his Mac. Lessig had made a joke about installing the software, putting a quote in parentheses: "Sold my soul and nothing happened."
"So Microsoft winds up saying I should be kicked off because I use a Macintosh," explains Lessig. "But they're also talking about how my language about code is political -- code has values -- and they would fill their briefs with this, as if I was some lunatic crazy."
Because Lessig was bound by confidentiality, he couldn't speak out. "This was his professional reputation at stake, and he couldn't respond," says Harvard Law's Zittrain. When Judge Jackson ruled on Microsoft's challenge, he predictably dismissed the company's objections, making it a point to call their attacks on Lessig "defamatory." Microsoft appealed. Lessig filed an affidavit explaining that the "sold my soul" line was actually a riff on a Jill Sobule song. "Its meaning in context was not the confession of some profound 'Faustian bargain,'" he wrote. "It was instead a facetious response to an anticipated tease in an email between friends." Lessig also insisted that the passages in his writings about Microsoft in relation to his theories of "code" were similarly neutral.
For Microsoft, the proceedings were just business, as Tony Soprano says. Nothing personal. Even though the controversy is over, company counsel Smith won't go on the record to say that Microsoft dealt unfairly with Lessig. However, he does allow that Lessig "is a principled intellectual thinker" who does not "have an animus toward anyone or anything." (Meanwhile, Lessig has since developed a friendship with Microsoft chief technical officer Craig Mundie; they're co-chairing a panel on identity and cyberspace.) In theory, when the Court of Appeals removed Lessig from the case, the judges could have added a line to the effect that they looked at Microsoft's claims against Lessig and found them without merit. The fact that they didn't still rankles him.
"You know, the Microsoft case was such a gift, and the problem was so interesting and fun," says Lessig. "Not getting a chance to finish was extraordinarily frustrating. And not getting a chance to finish it in the context where lots of people thought I was kicked off because I was biased was doubly frustrating."
At any rate, the episode helped get Lessig's name out. Code was published in 1999 to wide acclaim. Before the book arrived, cyberlaw was an amorphous collection of ideas and issues that awkwardly transferred current laws and regulations to the supercharged new digital landscape. Lessig gave the field a foundation with his sweeping analysis. He argued that the very architecture of software applications and the Internet comprised a sort of legal system unto itself, one that could be altered by outside forces. "Larry looked at an extant debate and said, 'This is the wrong debate,'" says Zittrain. "Once you hear it, [his theory] is obvious." By providing a framework to look at how law applied to the Internet and new technologies, Lessig had, in effect, lifted cyberlaw from the practice of a disparate group of lawyers, representing hackers or toiling in intellectual property or coping with spectrum regulation, into a coherent field of study.
Lessig had mapped the battlefield. It didn't necessarily follow that he should become a warrior. But he did. "Code was an academic book," he says. "There's an argument about how cyberspace is changing and how commerce will change cyberspace. And there's a frustration with libertarians who are oblivious to the sense in which it's regulatable. But it wasn't yet a movement." Writing Code, though, planted the seeds for an activist approach.
One of the potential consequences of Lessig's architecture-as-reality argument was that code could wind up protecting intellectual property -- in theory, even to the detriment of free speech and conventional fair-use protections. Indeed, when viewing developments on the late-1990s Internet through that filter, Lessig saw that copyright holders were implementing such a system -- boldly and expeditiously.
"The things I was pessimistic about [in Code] happened more dramatically and quickly than I thought they would," he says. "What turned me into an advocate was seeing how the law was being used [to implement] an extremist conception of intellectual property. It was dishonest, in a certain sense, an overreaching corruption of a political system." The Napster case was a prime example: By shutting down Shawn Fanning's peer-to-peer music distribution network, the record labels had ended an infinitely promising experiment. To Lessig, it was the classic move of a dinosaur using its heft to stifle innovation.
A different dinosaur tactic now occupies Larry Lessig: the Sonny Bono Copyright Term Extension Act. Because of Disney's role in juicing Congress to pass the bill, some have nicknamed it the Mickey Mouse Preservation Act. To Lessig, the extension was a power grab, particularly troubling in the world of the Internet, where copyright is a bigger club than in the predigital world. (Simply reading something on the Internet involves copying it, and the movement of files can be tracked.) Lessig had originally been excited by the Internet's potential as a vast commons of shared information. The Bono Act was a prime example of how the law could starve that commons. Working with the Berkman Center, Lessig set out to challenge the law.
"Sold my soul," he joked about Microsoft. The email became a smoking gun.
But how would he frame it? The obvious way was to say that with its most recent extension, Congress had finally gone beyond any reasonable interpretation of what the framers could have meant by "limited." That approach hadn't worked in the past, so Lessig constructed a different argument. In Article 1, Section 8, the founding fathers not only instructed Congress what to do regarding copyright -- secure "for limited times to authors and inventors the exclusive right to their respective writings and discoveries" -- but also stated why they should do it ("to promote the progress of science and useful arts"). Of course, Lessig's complaint includes the idea that Congress' continual extensions make a mockery of the word "limited" (one professor called it perpetual ownership "on the installment plan"). But the main thrust of Lessig's argument rests on the fact that, as with previous extensions, the Copyright Term Extension Act not only grants new copyright holders a longer term of exclusivity, it grandfathers in previous works. A retroactive extension of copyright clearly violates the Constitution.
In Lessig's view, the wigheads in Philadelphia had laid out a bargain for creators of intellectual property: We want you to develop original art and science, so we'll give you an incentive -- a temporary monopoly on the use of your work. In theory, this means that Walt Disney would lay out the money to make a cartoon knowing that he'd have a certain number of years to collect the royalties. Yet granting Walt (or his heirs) a longer period for works created before most of us were born doesn't promote progress; Steamboat Willie is already here. Obviously, a retroactive extension can't provide an incentive -- "Gershwin isn't going to write any more music," notes Lessig. To the contrary, the cause of "art and science" actually suffers under retroactive extensions, because works that otherwise would have been returned to the public are kept in private hands.
Lessig's arguments are controversial. Intellectual property lawyers generally never considered them: The very basis of their universe is the assumption that Congress can do whatever it wants with the copyright clause. "I am a great admirer of Larry Lessig," says Jack Valenti, Hollywood's master lobbyist. "But Congress has the power to say what 'limited' is. It's there, it's unambiguous. Fifty-five men in Philadelphia decided it, and there's no way a court can overrule that." When Lessig went to his colleague Arthur Miller, he heard much the same thing: Of course Congress can do this. (Miller later wrote an amicus brief in defense of the law.)
Lessig's response is fairly unlawyer-like. "This is one of those issues where you're not permitted to disagree," he says. "There are a lot of issues where that's fair. This is not one of them. They're just plain wrong. I believe that if they weren't working for clients who had millions of dollars hanging on it, if we sat down in good faith and talked about it, they'd come around to seeing it my way."
So Lessig and Berkmanites Nesson and Zittrain put together a team to launch the challenge, including corporate attorney
Geoffrey Stewart. Stewart considered Lessig "a genius," but was surprised by his passion. "He wasn't out to make a statement, but wanted to win," he says.
The next step was finding a plaintiff, someone suffering harm by the extended copyright period and the abuse of the Constitution it represented. Actually, several would be needed, each absorbing a different blow from that abuse. Lessig and his team collected a stellar cast. There was Dover Publications, forced to scrap its plans to publish The Prophet and Edna St. Vincent Millay's The Ballad of the Harp Weaver (both prevented by the act from entering the public domain). There was a nonprofit group dedicated to preserving old movies. (Because early films are protected -- with copyright often assigned to owners who can't be traced -- there's no incentive to save them from the ravages of erosion, and they're literally killed by copyright.) A choir director at an Athens, Georgia, Episcopal church who relied on public-domain sheet music. Two publishers of historical works. But the most important among them would be the lead plaintiff.
The obvious choice was Michael Hart, founder of the Project Gutenberg. For years, Hart had been posting text files of public-domain books on the Internet; his online library was approaching 6,000 titles. When Lessig and his colleagues flew to Hart's hometown of Urbana, Illinois, to explain the case, though, Hart was adamant that the Berkman team's briefs integrate his manifestos attacking the greed of copyright holders. Anything less, he felt, would make him a mere "figurehead." Lessig wouldn't compromise: "Our view was that populist appeals are great, but you've got to frame a constitutional argument." Finally, Hart said, "Enough -- you can't use my name."
The Berkman team desperately cast about for another lead plaintiff. The answer was a 59-year-old former Unix administrator named Eric Eldred who publishes HTML-based works in the public domain from his cable modem-equipped house in New Hampshire. He wanted to use some early Robert Frost poems whose copyrights were due to expire -- until the Bono Act dictated otherwise. And so Eldred became a name that may one day join Roe, Brown, and other famous plaintiffs in Supreme Court decisions. The complaint was filed in January 1999.
The first round took place in the DC District Court before Judge June Green. As is the custom, Lessig and his team filed their initial complaint and gathered supporting complaints from lawyers who joined the litigation. Kathleen Sullivan, the dean at Stanford Law, advised them on a friend-of-the-court brief charging that the Bono Act violated the First Amendment by restricting access to speech without the special scrutiny required in such circum-stances. The government's brief countered that Congress is free to set whatever term it feels is appropriate, period. In October, Judge Green sided with the government, on the briefs alone. "I wasn't surprised she upheld the statute," says Lessig. "I was just surprised she did it without allowing an argument." Strike one.
The Berkman team took the case to the Court of Appeals later that year. This was the first and only time Lessig appeared in court on behalf of a client. "It was one of the better arguments I've ever seen," says Geoffrey Stewart. "He knew all the cases, and there was no point too grand or too trivial to escape his grasp. At a certain point, the level of questioning changed from a classic appellate argument to a dialog of genuine give-and-take." Lessig himself was pleased: "I was nervous before it started, but once it got going it was great fun," he says. The proof, though, would be in the decision: Since an ultimate victory would come only in the Supreme Court, a favorable ruling wasn't absolutely necessary -- yet if the decision unanimously upheld the law, there would be practically no chance the Supreme Court would agree to hear the case.
The verdict was 2 to 1 supporting the government. Strike two. Even so, Lessig got his dissent, from the most conservative judge. When the Berkman team asked the entire circuit to hear the case en banc, the request was denied 7 to 2, but they picked up another dissent, this time from a liberal judge. Those into reading legal tea leaves noted that such range made the case more attractive to the Supreme Court. However, most observers thought that the Supremes would leave it alone -- and thus were surprised when the Court granted cert to the case earlier this year.
I catch Larry Lessig for our last interview at his office at Stanford, his home base since leaving Harvard in 2000. (He's still an affiliate at Berkman.) Lessig explains that his wife, lawyer Bettina Neuefeind, wanted to move to the West Coast, and Stanford offered him a chance to promote his brand of activist cyberlaw by starting new initiatives. The beginnings of a mini-empire have sprung up around Lessig at Stanford. First he formed the Center for Internet and Society, a combination think tank and law clinic that handles -- and sometimes takes the lead litigating -- cases involving civil rights and issues of digital technology. With the Creative Commons, he hopes to provide a technological means through which content creators can publish their work unconstrained by current copyright restrictions.
It's an ambitious project requiring complicated protocols that let authors tag their works as publicly available and help readers locate and reuse those works. "It's a conservancy, like a land trust, where people can get access to content in the public domain that otherwise wouldn't be there," says Lessig. Will people flock in droves to give their work away? It's an interesting question; Lessig, who adores the open source movement, is betting they will. "I think it could be widely used," he says. He plans to spend most of next year getting the organization off the ground.
After the interview, we whiz up Highway 280 from Stanford to San Francisco in Lessig's two-seater Audi TT sports car -- purchased with his special master fees -- for an informal dinner with his wife. She is a former student (Lessig, ever the picture of probity, assures me there was no funny stuff until three years after her graduation) who works in Oakland representing low-income defendants in housing cases. It's a different kind of lawyering than Lessig's: If she loses a case, her client is on the street.
Which takes us back to the issue of why he fights. Sometimes, in his own dark way, Lessig notes the lack of gritty urgency in his own work, and questions his direction. In an earlier interview I asked him why, of all possible causes, in a world fraught with terrorism, hunger, and oppression, he has chosen to storm the ramparts for the cause of intellectual property. It's something he's asked himself frequently.
"This is the first time I have an answer. There are issues I think are deeply unjust about our legal system, outrageously so. You know, the legal system for the poor is outrageous, and I'm wildly opposed to the death penalty. There are a million things like that -- you can't do anything about them. I could go be a politician, but I just could never do something like that. But [cyberspace] was an area where, the more I understood it, the more I felt there was a right answer. The law does give a right answer."
Since that conversation, however, he's been working over the question and he's having doubts. Compared with his wife's involvement in the high drama of real life, what impact is he really making?
It's interesting that he's taking the question so seriously -- but totally consistent with his glass-half-empty approach to life. From the outside, it seems that Larry Lessig's existence has been privileged. Nice upbringing. Ivy League education, then Cambridge and top law schools. The best clerkships. Tenured law professor. And now an acclaimed author, speaker, and, ultimately, Supreme Court litigator. Yet he doesn't see it that way at all. "I always feel I should have been better at each of those steps. I bring to it this expectation that there's a lot more somebody else could have done."
"So far I've lost, lost at every level."
What about Eldred v. Ashcroft, where Lessig took a case that no one thought plausible and now has it before the Supreme Court, with a chance to make history? Glass half empty. "So far I've lost," he says. "Lost at every level."
Still, those representing the dinosaurs of the old economy would be mistaken if they assumed that the introspection of the private Lessig in any way compromises the strength of the public Lessig. Fighting the government will be a mesmerizing speaker armed with the confidence of superior brainpower and a conviction that he's on the side of the angels. It was this belief that made his 278-plus hours as a special master a blissful idyll: Despite all the previous failed attempts to do so, Lessig felt he could see the right way out. And he feels it again now. "You know," he says, "going to the Supreme Court with this case -- I created this case -- is that kind of chance."
To anyone who's followed Lessig's brilliant career, the Microsoft episode is long over. But to the man himself, the legal boxes and loose-leaf binders he carried to Stanford are very serious baggage. On October 9, Larry Lessig will get his chance to finally leave it behind.
Contributing writer Steven Levy (steven@echonyc.com), the author of Crypto, profiled Stephen Wolfram in Wired 10.06.
The article does point out-- correctly-- that Disney's lobbying for copyright extentions has a lot to do with the Steamboat Willie and a many other early shorts. Willie stands out because of it's historical signifigance (all the more reason for it to enter public domain, IMHO), but it's often misquoted as being the first "Mickey". I hope Lessig doesn't use this misquote in his case against the Supreme Court. I'm all for the idea of copyright, but the lengthening of copyright extentions to protect such documents has gotten way out of hand. Obviously, this issue has been discussed in the animation industry for years, and there are many animators-- both working and retired, corporate and indie-- who are against the Copyright Term Extention Act, simply because it is detrimental to the cause of film preservation. Disney is supposed to have an incredibly well-maintained archive, but there are many, many non-Disney motion pictures that are deteriorating due to their owners' negligence.
Okay, I understand that there are many reasons to dislike current copyright laws, but that is not to say that intellectual property right protection, be it patents or copyrights are a bad idea. It is their misapplication and abuse that result in the mess we often see today. Otherwise what do you propose to take their place?
Without some sort of protection guaranteeing that I can recoup the investment costs of creation (be it research and development or simply the creative costs of writing a novel), what incentive do I have to create anything to begin with? Why should I contribute *my* ideas so that you can do whatever you want with them, without my permission and without my compensation? If I labor, I am entitled to require payment for my labor -- it is trade. If my labor is then primarily mental rather than material, why should I expect less for my work?
The need for proper balanced intellectual property protection is needed now more than ever because with today's technology is it easier now more than ever to reproduce someone's mental labor. Now, balanced protection is important, and arguing what is balanced is difficult and honestly I don't currently have a better solution. However, to claim that all copyright protection is wrong only shows that one wants to do nothing but be a freeloader, feeding off the creative works that *others* produce claiming that you, who have produced nothing, have some divine right to benefit as well.
Who said Freedom was Fair?
Firstly, kudos to the article. It's nice to see that wired and its staff are on the ball and have at least one top notch reporter.
Secondly, the Internet IS the creative commons, why do we as people, freethinkers, and artists need to make various renditions of other peoples work? Let Disney own Mickey; let our own minds own our own works. Have some faith in our new technologies and those whom work them to supersede past intellect. The problem with copyright legislation is that it is pointless; copyright in itself is antiquated. Information is abundant; if there are any restraints made on certain formats or expressions then those will be the same that die out, with or without legal restraints.
Thirdly, Lawyers should focus on providing service for those whom lack understanding of laws and its convolution. I feel as though Mr. Lessig is a physicist working on extra-physical phenomenon. It is a shame that his wife retains his lost practicality.
Lastly, I hope he wins, only to help his supposed reflected upon self-worthlessness, to build his pride, and drown out his humility, as it is unnatural for an lawyer to carry.
Untitled Document
TechTV featured Lawrence Lessig on one of their shows, Big
Thinkers. Listen to him explain his view of cyberlaw in a video clip found
at the same web site...
bigd0g
If you can't run with the bigd0g, stay on the porch!
Here's a link to an interesting interview that was just posted with Lawrence Lessig. Some really good, in depth conversation on the case. Here, he talks about public-domain web-publishing, the history of copyright, and the relevance of Thomas Jefferson to the internet. Enjoy! http://www.immaterial.net/page.php/95/
___________brokenhill.net___________
"Esotericism should not be mental, it should have ritual." --M. Duchamp
Good luck, Mr. Lessig.