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Update To Pavlovich DeCSS case; Stay Lifted
MeanMF writes "Update to this article:Infoworld reports that the Justice O'Connor of the U.S. Supreme Court has lifted the temporary stay on the California Supreme Court's ruling that Pavlovich can not be tried in California courts. That ruling can now take effect. More from the EFF."
Then don't feel compelled to post
I dont know why they still use the CSS encryption, its been proven to be easily circumvented..
Just release new titles with no encryption - those that care enough to copy a DVD will still do it regardless of CSS..
Personlly, I buy the DVD's I wish to watch.. ones I dont want to own I rent and some of them (Like the movie: Dungeons & Dragons) wouldnt eb worth wasting a blank media on
They should ditch region coding too.. but thats another argument.
-- If at first you don't succeed, lie!
It turned out that after the unbridled glee had evaporated, I still had to pee!
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"A microprocessor... is a terrible thing to waste." --
GeneralEmergency
The Great Depression had a devastating effect on the "L" and eventually brought down Insull's (you can substitue fuddles/va lairy?, or whoever fits) utilities and transportation empire, sometimes referred to as the "House that FUDge billked" - due to what became an overly leveraged financial position of his main holding company. Due to radically reduced employment, the "L"'s ridership plummeted. The CRT had accumulated an surplus of $3.6 million, which helped it ride out the early years of the Depression with high hopes that the setback would only be temporary. It wasn't.
Revenue ridership dropped 13.8 million people from 1929 to 1930. Ridership for 1931 plunged another 30.5 million and the CRT posted its first-ever loss of $1.5 million. Disaster was temporarily diverted by drawing on the surplus, but the CRT was at the mercy of larger economic forced beyond its control. The surplus was quickly depleted and the company was rendered insolvent. On June 6, 1932, Insull resigned as chairman and director of the Chicago Rapid Transit Company, effective the next day. On June 28th, the Westinghouse Electric and Manufacturing Company filed a creditor's suit requesting the appointment of a receiver. The court appointed Britton Budd and Chicago Public Works Commissioner Albert A. Sprague, though Budd would eventually retire. The CRT's collapse probably would have come sooner, had it not been propped up by Insull's utilities empire, which it also proceeded to drag down with it. The story was repeated several times at the onset of the Depression: how the financial overextension of a holding company - in this case, Insull's Middle West Utilities - can bring down its otherwise healthy subsidiaries - in this case, the power companies.
Insull's fortunes were in ruins. He was badly overextended and had failed to squirrel away a personal fortune separate from his corporate accounts, so when his companies went bankrupt one by one, so did he. He ended up living out his years on a small pension from his business interests. One of Insull's chief business strategies had been to solicit many small investments from people of modest means. When Middle West Utilities, Insull's chief holding company, entered receivership in 1932, many saw their life saving wiped out and Insull became an intensely disliked individual. The former utilities and transit magnate decided to retire to Europe and ride out the rest of his years in quiet obscurity. But his final years would be anything but quiet.
In October 1932, Insull was indicted on charges of bankruptcy, embezzlement, and using the mails to defraud investors. Thus began an eighteen month chase in extradite Insull back to America.
Insull had settled in Greece and the Greek courts refused to honor the United States' petitions to have him extradited. But in 1934, Insull's visa was about to run out and it was clear that it would not be renewed. In March, he quietly left Athens aboard a steamer, the S.S. Maiotis, which had been chartered for Insull by an English friend. He tried to reach Romania, but the Romanian authorities would not grant him permission to enter the country and threatened to arrest him if he essayed a landing. Leaving Romania, the Maiotis was halted by Turkish authorities, who locked the former industrialist up in a small Istanbul jail cell for several days and nights. The Turkish courts agreed to extradite Insull back to the United States and he was released to American authorities on April 13, 1934. He was taken home aboard the American Export Line steamship Exilona, which entered New York harbor on May 7th. From there, he was taken by motorcade across New Jersey to Princeton Junction, where he boarded a private Pennsylvania Railroad car bound for Union Station, Chicago.
After all that effort, Insull was acquitted on all charges! Some felt he had been made the scapegoat for the whole stock market debacle. He returned to Paris after his trial to live out his remaining years. He died of a heart attack in a Paris subway on July 16, 1938, penniless according to popular legend. He was, in fact, not without money; it is likely that this rumor started because his wallet was pilfered when he died on the subway platform.
"Dude, you've got to get him out of your basement," said Dwayne.
"I've tried already," I said in a decidedly hushed voice looking back across the road at my parents house.
"My parents think he's better than me - he's putting some kind of wierd technical shit on my dad's computer.
It's fucking hopeless - they like him man."
Sally eyeballed between Dwayne and myself, obviously waiting to see which one of us was going to act first after winning this little debate.
That girl looked really hot in her bleached fucked up pigtails. I knew I had to do something to impress her.
"Just wait till he starts smelling again." Said Dwayne with the smug look of a victor in his eyes as he folded his arms.
"He's gonna start smelling again, and your parents are gonna whiff the goddamn nerd in your basement and think you have some pretty fucking weird friends. If he finds our weed and decides he likes that too - how much shit do you think you'll be in then. Huh?"
Dwayne nodded up and down Gangster style over his crossed arms.
Sally could tell he'd found a pretty tight strangle hold with that one.
Dwayne had won and I found myself acting. With one quick look over my shoulder and the thought of our stash of weed in mind I knew I had to do somethin'. Sally giggled as I started back for the basement again.
Pop's red Buick by the side of the road was a reminder of what was at stake. No goddamn Unix hippy was getting me in deep trouble with the folks like the joyride did last year.
"Get tha fuck outta the basement," was all I could think as I hustled across the lawn.
I looked in the sunken window and sure enough the glow of my dad's computer screen was clear enough in there. Holding me hostage or somethin'.
"Hey, hey, hey, Walter man," I called out with as much nicey shit as I could when I entered.
"Watcha doin?" I said as I neared his hallowed place at my dad's Walmart electronic piece of shite.
Walter looked up, that same look of Jesus Christ in technical Nirvana on his face again.
"Oh, I'm installing Slackware on your father's, er father's computer," he said as he bowed his bearded face again. How a kid of 17 could have that much hair on his face was really a strange thing.
Walter didn't look like he was in total turtle mode yet, maybe it was time to ask the big question.
"Wanna go drive - for a big Mac and coke with me, Dwayne and Sally. Tomato sauce with everything. It's starting to get late y'know?"
I kept my attention on him, whilst sitting back on the urge to throw my dad's computer against the wall.
"The thing about Linux - and well most desktop versions of Unix is that it takes a lot of um, work to set things up just so," said Walter as he beginning doing some technical shit with the fucking mouse.
I could hear Dwayne and Sally on the steps just outside. It was time for a time-out.
"He looks like he's found a home there" said Dwayne with a chuckle as I poked my head out the basement door.
"Fuck man." I exclaimed.
"He's tighter than Mr. Goober with a set of leathers. How the fuck am I gonna get him outta the house?"
Sally was really beginning to get with the giggles now.
"Dude, maybe you should attach a keyboard or somethin' to a fishing rod - dangle it outside the fucking window."
Sally was really hitting the high notes with her donkey assed laughter by now.
This night was starting to get pretty fucking lame.
That story touched me baby - YEEAAHHHH!
Uh huh huh.
I'll mod it up for ya sometime - ya dig?
...and we'll paint by numbers, 'til something sticks. Don't mind doin' it for the kids. Jump on board. Take a ride. We'll be doing it all night.
Another great American hero to wind up dead in Paris.
Alors.