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UCITA Stalled At State Level
OscarGunther writes "Four states have passed anti-UCITA laws and Massachusetts may soon become the fifth. Meanwhile, only two states have adopted the Uniform Computer Information Transactions Act, which gives software vendors all the benefits and none of the burdens of the consequences of publishing their software. The details can be found at ComputerWorld and an opinion piece by Frank Hayes can be found here."
Remember Utica!
âoeUgh... UGH!â Chris Pirillo moaned as he squatted over the ThumbDrive. He eyes darted back and forth like a stone man and he sighed gay breaths as he attempted to shove the device filled with the entire line of eBooks into his anus. His geek house trembled with fag vibrations comig from his crack but then- his doorbell rang, whistling the tune from âoeMatlockâ throughout his hovel. âoeDamn!â he howled in a gay sepulchur and slipped on a pair of pastel slacks. He trapsed to the threshold of his cold abode and grabbed the greasy doorknob that was shaped like Birdman. With a slavish sigh, he opened the door to see none other than Adam Sessler himself! A gay gasp escaped from Chris's dork lips and Adam began to speak. Quickly, Chris snapped at him. âoeDamnit for the last time you vagabond, you're not supposed to be here!â The revolting nerd slammed the door in Adam's face, but the Game Master quickly shoved his iron boot inbetween the door and the wall, wedging it open. âoeI have come for you,â he spoke in a cold tone; electric arcs coursed between the spikes in his cockneyed bleached hair. He howled as a blast of mystic Boohbahs eminated from his busy shirt and slammed Chris down the hall and into a Microsoft Digital Picture Frame. Chris grunted and swiped nerd dust and sheetrock from his arms. He rose to his feet and watched in horror as Adam brandished a weapon made from 3 Xbox controllers tied at the ends. âoeOh my word! Game periferals!â the dork bellowed; the stench of Cheetos and Diet Dr. Pepper wafted from his geek teeth. Instantly his palms began to sweat at the very sight of them, as if the grease from his McGriddle hadn't slicked them up enough. Chris tried to run, but it was too late. Adam swung the weapon above his head and threw it at the King of Nerds, entangling his legs and forcing him to the floor. Adam pulled a cestus made from PS2 DVDs out of his Spice Girls backpack and rushed Chris. He swiped at his turdly back over and over, causing streams of cold blood to squirt from his flesh. âoeOh god, the horror, the HORROR!â Chris moaned as Adam butchered him relentlessly. A old Brit with one eye and a cockneyed accent burst into the room and started kicking Chris in the side. Chris was just about do die when... he rose from his bed. It was just a dream! He laughed and took a sip of more Brawls Guarana, hoping he wouldn't fall asleep again. âoeTime to plot...â he grumbled and shoved yet another pin into his Leo Laporte voodoo doll.
TRASH
Sixty years ago, I worked in what was once my Grandfather's Greenhouses. Gramps had died a year earlier and Grandma, now in her seventies had been forced to sell to the competition. I got a job with the new owners and mostly worked the range by myself. That summer, they hired a man to help me get the benches ready for the fall planting.
Ike always looked like he was three days from a shave and his whiskers were dirty white, shaded by the brim of his battered felt fedora.
He did not chew tobacco but the corners of his mouth turned down in a way that, at any moment, I expected a trickle of thin, brown juice to creep down his chin. His bushy, brown eyebrows shaded pale, gray eyes.
The old-timer extended his hand, lifted his leg like a dog about to mark a bush and let go the loudest fart I ever heard. The old fellow then winked at me, "Ike Thomas is the name and playing pecker's my game."
I thought he said, "Checkers." I was nineteen, green as grass. I said, "I was never much good at that game."
"Now me," said Ike, "I just love jumping men . . ."
"I'll bet you do."
". . . and grabbing on to their peckers," said Ike.
"I though we were talking about . . ."
"You like jumping old men's peckers?"
I shook my head.
"I reckon we'll have to remedy that." Ike lifted his right leg and let go another tremendous fart. "He said, "We best be getting to work."
That summer of 1941 was a more innocent time. I learned most of the sex I knew from those little eight pager cartoon booklets of comic-page characters going at it. Young men read them in the privacy of an outside john, played with themselves, by themselves and didn't brag about it. Sometimes, we got off with a trusted friend and helped each other out.
Under the greenhouse glass, the temperature some times climbed over the hundred degree mark. I had worked stripped to the waist since April and was as brown as a berry. On only his second day on the job and in the middle of August, Ike wore old fashioned overalls. Those and socks in his high-top work shoes was every stitch he wore. When he bent forward, the bib front billowed out and I could see the white curly hairs on his chest and belly.
"Me? I just love to eat pussy!" Ike licked his lips from corner to corner then sticking his tongue out far enough that the tip could touch the end of his nose. He said, A man's not a man till he knows first hand, the flavor of a lady's pussy."
"People do that?"
He winked. "Of course the taste of a hard cock ain't to be sneezed at neither. Now you answer me, yes or no. Does a man's cock taste salty or not?"
"I never . . ."
"Well, old Ike's willing to let you find out."
"No way."
"Just teasing," said Ike. "But don't give me no sass or I'll show you my ass." He winked. "Might show it to you anyway, if you was to ask."
"Why would I do that?"
"Curiosity, maybe. I'm guessing you never had a good piece of man ass."
"I'm no queer."
"Now don't be getting judgmental. Enjoying what's at hand ain't being queer. It's taking pleasure where you find it with anybody willing." Ike slipped a hand into the side slit of his overalls and I could tell he was fondling and straightening out his cock. "Now I admit I got me a hole that satisfied a few guys."
I swallowed, hard.
Ike winked. "Care to be asshole buddies?"
***
We worked steadily until noon. Ike drew a worn pocket watch from the bib pocket of his loose overalls and croaked, "Bean time. But first its time to reel out our limber hoses and make with the golden arches before lunch."
I followed Ike to the end of the greenhouse where he stopped at the outside wall of the potting shed. He opened his fly, fished inside, and finger-hooked a soft white penis with a pouting foreskin puckered half an inch past the hidden head.
Alan Eldridge 1961 - 2003
....
Alan Eldridge (AlanE) passed away on 6 June 2003 in Denver, Colorado, USA, apparently the result of a self-induced overdose.
Born on 15 December 1961, Alan moved from Iowa to New York City some 15 years ago to make a life for himself as a first rate Unix programmer. Recently, however, his professional and personal life was severely disrupted, and as a result, Alan moved to Denver to start anew.
A member of the KDE on FreeBSD Core Team, both a FreeBSD and KDE committer and maintainer of numerous FreeBSD ports, Alan will be sorely missed by all those of us who knew him personally, by those who knew him only through his work and, indeed, by the entire FreeBSD and KDE communities at large.
Among Alan's many Open Source accomplishments were:
* KDE on FreeBSD Core Team member
* Member of the team creating ports and binary packages for KDE on FreeBSD
* Maintainer of KDE's kdesu module
* Maintainer of 47 FreeBSD ports, in particular: python, CUPS, fam, grip, autoconf, and automake; and former maintainer of phoenix and zope
* Three major independent projects: newfile, ruby-cdialog, and xmlrpc-jukebox
* A member of the SourceForge team maintaining BSD FAM
Reflections and Rememberences of Alan
To have your thoughts included here, contact drc
Alan's contributions to our team should not be underestimated or forgotten. When he was on his game, I know few people as productive, and he pushed us all to do better, be cleverer, work harder.
I refuse to whitewash the man. Alan was quick to point out when he thought you were trying to sugar coat something. Alan was the archetypical geek at times, difficult to work with in a team, sometimes hard to get along with. He was sometimes bristling and difficult, sometimes naive about how his abrasiveness appeared to others, and yet could be totally artless and charming, should it be pointed out to him.
Alan was smart and funny. He had a quick and often very sharp wit, and wasn't afraid to use it. An eclectic at heart, he turned me onto music I'd have otherwise never listened to, and books I'd otherwise never have read, films I wouldn't have watched, and you could have an intelligent disagreement with him on the wildest topics, so long as they weren't personal.
Watching someone selfdestruct and not being able to help them is a painful thing to go through, whether it's from up close or from afar. The last few months, when things started to not go so well, he became a lot harder to deal with, incommunicative, withdrawing from his previous sociable self, no longer happy to idle on IRC or chatter in email.
Alan had a lot to contribute, and people who really did care what happened to him. It was easy to be angry at him, but the reason he managed to inspire such anger is that I always knew that he was capable of so much more and better. I don't know if he understood that, or that if I didn't like him so much, I wouldn't have tried so hard.
It's stating the obvious to say that Alan's life was in chaos, and he was in a lot of pain. Choosing to take the way out of this pain that he did, it is very easy to feel bitter, and guilty, and even to feel guilty for not feeling guilty, and I think it's important that we acknowledge this, and allow ourselves to feel it.
âoeUgh... UGH!â Chris Pirillo moaned as he squatted over the ThumbDrive. He eyes darted back and forth like a stone man and he sighed gay breaths as he attempted to shove the device filled with the entire line of eBooks into his anus. His geek house trembled with fag vibrations comig from his crack but then- his doorbell rang, whistling the tune from âoeMatlockâ throughout his hovel. âoeDamn!â he howled in a gay sepulchur and slipped on a pair of pastel slacks. He trapsed to the threshold of his cold abode and grabbed the greasy doorknob that was shaped like Birdman. With a slavish sigh, he opened the door to see none other than Adam Sessler himself! A gay gasp escaped from Chris's dork lips and Adam began to speak. Quickly, Chris snapped at him. âoeDamnit for the last time you vagabond, you're not supposed to be here!â The revolting nerd slammed the door in Adam's face, but the Game Master quickly shoved his iron boot inbetween the door and the wall, wedging it open. âoeI have come for you,â he spoke in a cold tone; electric arcs coursed between the spikes in his cockneyed bleached hair. He howled as a blast of mystic Boohbahs eminated from his busy shirt and slammed Chris down the hall and into a Microsoft Digital Picture Frame. Chris grunted and swiped nerd dust and sheetrock from his arms. He rose to his feet and watched in horror as Adam brandished a weapon made from 3 Xbox controllers tied at the ends. âoeOh my word! Game periferals!â the dork bellowed; the stench of Cheetos and Diet Dr. Pepper wafted from his geek teeth. Instantly his palms began to sweat at the very sight of them, as if the grease from his McGriddle hadn't slicked them up enough. Chris tried to run, but it was too late. Adam swung the weapon above his head and threw it at the King of Nerds, entangling his legs and forcing him to the floor. Adam pulled a cestus made from PS2 DVDs out of his Spice Girls backpack and rushed Chris. He swiped at his turdly back over and over, causing streams of cold blood to squirt from his flesh. âoeOh god, the horror, the HORROR!â Chris moaned as Adam butchered him relentlessly. A old Brit with one eye and a cockneyed accent burst into the room and started kicking Chris in the side. Chris was just about do die when... he rose from his bed. It was just a dream! He laughed and took a sip of more Brawls Guarana, hoping he wouldn't fall asleep again. âoeTime to plot...â he grumbled and shoved yet another pin into his Leo Laporte voodoo doll.
TRASH
don't believe in UCITA, whatever that is.
BOOBIES R TASTY
Sweeeeeeeeeet!
http://yetanotherpoliticalrant.blogspot.com
Dear rotten.com, I am unsure if you are aware of the problems that your "Incident with the bird" picture has caused on the popular technology website slashdot (http://slashdot.org).
Many users of this site's messageboards are posting links to http://smoke.rotten.com/bird/ and making text based representations of a bird on a man's penis. Frankly, while I am pro-freedom, this type of photo sickens me. Could you please move the location of the bird page on your site to keep slashdot readers from seeing things that are completeley unrelated to computers and technology? I'm not asking you to remove the content, just to relocate it.
FYI the text representation of the bird is:
*p_e_n_i_s_b_i_r_d_p_e_n_i_s_b_i_r_d_*
p______...___________________________p
e____(_..__`'-.,--,__________________e
n_____'-._'-.__`\a\\_________________n
i_________'.___.'_(|_________________i
s____________7____||_________________s
b___________/___.'_|_________________b
i__________/_.-'__,J_________________i
r_________/_________\________________r
d________||___/______;_______________d
*________||__|_______|_______________*
p________`\__\_______|__/__''\_______p
e__________'._\______/.-`____{}|_____e
n___________/\_`;_.-'_________/______n
i___________\_;(((____.--'\_/________i
s_________.(((_____.-;\______________s
b____.--'`_____,;`'.'-;\_____________b
i_taco's____.'____'._.'\\____________i
r_dick_--'_________|__\_|____________r
d__________________\_\,_/____________d
*p_e_n_i_s_b_i_r_d_p_e_n_i_s_b_i_r_d_*
with a link to the offensive site (http://smoke.rotten.com/bird/) underneath, these "Penis Birds" are posted by Penis Bird Guy, Penis Bird MAN and several other users.
Regards, Andrew J. Tosh
what happened to adequacy.org? They used to be a good source for news.
âoeUgh... UGH!â Chris Pirillo moaned as he squatted over the ThumbDrive. He eyes darted back and forth like a stone man and he sighed gay breaths as he attempted to shove the device filled with the entire line of eBooks into his anus. His geek house trembled with fag vibrations comig from his crack but then- his doorbell rang, whistling the tune from âoeMatlockâ throughout his hovel. âoeDamn!â he howled in a gay sepulchur and slipped on a pair of pastel slacks. He trapsed to the threshold of his cold abode and grabbed the greasy doorknob that was shaped like Birdman. With a slavish sigh, he opened the door to see none other than Adam Sessler himself! A gay gasp escaped from Chris's dork lips and Adam began to speak. Quickly, Chris snapped at him. âoeDamnit for the last time you vagabond, you're not supposed to be here!â The revolting nerd slammed the door in Adam's face, but the Game Master quickly shoved his iron boot inbetween the door and the wall, wedging it open. âoeI have come for you,â he spoke in a cold tone; electric arcs coursed between the spikes in his cockneyed bleached hair. He howled as a blast of mystic Boohbahs eminated from his busy shirt and slammed Chris down the hall and into a Microsoft Digital Picture Frame. Chris grunted and swiped nerd dust and sheetrock from his arms. He rose to his feet and watched in horror as Adam brandished a weapon made from 3 Xbox controllers tied at the ends. âoeOh my word! Game periferals!â the dork bellowed; the stench of Cheetos and Diet Dr. Pepper wafted from his geek teeth. Instantly his palms began to sweat at the very sight of them, as if the grease from his McGriddle hadn't slicked them up enough. Chris tried to run, but it was too late. Adam swung the weapon above his head and threw it at the King of Nerds, entangling his legs and forcing him to the floor. Adam pulled a cestus made from PS2 DVDs out of his Spice Girls backpack and rushed Chris. He swiped at his turdly back over and over, causing streams of cold blood to squirt from his flesh. âoeOh god, the horror, the HORROR!â Chris moaned as Adam butchered him relentlessly. A old Brit with one eye and a cockneyed accent burst into the room and started kicking Chris in the side. Chris was just about do die when...he rose from his bed. It was just a dream! He laughed and took a sip of more Brawls Guarana, hoping he wouldn't fall asleep again. âoeTime to plot...â he grumbled and shoved yet another pin into his Leo Laporte voodoo doll.
âoeUgh... UGH!â Chris Pirillo moaned as he squatted over the ThumbDrive. He eyes darted back and forth like a stone man and he sighed gay breaths as he attempted to shove the device filled with the entire line of eBooks into his anus. His geek house trembled with fag vibrations comig from his crack but then- his doorbell rang, whistling the tune from âoeMatlockâ throughout his hovel. âoeDamn!â he howled in a gay sepulchur and slipped on a pair of pastel slacks. He trapsed to the threshold of his cold abode and grabbed the greasy doorknob that was shaped like Birdman. With a slavish sigh, he opened the door to see none other than Adam Sessler himself! A gay gasp escaped from Chris's dork lips and Adam began to speak. Quickly, Chris snapped at him. âoeDamnit for the last time you vagabond, you're not supposed to be here!â The revolting nerd slammed the door in Adam's face, but the Game Master quickly shoved his iron boot inbetween the door and the wall, wedging it open. âoeI have come for you,â he spoke in a cold tone; electric arcs coursed between the spikes in his cockneyed bleached hair. He howled as a blast of mystic Boohbahs eminated from his busy shirt and slammed Chris down the hall and into a Microsoft Digital Picture Frame. Chris grunted and swiped nerd dust and sheetrock from his arms. He rose to his feet and watched in horror as Adam brandished a weapon made from 3 Xbox controllers tied at the ends. âoeOh my word! Game periferals!â the dork bellowed; the stench of Cheetos and Diet Dr. Pepper wafted from his geek teeth. Instantly his palms began to sweat at the very sight of them, as if the grease from his McGriddle hadn't slicked them up enough. Chris tried to run, but it was too late. Adam swung the weapon above his head and threw it at the King of Nerds, entangling his legs and forcing him to the floor. Adam pulled a cestus made from PS2 DVDs out of his Spice Girls backpack and rushed Chris. He swiped at his turdly back over and over, causing streams of cold blood to squirt from his flesh. âoeOh god, the horror, the HORROR!â Chris moaned as Adam butchered him relentlessly. A old Brit with one eye and a cockneyed accent burst into the room and started kicking Chris in the side. Chris was just about do die when... he rose from his bed. It was just a dream! He laughed and took a sip of more Brawls Guarana, hoping he wouldn't fall asleep again. âoeTime to plot...â he grumbled and shoved yet another pin into his Leo Laporte voodoo doll..
One more crippling bombshell hit the already beleaguered *BSD community when IDC confirmed that *BSD market share has dropped yet again, now down to less than a fraction of 1 percent of all servers. Coming on the heels of a recent Netcraft survey which plainly states that *BSD has lost more market share, this news serves to reinforce what we've known all along. *BSD is collapsing in complete disarray, as fittingly exemplified by failing dead last in the recent Sys Admin comprehensive networking test.
You don't need to be a Kreskin to predict *BSD's future. The hand writing is on the wall: *BSD faces a bleak future. In fact there won't be any future at all for *BSD because *BSD is dying. Things are looking very bad for *BSD. As many of us are already aware, *BSD continues to lose market share. Red ink flows like a river of blood.
FreeBSD is the most endangered of them all, having lost 93% of its core developers. The sudden and unpleasant departures of long time FreeBSD developers Jordan Hubbard and Mike Smith only serve to underscore the point more clearly. There can no longer be any doubt: FreeBSD is dying.
Let's keep to the facts and look at the numbers.
OpenBSD leader Theo states that there are 7000 users of OpenBSD. How many users of NetBSD are there? Let's see. The number of OpenBSD versus NetBSD posts on Usenet is roughly in ratio of 5 to 1. Therefore there are about 7000/5 = 1400 NetBSD users. BSD/OS posts on Usenet are about half of the volume of NetBSD posts. Therefore there are about 700 users of BSD/OS. A recent article put FreeBSD at about 80 percent of the *BSD market. Therefore there are (7000+1400+700)*4 = 36400 FreeBSD users. This is consistent with the number of FreeBSD Usenet posts.
Due to the troubles of Walnut Creek, abysmal sales and so on, FreeBSD went out of business and was taken over by BSDI who sell another troubled OS. Now BSDI is also dead, its corpse turned over to yet another charnel house.
All major surveys show that *BSD has steadily declined in market share. *BSD is very sick and its long term survival prospects are very dim. If *BSD is to survive at all it will be among OS dilettante dabblers. *BSD continues to decay. Nothing short of a miracle could save it at this point in time. For all practical purposes, *BSD is dead.
Fact: *BSD is dying
That's hilarious. Mod that fooker up!!
[ed. note: in the following text, former FreeBSD developer Mike Smith gives his reasons for abandoning FreeBSD]
When I stood for election to the FreeBSD core team nearly two years ago, many of you will recall that it was after a long series of debates during which I maintained that too much organisation, too many rules and too much formality would be a bad thing for the project.
Today, as I read the latest discussions on the future of the FreeBSD project, I see the same problem; a few new faces and many of the old going over the same tired arguments and suggesting variations on the same worthless schemes. Frankly I'm sick of it.
FreeBSD used to be fun. It used to be about doing things the right way. It used to be something that you could sink your teeth into when the mundane chores of programming for a living got you down. It was something cool and exciting; a way to spend your spare time on an endeavour you loved that was at the same time wholesome and worthwhile.
It's not anymore. It's about bylaws and committees and reports and milestones, telling others what to do and doing what you're told. It's about who can rant the longest or shout the loudest or mislead the most people into a bloc in order to legitimise doing what they think is best. Individuals notwithstanding, the project as a whole has lost track of where it's going, and has instead become obsessed with process and mechanics.
So I'm leaving core. I don't want to feel like I should be "doing something" about a project that has lost interest in having something done for it. I don't have the energy to fight what has clearly become a losing battle; I have a life to live and a job to keep, and I won't achieve any of the goals I personally consider worthwhile if I remain obligated to care for the project.
Discussion
I'm sure that I've offended some people already; I'm sure that by the time I'm done here, I'll have offended more. If you feel a need to play to the crowd in your replies rather than make a sincere effort to address the problems I'm discussing here, please do us the courtesy of playing your politics openly.
From a technical perspective, the project faces a set of challenges that significantly outstrips our ability to deliver. Some of the resources that we need to address these challenges are tied up in the fruitless metadiscussions that have raged since we made the mistake of electing officers. Others have left in disgust, or been driven out by the culture of abuse and distraction that has grown up since then. More may well remain available to recruitment, but while the project is busy infighting our chances for successful outreach are sorely diminished.
There's no simple solution to this. For the project to move forward, one or the other of the warring philosophies must win out; either the project returns to its laid-back roots and gets on with the work, or it transforms into a super-organised engineering project and executes a brilliant plan to deliver what, ultimately, we all know we want.
Whatever path is chosen, whatever balance is struck, the choosing and the striking are the important parts. The current indecision and endless conflict are incompatible with any sort of progress.
Trying to dissect the above is far beyond the scope of any parting shot, no matter how distended. All I can really ask of you all is to let go of the minutiae for a moment and take a look at the big picture. What is the ultimate goal here? How can we get there with as little overhead as possible? How would you like to be treated by your fellow travellers?
Shouts
To the Slashdot "BSD is dying" crowd - big deal. Death is part of the cycle; take a look at your soft, pallid bodies and consider that right this very moment, parts of you are dying. See? It's not so bad.
To the bulk of the FreeBSD committerbase and the developer community at large - keep your eyes on the real goals. I
Dear rotten.com, I am unsure if you are aware of the problems that your "Incident with the bird" picture has caused on the popular technology website slashdot (http://slashdot.org).
Many users of this site's messageboards are posting links to http://smoke.rotten.com/bird/ and making text based representations of a bird on a man's penis. Frankly, while I am pro-freedom, this type of photo sickens me. Could you please move the location of the bird page on your site to keep slashdot readers from seeing things that are completeley unrelated to computers and technology? I'm not asking you to remove the content, just to relocate it.
FYI the text representation of the bird is:
*p_e_n_i_s_b_i_r_d_p_e_n_i_s_b_i_r_d_*
p______...___________________________p
e____(_..__`'-.,--,__________________e
n_____'-._'-.__`\a\\_________________n
i_________'.___.'_(|_________________i
s____________7____||_________________s
b___________/___.'_|_________________b
i__________/_.-'__,J_________________i
r_________/_________\________________r
d________||___/______;_______________d
*________||__|_______|_______________*
p________`\__\_______|__/__''\_______p
e__________'._\______/.-`____{}|_____e
n___________/\_`;_.-'_________/______n
i___________\_;(((____.--'\_/________i
s_________.(((_____.-;\______________s
b____.--'`_____,;`'.'-;\_____________b
i_taco's____.'____'._.'\\____________i
r_dick_--'_________|__\_|____________r
d__________________\_\,_/____________d
*p_e_n_i_s_b_i_r_d_p_e_n_i_s_b_i_r_d_*
with a link to the offensive site (http://smoke.rotten.com/bird/) underneath, these "Penis Birds" are posted by Penis Bird Guy, Penis Bird MAN and several other users.
Regards, Andrew J. Tosh
It is official; UN Statistics now confirms: the USA is dying.
One more crippling bombshell hit the already beleaguered USA when president Bush confirmed that their markets have dropped yet again, now down to less than a fraction their value when he began his term. Coming on the heels of a recent UN survey which plainly states that America has lost its way, this news serves to reinforce what we've known all along. America is collapsing in complete disarray, as fittingly exemplified by being the most hated nation in the world.
You don't need to be a foreigner to predict America's future. The hand writing is on the wall: America faces a bleak future. In fact there won't be any future at all for Americans because the USA is dying. Things are looking very bad for America. As many of us are already aware, as the American economy continues to collapse.
Red ink flows like a river of blood. For all practical purposes, all Americans are dead, or at least should be.
Dear rotten.com, I am unsure if you are aware of the problems that your "Incident with the bird" picture has caused on the popular technology website slashdot (http://slashdot.org).
Many users of this site's messageboards are posting links to http://smoke.rotten.com/bird/ and making text based representations of a bird on a man's penis. Frankly, while I am pro-freedom, this type of photo sickens me. Could you please move the location of the bird page on your site to keep slashdot readers from seeing things that are completeley unrelated to computers and technology? I'm not asking you to remove the content, just to relocate it.
FYI the text representation of the bird is:
*p_e_n_i_s_b_i_r_d_p_e_n_i_s_b_i_r_d_*
p______...___________________________p
e____(_..__`'-.,--,__________________e
n_____'-._'-.__`\a\\_________________n
i_________'.___.'_(|_________________i
s____________7____||_________________s
b___________/___.'_|_________________b
i__________/_.-'__,J_________________i
r_________/_________\________________r
d________||___/______;_______________d
*________||__|_______|_______________*
p________`\__\_______|__/__''\_______p
e__________'._\______/.-`____{}|_____e
n___________/\_`;_.-'_________/______n
i___________\_;(((____.--'\_/________i
s_________.(((_____.-;\______________s
b____.--'`_____,;`'.'-;\_____________b
i_taco's____.'____'._.'\\____________i
r_dick_--'_________|__\_|____________r
d__________________\_\,_/____________d
*p_e_n_i_s_b_i_r_d_p_e_n_i_s_b_i_r_d_*
with a link to the offensive site (http://smoke.rotten.com/bird/) underneath, these "Penis Birds" are posted by Penis Bird Guy, Penis Bird MAN and several other users.
Regards, Andrew J. Tosh
Things you can do:
Be old
Get stuck in a 5 mile long no passing zone behind a BHOL doing 25
Sink in a swamp
Get rained on... a lot
Florida
With a median age somewhere in the mesozoic, why would we care about these dagblasted calculator laws?
--- As to make my comment seem, by comparison, more intelegent... doodie doodie doodie poop poop poop!
Dad: I have nipples, Greg, could you milk me?
The UCITA is a wick pissa! Keep that lawr outta haaavaaad yaaaad!