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SCO Terminates IBM's Unix License
AKAImBatman writes "SCO has terminated IBM's license to use Unix code. SCO is filing for an injunction that will require IBM to cease all sale of AIX as well as accrue damages for each day IBM continues to sell AIX."
fp
sucks balls....how damn petty....
i fail it and sco sucks.
Sorry, do SCO say IBM have done something bad? Has anything relating to this been reported on Slashdot before?
According to many a lawyer everywhere, judges are just the loser lawyers that made terrible grades in law school and generally suck as human beings, being that they sit up on their high chair and dispense justice. From what I've seen, it's very true. It's not so much the lawyers being asses that screws up our justice system, it's the judges "on retainer" by companies, and the just plain incompetent ones that are screwing up the justice system. Be afraid, be very afraid.
So, when SCO sues Microsoft over DR-DOS (and wins), they are raised on a pedestal and praised by the slashdot geeks. But when they have a more substantial claim against IBM and Linux, they suddenly become a "leading provider of frivolous lawsuits"???
If you purchase software, and you accept the license (usually by opening the shrinkwrap or the CD case), you are bound to all its terms. The EULA is an agreement between you and the publisher of the software. If you then go and violate the terms of the EULA, then the publisher has the right to terminate the agreement, insist you immediately cease use of the software, and demand you destroy all copies of the unlicensed software. Such is the nature of any license agreement, be it with an end-user or another business. No responsible copyright holder would waive this right in the case of the terms of the license agreement being violated.
If you believe the legal system is honest, go short SCO.
If you're not so sure about the legal system, go long.
Personally, I suspect SCO's hired gun David Boies:
As federal prosecutor against Microsoft played both sides
Used (laundered) Microsoft money as a payoff in January 2001, to lose government's the case after it had already been won (good trick, though not unique)
Specifically paid U.S. District Judge Thomas Penfield Jackson with a bevy of pink, nubile 8-year old boys (or equivalent)
Has more than enough cash, kidnapped children (or equivalent) on hand to buy off any U.S. District Judge in the SCO case
Indications are that Boies has already purchased the Supervising Judge, the one who picks the Judge for the circus^H^H^H^H^H^H^Htrial, and IBM's actions seem to indicate that they are having problems getting to a higher-placed Judge (known as 'buying an honest judge' in the trade).
When I think of dirty old men, I think of Darl McBride and when I think about Darl I get a hard on that won't quit.
."
."
."
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.
Darl always looked like he was three days from a shave and his whiskers were dirty white under the brim of his battered felt fedora.
He did nott 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.
Old Darl, he 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 man winked at me. Darl McBride 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 Darl, "I just love jumping men. .
"I'll bet you do."
". . . and grabbing on to their peckers," said Darl.
"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." Darl lifted his right leg and let go another tremendous fart. "He said, "We best be getting to work."
That summer of1941 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 browwn as a berry. On only his second day on the job and in the middle of August, Darl wore old fashioned overalls. Those and socks in his hightop 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!" Darl licked his lips from corner to corner then stuck it out far enough that the tip could touch the tip 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 Darl's willing to let you find out."
"No way."
"Just teasing," said Darl. "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?"
"Curiousity, maybe. I'm guessing you never had a good piece of man ass."
"I'm no queer."
"Now don't be getting judgemental. Enjoying what's at hand ain't being queer. It's taking pleasure where you find it with anybody willing." Darl slipped a handside 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.
Darl winked. "Care to be asshole buddies?"
***
We worked steadily until noon. Darl 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 Darl 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