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SliMP3 Successor; Radio Station in a Box
XDG writes "Slim Devices just updated their website and announced The Squeezebox, the Wi-Fi successor to the SliMP3 player. The new hardware adds digital output, support for uncompressed WAVs, and, of course built-in 802.11. And, best of all, it's still a simple front end hardware device running on upgradeable, customizable, 100%-open-source server software. Anyone that owns or ever drooled over a SliMP3 has something new for their holiday wish lists!" We also have a submission about a "digital radio station in a box" from World Vibrations.
Take this you cocksmoking teabaggers...
Ladies and gentlemen of the supposed jury, I have one final thing I want you to consider: (pulling down a diagram) this is Chewbacca. Chewbacca is a Wookiee from the planet Kashyyyk, but Chewbacca lives on the planet Endor. Now, think about that. That does not make sense!
Why would a Wookiee - an eight foot tall Wookiee - want to live on Endor with a bunch of two foot tall Ewoks? That does not make sense!
But more importantly, you have to ask yourself: what does that have to do with this case? Nothing. Ladies and gentlemen, it has nothing to do with this case! It does not make sense!
Look at me, I'm a lawyer defending a major record company, and I'm talkin' about Chewbacca. Does that make sense? Ladies and gentlemen, I am not making any sense. None of this makes sense.
And so you have to remember, when you're in that jury room deliberating and conjugating the Emancipation Proclamation - does it make sense? No! Ladies and gentlemen of this supposed jury, it does not make sense.
If Chewbacca lives on Endor, you must acquit! The defense rests.
There was nowhere to sit. Well there was one place to sit; it just didn't look like a good place. The man on the end was obese and the guy against the window did not look friendly at all. He was scratching out letters into the daily crossword and he had earbuds connected to a radio, no doubt listening to Howard Stern. Shannon looked at the available seat again and meekly asked the obese man to get up so she and all of her gear could get in to the only seat left.
Big day today, Shannon reminded herself as she slipped her thin body past the obese man. Oh my god, was that his thing? He'd stretched his hips out to "accidentally" bump into her as she got past him. As she sat with her bag on her lap her practice clarinet, a long plastic tube that looked like a clarinet but made no sound, slid out of the bag onto the surly looking man against the window. With out even looking up he handed it back to Shannon. As she sat she noticed him looking at her.
With a shot at the pit orchestra for the play 42nd street Shannon had dressed a little funkier than she would for her usual job, teaching woodwinds to eighth graders. Today her skirt was shorter, and faded denim. Her shirt was a snug metallic material with a plain white men's Oxford over it. It was the boots that made the outfit funky though. They were obligatorily black but they had a tongue frontispiece and a large buckled strap across the calf. The heels were the chunky kind all the girls were wearing now. Her red hair was tussled as always and she tried leaving her schoolmarm glasses home but several near misses with walls changed her mind. She decided not to wear any stockings and her pale freckled skin contrasted with her black boots.
The surly man leaned forward so far that his head was against the back of the seat in front of him. He kept looking at her boots. It was odd for Shannon to receive attention like this. It made her feel uncomfortable, but at the same time it felt good. The attention was defraying the guilt she felt spending 150USD on the boots. She tugged at her skirt, but not to pull it down, to pull it up. She watched his eyes wander up her thighs.
No one at Branford Middle School had given her such lecherous looks before. He pulled his right ear bud out of his ear and smiled. Mr. Surly looked like Mr. GQ now. Shannon felt a wave of intense warmth flush her body. In 33 years a smile had never done that to her. Life in conservative Connecticut simply wasn't like that. Even in the rougher middle class sections she grew up in as her father moved from military contract job to the next. Certainly she'd dated, even seriously but her love of music always won out over the men in her life.
"So you play clarinet?"
Shannon was dumbstruck, unable to talk to the beautiful man speaking to her. She regained most of her composure and managed to utter, "I teach."
"I used to teach music, guitar though. Mostly to boys who wanted to be Jimmy Page," he added with another perfect smile.
Shannon unconsciously stroked her smooth plastic clarinet. He noticed.
"What sends you to Manhattan?"
"I, I am going to an audition for an orchestra pit."
"What do you like about woodwinds so much?"
He wasn't even touching her but she was getting the oddest urges. She wanted to grab him by the face and kiss him with her deft tongue. She wanted touch him; it was becoming an imperative for her. There was another hour and a half left in the train ride to Penn Station. The words slipped out of her mouth as if she was no longer in control of what she said.
"I just like having a vibrating reed on my lips, in my wet mouth," she said leaning towards him. She shifted her weight onto her left hip and crossed her right leg over her left trying to quell the urgent feeling between her legs. More of her thighs were revealed to him. The sudden brushes of the obese man's arm on her ass made her gasp in a breathy inhale.
"Really?" Asked the man driving Shannon insane.
"There's something about the wa
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Well I must admit that the base VIA C3 hardware is very stable. I've been running some as smal l servers and it works well. Also XP isn't that bad and only needs to occasional reboot when things stop working
Rus
Cheap UK and US VPS
This is indeed, a dark, dark, dark day for the world.
Too bad GWB cancelled his speech at the parliament. That would have been a humiliation of the century and I was quite look forward to it.
Michael Sims, Domain Hijacking and Moral Equivalency by Jonathan Wallace jw@bway.net
How would you feel if your webmaster maliciously took your web-site offline, then, when you demanded its return, put up a site attacking your company at your old URL? It happened to a group I was involved in, the Censorware Project, currently at http://www.censorware.net. The purpose of this essay is to put the behavior on record, and to give you some impressions and inferences about it.
The Censorware Project was originally an informal collective of six people who collaborated online to fight censorware: Seth Finkelstein, Bennett Haselton, Jamie McCarthy, Mike Sims, Jim Tyre and myself. Several of us had never met or even spoken on the phone, yet for some time -- around two years as I recall -- we had a remarkably easy collaboration. There was no funding, no hierarchy, no titles, not even project managers. Someone would suggest a project and take the responsibility for a part of it, others would sign up for other elements, and proceeding this way we got a remarkable amount of work done, including reports on X-Stop, Cyberpatrol, Bess and other censorware products.
Even though two of us were attorneys -- Jim and myself -- we never incorporated the group or wrote a charter or any contracts among ourselves. Mike Sims was obliging enough to register the domain, just as other members paid for press releases and the other incidental expenses which came along. Mike also served as webmaster of the censorware.org site and did substantial work for the group, including writing contributions to several of the reports and lead authorship of at least one. Seth was the source of our decrypted censorware blacklists and managed many technical tasks, but later felt he had to leave the group because of the increasing prospects of a lawsuit, particularly under the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA). After Seth left the group, the remaining five continued.
Robert Frost said that "nothing gold can stay," and the Censorware Project was no exception. Over the summer of 2000, Mike Sims' reaction to a perceived slight from Jim Tyre was to take the site down for a week. He sent us mail at the time saying something like "The Censorware Project is now closed." I replied to him that, given that the group was a collective and we all had an interest in its work product, the domain, and the goodwill it had achieved, the decision was not his to make. Sims did not reply.
After Seth created a partial, text, mirror, Mike put the site back up a week later without explaining, let alone apologizing for, his actions. Given his continuing failure to answer any email from me (and I think from others) and the overall signs that Sims thought the group was exclusively his, I wrote him several emails requesting that he turn the domain over to Jamie or Bennett, as I felt we could no longer trust him to administer it. We also found out during that time that important email from people trying to contact us, including members of the press, was not being answered by Sims, nor being forwarded to other members.
I ultimately became exasperated that my name was listed as a principal on what had now become a "rogue" site I had no control over. Over about a five week period, I wrote Sims several more emails asking him to del