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UK Music Fans Can Copy Own Tracks
An anonymous reader writes "BBC news is reporting that music fans in the UK won't have to fear litigation from the British Phonographic Industry. Peter Jamieson, chairman of the British Phonographic Industry, said 'consumers would only be penalized if they made duplicates of songs for other people.'" From the article: "Mr Jamieson also called for Apple - which makes the popular iPod portable music player - to open up its iTunes software so it is compatible with the technology of other manufacturers. Apple applies a digital protection system to its downloads, which means they are not usually compatible with other companies' devices. "
Eric had been driving through Pennsylvania since dusk and had crossed into Ohio about two hours ago. It was 2 AM and pitch black outside as he approached Columbus. He flicked the ash from his Marlboro Light out his cracked window and mopped a greasy swatch of orange-brown hair back across his forehead. He hadn't stopped to eat, drink, or relieve himself since he'd left Malvern and the strain of the road was getting to him. With a gulp of cold coffee and one last puff from his cigarette he rolled his window up and refocused.
His eyes glanced over the console on their way back up to his dirty windshield, and to Eric's chagrin the gas needle was hovering just above E, shimmying ever so slightly as his Omni wiggled and jammed down the highway. He began scanning the horizon for travel plazas where he could buy gas and freshen up for the next third of his journey. It wasn't long before he saw Exit 122 and soon after a sign for a Flying J Travel Plaza. Eric exited I-70 quickly, anxious for a break.
After pulling up next to a pump, Eric dragged himself out of his car and waited with the gas nozzle in hand, just in case of a backfire, as his Omni usually shuttered for a minute or so after he'd shut it off. Finally jamming the nozzle into the hole, Eric smiled as he envisioned a steamy hot shower. After that he would indulge in the luxury of a late-night truck-stop feast. ESR tapped his foot as he waited for the pump to start. Half a second later, he almost had a heart attack.
Sir, all of our pumps are now prepay and you'll have to come inside to pay before you can pump your gas, an unseen speaker blared at him.
Startled, Eric jumped back, dropped the nozzle on the ground, and bumped the Omni's gas door shut with his ass. His heart beat furiously and he trembled uncontrollably. Heeding the cashier's friendly greeting, Eric picked the nozzle up and shoved it back in its holster and made his way to the store's entrance. He was not pleased with having to prepay, not pleased at all. And he intended to share this with the clerk. He marched up to the front checkout and drew himself up to his whole 5'6 and glared.
Do you know who I am? Eric demanded, his voice like a teapot about to blow its top.
The cashier, a lean young man of about 20 with longish dark hair pulled back in a pony tail with three days of stubble and sky-blue eyes, looked at him and stifled a chuckle. No, he said. I don't.
Well that's your first mistake, Eric said before he paused to look at the clerk's name-tag, Shawn.
Shawn bit his cheeks to keep from smiling and made direct eye contact with Eric -- or tried to, since Eric's eyes were all over the place at this late hour. I'm sorry about that, sir. What can I help you with tonight? he asked.
You can start by putting thirty five dollars in gas on pump thirteen, Eric said. And then I'll take three of these motor oils, five of those bottles of trucker pills, and one of your hot showers in the back, he finished, grabbing and throwing the items on the counter.
Ringing, Shawn watched to make sure Eric didn't pack anything in his pockets during the sale.
Will this be cash or credit? Shawn asked.
Credit, Eric answered with gusto. On my VA Software credit card!
Eric produced a blue credit card with the familiar Tux penguin logo in the right hand corner and gave it to Shawn. He stared at the ground and tapped his foot while the transaction went through. He yawned and looked off into the distance at the showers, where he would soon bathe himself after days of sweaty travail. That last eight hours of driving had really clenched the odor. Eric idly noticed one of the doors had a Linux sticker on it and smiled, bemused. He'd take that room for luck.
Just sign here, Shawn said after handing Eric his card, a receipt, and a cheap pen. Would you like a bag?
No, no, no, no bag tonight, Eric said as he signed the receipt and gathered his purchases up in his arms and began hobbling toward the door.
Sir, wait up! Shawn called afte