Slashdot Mirror
Judge Rejects $324.5 Million Settlement For Tech Workers, Argues For More
An anonymous reader writes with this news from Reuters: A U.S. district judge on Friday ruled that the $324.5 million settlement negotiated by Apple, Google, Intel, and Adobe with the tech workers who brought an antitrust lawsuit against them was too low. The judge cited the settlement amount of a similar lawsuit brought against Disney and Intuit last year which resulted in plaintiffs obtaining proportionally more for lost wages. And yet, according to the judge, the current plaintiffs have "much more leverage". She cited evidence clearly showing Apple's Steve Jobs strong-arming the other companies in the suit into agreeing to a no-employee-poaching agreement, and in one instance, of Google failing to rope in Facebook into a similar agreement which resulted in a 10% increase of all Google employee salaries. In other words, clear evidence that the no-poaching agreement effectively suppressed the salaries of these companies' tech workers. Another hearing is scheduled for September 10.
-----------
Ah, the turning point in my life. I remember it clearly. It all started on September 7, 2001.
I was fiddling around on my computer and visiting various news websites, as I often did. Eventually, I stumbled across an advertisement that looked interesting, so I clicked it. A popup from some antivirus program I didn't know I had made me realize that I had made a grave mistake. I may not have known much about computers, but I knew that that wasn't normal; it was malware.
"Alright," I muttered. "This is no problem. I'll just use some antivirus tools to get rid of the virus." I said. But I was horribly, horribly wrong. The virus was unstoppable, and even the most advanced antivirus software could not remove it. Even completely wiping the hard drive and reinstalling the operating system did not remove it! I screamed at the top of my lungs in frustration, but eventually calmed down. "It's alright. I'll just take it to a PC repair shop!"
So, I drove to a nearby PC repair shop that claimed it only hired experienced professionals. Once I entered the expertly-crafted building, four kind gentlemen greeted me; I described my problem to them, they nodded their heads, and they sent me off with a smile on their faces. I had a good feeling about their abilities at the time. I drove back home feeling happy, knowing that my computer was in the hands of professionals. How wrong I was...
On September 11, I received a call from the repair shop. I went to answer the phone, and when I did, all I heard from the other end was unintelligible screaming, and someone weeping. Then, finally, I heard someone whisper, "Come pick up your computer." After that, he hung up. "Why did he sound like a pathetic animal that knows its death is at hand?" I thought. But I concluded that it was probably nothing more than a new hip way for repair shops to tell their customers that the repairs are finished.
I drove to the repair shop once again, eager to pick up my computer. I entered the building, and immediately noticed that it looked completely different from its former self; blood was splattered everywhere, and it looked like a tornado had gone through it. Random objects were scattered about. I began looking for my computer, and spotted one of the repair guys in the middle of the room, huddled up in the fetal position. I inexplicably vomited soon after spotting him. Then, I ran up to him, shook him around, and screamed, "Where is it!? Where is my computer!?"
The man looked at me with tears in his eyes, and started explaining exactly what happened. He told me that the virus was so monstrous that nothing they could do would fix it; even reinstalling the OS did not work. He also said it had the ability to infect computers around it. He went on to explain how one of his employees committed suicide due to the shame he felt for not being able to remove the virus. What became of the other two? Apparently, they went completely insane, hijacked two planes, and flew the planes into some famous buildings. After his explanation was over, and after he pointed out the location of my computer, I knew why I had vomited; this man was exerting an aura of worthlessness so powerful that it was capable of overwhelming anyone. His worthlessness was such that he poisoned everything around him, causing various negative effects on those within his immediate vicinity. I vomited again.
I glared at the man, who was now crawling out of the building and weeping. I watched as he crawled all the way out into the road, and spotted an incoming semi-truck. Even though the driver clearly saw the man in the middle of the lane, he did not stop; after all, the man was so utterly worthless that you could tell just how devoid of meaning his existence was with a mere glance, so the driver probably felt the need to put that pitiful man out of his misery. The truck mercilessly collided with the worthless hunk of meat, and ended his disgusting existence. But even that was not enough to remove his toxic influence on everything around him; his body
-----------
Ah, the turning point in my life. I remember it clearly. It all started on September 7, 2001.
I was fiddling around on my computer and visiting various news websites, as I often did. Eventually, I stumbled across an advertisement that looked interesting, so I clicked it. A popup from some antivirus program I didn't know I had made me realize that I had made a grave mistake. I may not have known much about computers, but I knew that that wasn't normal; it was malware.
"Alright," I muttered. "This is no problem. I'll just use some antivirus tools to get rid of the virus." I said. But I was horribly, horribly wrong. The virus was unstoppable, and even the most advanced antivirus software could not remove it. Even completely wiping the hard drive and reinstalling the operating system did not remove it! I screamed at the top of my lungs in frustration, but eventually calmed down. "It's alright. I'll just take it to a PC repair shop!"
So, I drove to a nearby PC repair shop that claimed it only hired experienced professionals. Once I entered the expertly-crafted building, four kind gentlemen greeted me; I described my problem to them, they nodded their heads, and they sent me off with a smile on their faces. I had a good feeling about their abilities at the time. I drove back home feeling happy, knowing that my computer was in the hands of professionals. How wrong I was...
On September 11, I received a call from the repair shop. I went to answer the phone, and when I did, all I heard from the other end was unintelligible screaming, and someone weeping. Then, finally, I heard someone whisper, "Come pick up your computer." After that, he hung up. "Why did he sound like a pathetic animal that knows its death is at hand?" I thought. But I concluded that it was probably nothing more than a new hip way for repair shops to tell their customers that the repairs are finished.
I drove to the repair shop once again, eager to pick up my computer. I entered the building, and immediately noticed that it looked completely different from its former self; blood was splattered everywhere, and it looked like a tornado had gone through it. Random objects were scattered about. I began looking for my computer, and spotted one of the repair guys in the middle of the room, huddled up in the fetal position. I inexplicably vomited soon after spotting him. Then, I ran up to him, shook him around, and screamed, "Where is it!? Where is my computer!?"
The man looked at me with tears in his eyes, and started explaining exactly what happened. He told me that the virus was so monstrous that nothing they could do would fix it; even reinstalling the OS did not work. He also said it had the ability to infect computers around it. He went on to explain how one of his employees committed suicide due to the shame he felt for not being able to remove the virus. What became of the other two? Apparently, they went completely insane, hijacked two planes, and flew the planes into some famous buildings. After his explanation was over, and after he pointed out the location of my computer, I knew why I had vomited; this man was exerting an aura of worthlessness so powerful that it was capable of overwhelming anyone. His worthlessness was such that he poisoned everything around him, causing various negative effects on those within his immediate vicinity. I vomited again.
I glared at the man, who was now crawling out of the building and weeping. I watched as he crawled all the way out into the road, and spotted an incoming semi-truck. Even though the driver clearly saw the man in the middle of the lane, he did not stop; after all, the man was so utterly worthless that you could tell just how devoid of meaning his existence was with a mere glance, so the driver probably felt the need to put that pitiful man out of his misery. The truck mercilessly collided with the worthless hunk of meat, and ended his disgusting existence. But even that was not enough to remove his toxic influence on everything around him; his body
-----------
Ah, the turning point in my life. I remember it clearly. It all started on September 7, 2001.
I was fiddling around on my computer and visiting various news websites, as I often did. Eventually, I stumbled across an advertisement that looked interesting, so I clicked it. A popup from some antivirus program I didn't know I had made me realize that I had made a grave mistake. I may not have known much about computers, but I knew that that wasn't normal; it was malware.
"Alright," I muttered. "This is no problem. I'll just use some antivirus tools to get rid of the virus." I said. But I was horribly, horribly wrong. The virus was unstoppable, and even the most advanced antivirus software could not remove it. Even completely wiping the hard drive and reinstalling the operating system did not remove it! I screamed at the top of my lungs in frustration, but eventually calmed down. "It's alright. I'll just take it to a PC repair shop!"
So, I drove to a nearby PC repair shop that claimed it only hired experienced professionals. Once I entered the expertly-crafted building, four kind gentlemen greeted me; I described my problem to them, they nodded their heads, and they sent me off with a smile on their faces. I had a good feeling about their abilities at the time. I drove back home feeling happy, knowing that my computer was in the hands of professionals. How wrong I was...
On September 11, I received a call from the repair shop. I went to answer the phone, and when I did, all I heard from the other end was unintelligible screaming, and someone weeping. Then, finally, I heard someone whisper, "Come pick up your computer." After that, he hung up. "Why did he sound like a pathetic animal that knows its death is at hand?" I thought. But I concluded that it was probably nothing more than a new hip way for repair shops to tell their customers that the repairs are finished.
I drove to the repair shop once again, eager to pick up my computer. I entered the building, and immediately noticed that it looked completely different from its former self; blood was splattered everywhere, and it looked like a tornado had gone through it. Random objects were scattered about. I began looking for my computer, and spotted one of the repair guys in the middle of the room, huddled up in the fetal position. I inexplicably vomited soon after spotting him. Then, I ran up to him, shook him around, and screamed, "Where is it!? Where is my computer!?"
The man looked at me with tears in his eyes, and started explaining exactly what happened. He told me that the virus was so monstrous that nothing they could do would fix it; even reinstalling the OS did not work. He also said it had the ability to infect computers around it. He went on to explain how one of his employees committed suicide due to the shame he felt for not being able to remove the virus. What became of the other two? Apparently, they went completely insane, hijacked two planes, and flew the planes into some famous buildings. After his explanation was over, and after he pointed out the location of my computer, I knew why I had vomited; this man was exerting an aura of worthlessness so powerful that it was capable of overwhelming anyone. His worthlessness was such that he poisoned everything around him, causing various negative effects on those within his immediate vicinity. I vomited again.
I glared at the man, who was now crawling out of the building and weeping. I watched as he crawled all the way out into the road, and spotted an incoming semi-truck. Even though the driver clearly saw the man in the middle of the lane, he did not stop; after all, the man was so utterly worthless that you could tell just how devoid of meaning his existence was with a mere glance, so the driver probably felt the need to put that pitiful man out of his misery. The truck mercilessly collided with the worthless hunk of meat, and ended his disgusting existence. But even that was not enough to remove his toxic influence on everything around him; his body
-----------
Ah, the turning point in my life. I remember it clearly. It all started on September 7, 2001.
I was fiddling around on my computer and visiting various news websites, as I often did. Eventually, I stumbled across an advertisement that looked interesting, so I clicked it. A popup from some antivirus program I didn't know I had made me realize that I had made a grave mistake. I may not have known much about computers, but I knew that that wasn't normal; it was malware.
"Alright," I muttered. "This is no problem. I'll just use some antivirus tools to get rid of the virus." I said. But I was horribly, horribly wrong. The virus was unstoppable, and even the most advanced antivirus software could not remove it. Even completely wiping the hard drive and reinstalling the operating system did not remove it! I screamed at the top of my lungs in frustration, but eventually calmed down. "It's alright. I'll just take it to a PC repair shop!"
So, I drove to a nearby PC repair shop that claimed it only hired experienced professionals. Once I entered the expertly-crafted building, four kind gentlemen greeted me; I described my problem to them, they nodded their heads, and they sent me off with a smile on their faces. I had a good feeling about their abilities at the time. I drove back home feeling happy, knowing that my computer was in the hands of professionals. How wrong I was...
On September 11, I received a call from the repair shop. I went to answer the phone, and when I did, all I heard from the other end was unintelligible screaming, and someone weeping. Then, finally, I heard someone whisper, "Come pick up your computer." After that, he hung up. "Why did he sound like a pathetic animal that knows its death is at hand?" I thought. But I concluded that it was probably nothing more than a new hip way for repair shops to tell their customers that the repairs are finished.
I drove to the repair shop once again, eager to pick up my computer. I entered the building, and immediately noticed that it looked completely different from its former self; blood was splattered everywhere, and it looked like a tornado had gone through it. Random objects were scattered about. I began looking for my computer, and spotted one of the repair guys in the middle of the room, huddled up in the fetal position. I inexplicably vomited soon after spotting him. Then, I ran up to him, shook him around, and screamed, "Where is it!? Where is my computer!?"
The man looked at me with tears in his eyes, and started explaining exactly what happened. He told me that the virus was so monstrous that nothing they could do would fix it; even reinstalling the OS did not work. He also said it had the ability to infect computers around it. He went on to explain how one of his employees committed suicide due to the shame he felt for not being able to remove the virus. What became of the other two? Apparently, they went completely insane, hijacked two planes, and flew the planes into some famous buildings. After his explanation was over, and after he pointed out the location of my computer, I knew why I had vomited; this man was exerting an aura of worthlessness so powerful that it was capable of overwhelming anyone. His worthlessness was such that he poisoned everything around him, causing various negative effects on those within his immediate vicinity. I vomited again.
I glared at the man, who was now crawling out of the building and weeping. I watched as he crawled all the way out into the road, and spotted an incoming semi-truck. Even though the driver clearly saw the man in the middle of the lane, he did not stop; after all, the man was so utterly worthless that you could tell just how devoid of meaning his existence was with a mere glance, so the driver probably felt the need to put that pitiful man out of his misery. The truck mercilessly collided with the worthless hunk of meat, and ended his disgusting existence. But even that was not enough to remove his toxic influence on everything around him; his body
-----------
Ah, the turning point in my life. I remember it clearly. It all started on September 7, 2001.
I was fiddling around on my computer and visiting various news websites, as I often did. Eventually, I stumbled across an advertisement that looked interesting, so I clicked it. A popup from some antivirus program I didn't know I had made me realize that I had made a grave mistake. I may not have known much about computers, but I knew that that wasn't normal; it was malware.
"Alright," I muttered. "This is no problem. I'll just use some antivirus tools to get rid of the virus." I said. But I was horribly, horribly wrong. The virus was unstoppable, and even the most advanced antivirus software could not remove it. Even completely wiping the hard drive and reinstalling the operating system did not remove it! I screamed at the top of my lungs in frustration, but eventually calmed down. "It's alright. I'll just take it to a PC repair shop!"
So, I drove to a nearby PC repair shop that claimed it only hired experienced professionals. Once I entered the expertly-crafted building, four kind gentlemen greeted me; I described my problem to them, they nodded their heads, and they sent me off with a smile on their faces. I had a good feeling about their abilities at the time. I drove back home feeling happy, knowing that my computer was in the hands of professionals. How wrong I was...
On September 11, I received a call from the repair shop. I went to answer the phone, and when I did, all I heard from the other end was unintelligible screaming, and someone weeping. Then, finally, I heard someone whisper, "Come pick up your computer." After that, he hung up. "Why did he sound like a pathetic animal that knows its death is at hand?" I thought. But I concluded that it was probably nothing more than a new hip way for repair shops to tell their customers that the repairs are finished.
I drove to the repair shop once again, eager to pick up my computer. I entered the building, and immediately noticed that it looked completely different from its former self; blood was splattered everywhere, and it looked like a tornado had gone through it. Random objects were scattered about. I began looking for my computer, and spotted one of the repair guys in the middle of the room, huddled up in the fetal position. I inexplicably vomited soon after spotting him. Then, I ran up to him, shook him around, and screamed, "Where is it!? Where is my computer!?"
The man looked at me with tears in his eyes, and started explaining exactly what happened. He told me that the virus was so monstrous that nothing they could do would fix it; even reinstalling the OS did not work. He also said it had the ability to infect computers around it. He went on to explain how one of his employees committed suicide due to the shame he felt for not being able to remove the virus. What became of the other two? Apparently, they went completely insane, hijacked two planes, and flew the planes into some famous buildings. After his explanation was over, and after he pointed out the location of my computer, I knew why I had vomited; this man was exerting an aura of worthlessness so powerful that it was capable of overwhelming anyone. His worthlessness was such that he poisoned everything around him, causing various negative effects on those within his immediate vicinity. I vomited again.
I glared at the man, who was now crawling out of the building and weeping. I watched as he crawled all the way out into the road, and spotted an incoming semi-truck. Even though the driver clearly saw the man in the middle of the lane, he did not stop; after all, the man was so utterly worthless that you could tell just how devoid of meaning his existence was with a mere glance, so the driver probably felt the need to put that pitiful man out of his misery. The truck mercilessly collided with the worthless hunk of meat, and ended his disgusting existence. But even that was not enough to remove his toxic influence on everything around him; his body
-----------
Ah, the turning point in my life. I remember it clearly. It all started on September 7, 2001.
I was fiddling around on my computer and visiting various news websites, as I often did. Eventually, I stumbled across an advertisement that looked interesting, so I clicked it. A popup from some antivirus program I didn't know I had made me realize that I had made a grave mistake. I may not have known much about computers, but I knew that that wasn't normal; it was malware.
"Alright," I muttered. "This is no problem. I'll just use some antivirus tools to get rid of the virus." I said. But I was horribly, horribly wrong. The virus was unstoppable, and even the most advanced antivirus software could not remove it. Even completely wiping the hard drive and reinstalling the operating system did not remove it! I screamed at the top of my lungs in frustration, but eventually calmed down. "It's alright. I'll just take it to a PC repair shop!"
So, I drove to a nearby PC repair shop that claimed it only hired experienced professionals. Once I entered the expertly-crafted building, four kind gentlemen greeted me; I described my problem to them, they nodded their heads, and they sent me off with a smile on their faces. I had a good feeling about their abilities at the time. I drove back home feeling happy, knowing that my computer was in the hands of professionals. How wrong I was...
On September 11, I received a call from the repair shop. I went to answer the phone, and when I did, all I heard from the other end was unintelligible screaming, and someone weeping. Then, finally, I heard someone whisper, "Come pick up your computer." After that, he hung up. "Why did he sound like a pathetic animal that knows its death is at hand?" I thought. But I concluded that it was probably nothing more than a new hip way for repair shops to tell their customers that the repairs are finished.
I drove to the repair shop once again, eager to pick up my computer. I entered the building, and immediately noticed that it looked completely different from its former self; blood was splattered everywhere, and it looked like a tornado had gone through it. Random objects were scattered about. I began looking for my computer, and spotted one of the repair guys in the middle of the room, huddled up in the fetal position. I inexplicably vomited soon after spotting him. Then, I ran up to him, shook him around, and screamed, "Where is it!? Where is my computer!?"
The man looked at me with tears in his eyes, and started explaining exactly what happened. He told me that the virus was so monstrous that nothing they could do would fix it; even reinstalling the OS did not work. He also said it had the ability to infect computers around it. He went on to explain how one of his employees committed suicide due to the shame he felt for not being able to remove the virus. What became of the other two? Apparently, they went completely insane, hijacked two planes, and flew the planes into some famous buildings. After his explanation was over, and after he pointed out the location of my computer, I knew why I had vomited; this man was exerting an aura of worthlessness so powerful that it was capable of overwhelming anyone. His worthlessness was such that he poisoned everything around him, causing various negative effects on those within his immediate vicinity. I vomited again.
I glared at the man, who was now crawling out of the building and weeping. I watched as he crawled all the way out into the road, and spotted an incoming semi-truck. Even though the driver clearly saw the man in the middle of the lane, he did not stop; after all, the man was so utterly worthless that you could tell just how devoid of meaning his existence was with a mere glance, so the driver probably felt the need to put that pitiful man out of his misery. The truck mercilessly collided with the worthless hunk of meat, and ended his disgusting existence. But even that was not enough to remove his toxic influence on everything around him; his body
-----------
Ah, the turning point in my life. I remember it clearly. It all started on September 7, 2001.
I was fiddling around on my computer and visiting various news websites, as I often did. Eventually, I stumbled across an advertisement that looked interesting, so I clicked it. A popup from some antivirus program I didn't know I had made me realize that I had made a grave mistake. I may not have known much about computers, but I knew that that wasn't normal; it was malware.
"Alright," I muttered. "This is no problem. I'll just use some antivirus tools to get rid of the virus." I said. But I was horribly, horribly wrong. The virus was unstoppable, and even the most advanced antivirus software could not remove it. Even completely wiping the hard drive and reinstalling the operating system did not remove it! I screamed at the top of my lungs in frustration, but eventually calmed down. "It's alright. I'll just take it to a PC repair shop!"
So, I drove to a nearby PC repair shop that claimed it only hired experienced professionals. Once I entered the expertly-crafted building, four kind gentlemen greeted me; I described my problem to them, they nodded their heads, and they sent me off with a smile on their faces. I had a good feeling about their abilities at the time. I drove back home feeling happy, knowing that my computer was in the hands of professionals. How wrong I was...
On September 11, I received a call from the repair shop. I went to answer the phone, and when I did, all I heard from the other end was unintelligible screaming, and someone weeping. Then, finally, I heard someone whisper, "Come pick up your computer." After that, he hung up. "Why did he sound like a pathetic animal that knows its death is at hand?" I thought. But I concluded that it was probably nothing more than a new hip way for repair shops to tell their customers that the repairs are finished.
I drove to the repair shop once again, eager to pick up my computer. I entered the building, and immediately noticed that it looked completely different from its former self; blood was splattered everywhere, and it looked like a tornado had gone through it. Random objects were scattered about. I began looking for my computer, and spotted one of the repair guys in the middle of the room, huddled up in the fetal position. I inexplicably vomited soon after spotting him. Then, I ran up to him, shook him around, and screamed, "Where is it!? Where is my computer!?"
The man looked at me with tears in his eyes, and started explaining exactly what happened. He told me that the virus was so monstrous that nothing they could do would fix it; even reinstalling the OS did not work. He also said it had the ability to infect computers around it. He went on to explain how one of his employees committed suicide due to the shame he felt for not being able to remove the virus. What became of the other two? Apparently, they went completely insane, hijacked two planes, and flew the planes into some famous buildings. After his explanation was over, and after he pointed out the location of my computer, I knew why I had vomited; this man was exerting an aura of worthlessness so powerful that it was capable of overwhelming anyone. His worthlessness was such that he poisoned everything around him, causing various negative effects on those within his immediate vicinity. I vomited again.
I glared at the man, who was now crawling out of the building and weeping. I watched as he crawled all the way out into the road, and spotted an incoming semi-truck. Even though the driver clearly saw the man in the middle of the lane, he did not stop; after all, the man was so utterly worthless that you could tell just how devoid of meaning his existence was with a mere glance, so the driver probably felt the need to put that pitiful man out of his misery. The truck mercilessly collided with the worthless hunk of meat, and ended his disgusting existence. But even that was not enough to remove his toxic influence on everything around him; his body
-----------
Ah, the turning point in my life. I remember it clearly. It all started on September 7, 2001.
I was fiddling around on my computer and visiting various news websites, as I often did. Eventually, I stumbled across an advertisement that looked interesting, so I clicked it. A popup from some antivirus program I didn't know I had made me realize that I had made a grave mistake. I may not have known much about computers, but I knew that that wasn't normal; it was malware.
"Alright," I muttered. "This is no problem. I'll just use some antivirus tools to get rid of the virus." I said. But I was horribly, horribly wrong. The virus was unstoppable, and even the most advanced antivirus software could not remove it. Even completely wiping the hard drive and reinstalling the operating system did not remove it! I screamed at the top of my lungs in frustration, but eventually calmed down. "It's alright. I'll just take it to a PC repair shop!"
So, I drove to a nearby PC repair shop that claimed it only hired experienced professionals. Once I entered the expertly-crafted building, four kind gentlemen greeted me; I described my problem to them, they nodded their heads, and they sent me off with a smile on their faces. I had a good feeling about their abilities at the time. I drove back home feeling happy, knowing that my computer was in the hands of professionals. How wrong I was...
On September 11, I received a call from the repair shop. I went to answer the phone, and when I did, all I heard from the other end was unintelligible screaming, and someone weeping. Then, finally, I heard someone whisper, "Come pick up your computer." After that, he hung up. "Why did he sound like a pathetic animal that knows its death is at hand?" I thought. But I concluded that it was probably nothing more than a new hip way for repair shops to tell their customers that the repairs are finished.
I drove to the repair shop once again, eager to pick up my computer. I entered the building, and immediately noticed that it looked completely different from its former self; blood was splattered everywhere, and it looked like a tornado had gone through it. Random objects were scattered about. I began looking for my computer, and spotted one of the repair guys in the middle of the room, huddled up in the fetal position. I inexplicably vomited soon after spotting him. Then, I ran up to him, shook him around, and screamed, "Where is it!? Where is my computer!?"
The man looked at me with tears in his eyes, and started explaining exactly what happened. He told me that the virus was so monstrous that nothing they could do would fix it; even reinstalling the OS did not work. He also said it had the ability to infect computers around it. He went on to explain how one of his employees committed suicide due to the shame he felt for not being able to remove the virus. What became of the other two? Apparently, they went completely insane, hijacked two planes, and flew the planes into some famous buildings. After his explanation was over, and after he pointed out the location of my computer, I knew why I had vomited; this man was exerting an aura of worthlessness so powerful that it was capable of overwhelming anyone. His worthlessness was such that he poisoned everything around him, causing various negative effects on those within his immediate vicinity. I vomited again.
I glared at the man, who was now crawling out of the building and weeping. I watched as he crawled all the way out into the road, and spotted an incoming semi-truck. Even though the driver clearly saw the man in the middle of the lane, he did not stop; after all, the man was so utterly worthless that you could tell just how devoid of meaning his existence was with a mere glance, so the driver probably felt the need to put that pitiful man out of his misery. The truck mercilessly collided with the worthless hunk of meat, and ended his disgusting existence. But even that was not enough to remove his toxic influence on everything around him; his body
-----------
Ah, the turning point in my life. I remember it clearly. It all started on September 7, 2001.
I was fiddling around on my computer and visiting various news websites, as I often did. Eventually, I stumbled across an advertisement that looked interesting, so I clicked it. A popup from some antivirus program I didn't know I had made me realize that I had made a grave mistake. I may not have known much about computers, but I knew that that wasn't normal; it was malware.
"Alright," I muttered. "This is no problem. I'll just use some antivirus tools to get rid of the virus." I said. But I was horribly, horribly wrong. The virus was unstoppable, and even the most advanced antivirus software could not remove it. Even completely wiping the hard drive and reinstalling the operating system did not remove it! I screamed at the top of my lungs in frustration, but eventually calmed down. "It's alright. I'll just take it to a PC repair shop!"
So, I drove to a nearby PC repair shop that claimed it only hired experienced professionals. Once I entered the expertly-crafted building, four kind gentlemen greeted me; I described my problem to them, they nodded their heads, and they sent me off with a smile on their faces. I had a good feeling about their abilities at the time. I drove back home feeling happy, knowing that my computer was in the hands of professionals. How wrong I was...
On September 11, I received a call from the repair shop. I went to answer the phone, and when I did, all I heard from the other end was unintelligible screaming, and someone weeping. Then, finally, I heard someone whisper, "Come pick up your computer." After that, he hung up. "Why did he sound like a pathetic animal that knows its death is at hand?" I thought. But I concluded that it was probably nothing more than a new hip way for repair shops to tell their customers that the repairs are finished.
I drove to the repair shop once again, eager to pick up my computer. I entered the building, and immediately noticed that it looked completely different from its former self; blood was splattered everywhere, and it looked like a tornado had gone through it. Random objects were scattered about. I began looking for my computer, and spotted one of the repair guys in the middle of the room, huddled up in the fetal position. I inexplicably vomited soon after spotting him. Then, I ran up to him, shook him around, and screamed, "Where is it!? Where is my computer!?"
The man looked at me with tears in his eyes, and started explaining exactly what happened. He told me that the virus was so monstrous that nothing they could do would fix it; even reinstalling the OS did not work. He also said it had the ability to infect computers around it. He went on to explain how one of his employees committed suicide due to the shame he felt for not being able to remove the virus. What became of the other two? Apparently, they went completely insane, hijacked two planes, and flew the planes into some famous buildings. After his explanation was over, and after he pointed out the location of my computer, I knew why I had vomited; this man was exerting an aura of worthlessness so powerful that it was capable of overwhelming anyone. His worthlessness was such that he poisoned everything around him, causing various negative effects on those within his immediate vicinity. I vomited again.
I glared at the man, who was now crawling out of the building and weeping. I watched as he crawled all the way out into the road, and spotted an incoming semi-truck. Even though the driver clearly saw the man in the middle of the lane, he did not stop; after all, the man was so utterly worthless that you could tell just how devoid of meaning his existence was with a mere glance, so the driver probably felt the need to put that pitiful man out of his misery. The truck mercilessly collided with the worthless hunk of meat, and ended his disgusting existence. But even that was not enough to remove his toxic influence on everything around him; his body
-----------
Ah, the turning point in my life. I remember it clearly. It all started on September 7, 2001.
I was fiddling around on my computer and visiting various news websites, as I often did. Eventually, I stumbled across an advertisement that looked interesting, so I clicked it. A popup from some antivirus program I didn't know I had made me realize that I had made a grave mistake. I may not have known much about computers, but I knew that that wasn't normal; it was malware.
"Alright," I muttered. "This is no problem. I'll just use some antivirus tools to get rid of the virus." I said. But I was horribly, horribly wrong. The virus was unstoppable, and even the most advanced antivirus software could not remove it. Even completely wiping the hard drive and reinstalling the operating system did not remove it! I screamed at the top of my lungs in frustration, but eventually calmed down. "It's alright. I'll just take it to a PC repair shop!"
So, I drove to a nearby PC repair shop that claimed it only hired experienced professionals. Once I entered the expertly-crafted building, four kind gentlemen greeted me; I described my problem to them, they nodded their heads, and they sent me off with a smile on their faces. I had a good feeling about their abilities at the time. I drove back home feeling happy, knowing that my computer was in the hands of professionals. How wrong I was...
On September 11, I received a call from the repair shop. I went to answer the phone, and when I did, all I heard from the other end was unintelligible screaming, and someone weeping. Then, finally, I heard someone whisper, "Come pick up your computer." After that, he hung up. "Why did he sound like a pathetic animal that knows its death is at hand?" I thought. But I concluded that it was probably nothing more than a new hip way for repair shops to tell their customers that the repairs are finished.
I drove to the repair shop once again, eager to pick up my computer. I entered the building, and immediately noticed that it looked completely different from its former self; blood was splattered everywhere, and it looked like a tornado had gone through it. Random objects were scattered about. I began looking for my computer, and spotted one of the repair guys in the middle of the room, huddled up in the fetal position. I inexplicably vomited soon after spotting him. Then, I ran up to him, shook him around, and screamed, "Where is it!? Where is my computer!?"
The man looked at me with tears in his eyes, and started explaining exactly what happened. He told me that the virus was so monstrous that nothing they could do would fix it; even reinstalling the OS did not work. He also said it had the ability to infect computers around it. He went on to explain how one of his employees committed suicide due to the shame he felt for not being able to remove the virus. What became of the other two? Apparently, they went completely insane, hijacked two planes, and flew the planes into some famous buildings. After his explanation was over, and after he pointed out the location of my computer, I knew why I had vomited; this man was exerting an aura of worthlessness so powerful that it was capable of overwhelming anyone. His worthlessness was such that he poisoned everything around him, causing various negative effects on those within his immediate vicinity. I vomited again.
I glared at the man, who was now crawling out of the building and weeping. I watched as he crawled all the way out into the road, and spotted an incoming semi-truck. Even though the driver clearly saw the man in the middle of the lane, he did not stop; after all, the man was so utterly worthless that you could tell just how devoid of meaning his existence was with a mere glance, so the driver probably felt the need to put that pitiful man out of his misery. The truck mercilessly collided with the worthless hunk of meat, and ended his disgusting existence. But even that was not enough to remove his toxic influence on everything around him; his body
-----------
Ah, the turning point in my life. I remember it clearly. It all started on September 7, 2001.
I was fiddling around on my computer and visiting various news websites, as I often did. Eventually, I stumbled across an advertisement that looked interesting, so I clicked it. A popup from some antivirus program I didn't know I had made me realize that I had made a grave mistake. I may not have known much about computers, but I knew that that wasn't normal; it was malware.
"Alright," I muttered. "This is no problem. I'll just use some antivirus tools to get rid of the virus." I said. But I was horribly, horribly wrong. The virus was unstoppable, and even the most advanced antivirus software could not remove it. Even completely wiping the hard drive and reinstalling the operating system did not remove it! I screamed at the top of my lungs in frustration, but eventually calmed down. "It's alright. I'll just take it to a PC repair shop!"
So, I drove to a nearby PC repair shop that claimed it only hired experienced professionals. Once I entered the expertly-crafted building, four kind gentlemen greeted me; I described my problem to them, they nodded their heads, and they sent me off with a smile on their faces. I had a good feeling about their abilities at the time. I drove back home feeling happy, knowing that my computer was in the hands of professionals. How wrong I was...
On September 11, I received a call from the repair shop. I went to answer the phone, and when I did, all I heard from the other end was unintelligible screaming, and someone weeping. Then, finally, I heard someone whisper, "Come pick up your computer." After that, he hung up. "Why did he sound like a pathetic animal that knows its death is at hand?" I thought. But I concluded that it was probably nothing more than a new hip way for repair shops to tell their customers that the repairs are finished.
I drove to the repair shop once again, eager to pick up my computer. I entered the building, and immediately noticed that it looked completely different from its former self; blood was splattered everywhere, and it looked like a tornado had gone through it. Random objects were scattered about. I began looking for my computer, and spotted one of the repair guys in the middle of the room, huddled up in the fetal position. I inexplicably vomited soon after spotting him. Then, I ran up to him, shook him around, and screamed, "Where is it!? Where is my computer!?"
The man looked at me with tears in his eyes, and started explaining exactly what happened. He told me that the virus was so monstrous that nothing they could do would fix it; even reinstalling the OS did not work. He also said it had the ability to infect computers around it. He went on to explain how one of his employees committed suicide due to the shame he felt for not being able to remove the virus. What became of the other two? Apparently, they went completely insane, hijacked two planes, and flew the planes into some famous buildings. After his explanation was over, and after he pointed out the location of my computer, I knew why I had vomited; this man was exerting an aura of worthlessness so powerful that it was capable of overwhelming anyone. His worthlessness was such that he poisoned everything around him, causing various negative effects on those within his immediate vicinity. I vomited again.
I glared at the man, who was now crawling out of the building and weeping. I watched as he crawled all the way out into the road, and spotted an incoming semi-truck. Even though the driver clearly saw the man in the middle of the lane, he did not stop; after all, the man was so utterly worthless that you could tell just how devoid of meaning his existence was with a mere glance, so the driver probably felt the need to put that pitiful man out of his misery. The truck mercilessly collided with the worthless hunk of meat, and ended his disgusting existence. But even that was not enough to remove his toxic influence on everything around him; his body
-----------
Ah, the turning point in my life. I remember it clearly. It all started on September 7, 2001.
I was fiddling around on my computer and visiting various news websites, as I often did. Eventually, I stumbled across an advertisement that looked interesting, so I clicked it. A popup from some antivirus program I didn't know I had made me realize that I had made a grave mistake. I may not have known much about computers, but I knew that that wasn't normal; it was malware.
"Alright," I muttered. "This is no problem. I'll just use some antivirus tools to get rid of the virus." I said. But I was horribly, horribly wrong. The virus was unstoppable, and even the most advanced antivirus software could not remove it. Even completely wiping the hard drive and reinstalling the operating system did not remove it! I screamed at the top of my lungs in frustration, but eventually calmed down. "It's alright. I'll just take it to a PC repair shop!"
So, I drove to a nearby PC repair shop that claimed it only hired experienced professionals. Once I entered the expertly-crafted building, four kind gentlemen greeted me; I described my problem to them, they nodded their heads, and they sent me off with a smile on their faces. I had a good feeling about their abilities at the time. I drove back home feeling happy, knowing that my computer was in the hands of professionals. How wrong I was...
On September 11, I received a call from the repair shop. I went to answer the phone, and when I did, all I heard from the other end was unintelligible screaming, and someone weeping. Then, finally, I heard someone whisper, "Come pick up your computer." After that, he hung up. "Why did he sound like a pathetic animal that knows its death is at hand?" I thought. But I concluded that it was probably nothing more than a new hip way for repair shops to tell their customers that the repairs are finished.
I drove to the repair shop once again, eager to pick up my computer. I entered the building, and immediately noticed that it looked completely different from its former self; blood was splattered everywhere, and it looked like a tornado had gone through it. Random objects were scattered about. I began looking for my computer, and spotted one of the repair guys in the middle of the room, huddled up in the fetal position. I inexplicably vomited soon after spotting him. Then, I ran up to him, shook him around, and screamed, "Where is it!? Where is my computer!?"
The man looked at me with tears in his eyes, and started explaining exactly what happened. He told me that the virus was so monstrous that nothing they could do would fix it; even reinstalling the OS did not work. He also said it had the ability to infect computers around it. He went on to explain how one of his employees committed suicide due to the shame he felt for not being able to remove the virus. What became of the other two? Apparently, they went completely insane, hijacked two planes, and flew the planes into some famous buildings. After his explanation was over, and after he pointed out the location of my computer, I knew why I had vomited; this man was exerting an aura of worthlessness so powerful that it was capable of overwhelming anyone. His worthlessness was such that he poisoned everything around him, causing various negative effects on those within his immediate vicinity. I vomited again.
I glared at the man, who was now crawling out of the building and weeping. I watched as he crawled all the way out into the road, and spotted an incoming semi-truck. Even though the driver clearly saw the man in the middle of the lane, he did not stop; after all, the man was so utterly worthless that you could tell just how devoid of meaning his existence was with a mere glance, so the driver probably felt the need to put that pitiful man out of his misery. The truck mercilessly collided with the worthless hunk of meat, and ended his disgusting existence. But even that was not enough to remove his toxic influence on everything around him; his body
-----------
Ah, the turning point in my life. I remember it clearly. It all started on September 7, 2001.
I was fiddling around on my computer and visiting various news websites, as I often did. Eventually, I stumbled across an advertisement that looked interesting, so I clicked it. A popup from some antivirus program I didn't know I had made me realize that I had made a grave mistake. I may not have known much about computers, but I knew that that wasn't normal; it was malware.
"Alright," I muttered. "This is no problem. I'll just use some antivirus tools to get rid of the virus." I said. But I was horribly, horribly wrong. The virus was unstoppable, and even the most advanced antivirus software could not remove it. Even completely wiping the hard drive and reinstalling the operating system did not remove it! I screamed at the top of my lungs in frustration, but eventually calmed down. "It's alright. I'll just take it to a PC repair shop!"
So, I drove to a nearby PC repair shop that claimed it only hired experienced professionals. Once I entered the expertly-crafted building, four kind gentlemen greeted me; I described my problem to them, they nodded their heads, and they sent me off with a smile on their faces. I had a good feeling about their abilities at the time. I drove back home feeling happy, knowing that my computer was in the hands of professionals. How wrong I was...
On September 11, I received a call from the repair shop. I went to answer the phone, and when I did, all I heard from the other end was unintelligible screaming, and someone weeping. Then, finally, I heard someone whisper, "Come pick up your computer." After that, he hung up. "Why did he sound like a pathetic animal that knows its death is at hand?" I thought. But I concluded that it was probably nothing more than a new hip way for repair shops to tell their customers that the repairs are finished.
I drove to the repair shop once again, eager to pick up my computer. I entered the building, and immediately noticed that it looked completely different from its former self; blood was splattered everywhere, and it looked like a tornado had gone through it. Random objects were scattered about. I began looking for my computer, and spotted one of the repair guys in the middle of the room, huddled up in the fetal position. I inexplicably vomited soon after spotting him. Then, I ran up to him, shook him around, and screamed, "Where is it!? Where is my computer!?"
The man looked at me with tears in his eyes, and started explaining exactly what happened. He told me that the virus was so monstrous that nothing they could do would fix it; even reinstalling the OS did not work. He also said it had the ability to infect computers around it. He went on to explain how one of his employees committed suicide due to the shame he felt for not being able to remove the virus. What became of the other two? Apparently, they went completely insane, hijacked two planes, and flew the planes into some famous buildings. After his explanation was over, and after he pointed out the location of my computer, I knew why I had vomited; this man was exerting an aura of worthlessness so powerful that it was capable of overwhelming anyone. His worthlessness was such that he poisoned everything around him, causing various negative effects on those within his immediate vicinity. I vomited again.
I glared at the man, who was now crawling out of the building and weeping. I watched as he crawled all the way out into the road, and spotted an incoming semi-truck. Even though the driver clearly saw the man in the middle of the lane, he did not stop; after all, the man was so utterly worthless that you could tell just how devoid of meaning his existence was with a mere glance, so the driver probably felt the need to put that pitiful man out of his misery. The truck mercilessly collided with the worthless hunk of meat, and ended his disgusting existence. But even that was not enough to remove his toxic influence on everything around him; his body
It's funny how people, who are probably pro-union, are so vehemently against companies (people who own and run companies) coming to their own agreements as to who they will hire and fire and not hire, etc. Government has no authority to have any role in any of this, this is an illegal (unconstitutional) power grab by the government and by the courts.
Anybody should be able to come to an agreement with any other willing party to hire or not to hire any specific person, etc. "Freedom sucks", that's what your statement is all about, you think freedom sucks and should be stolen from people.
You can't handle the truth.
"Flamebait"?
Ok, let's look at the statements above:
companies ... exist ... to make money
- Flamebait, I see.
Hiring employees ... when ... the cost of hired labour is lower than the value produced by that labour.
- oh, total Flamebait.
If you make labour cost too high, less of it will be bought
- nightmarish Flamebait.
Hobbies ... can lose money, while businesses can only survive if they make money.
- that's not only a Flamebait, that's probably a Troll.
Labour cost competes with capital cost
- HERESY.
make labour cost too high... means automating or outsourcing the labour
- Oh, humanity, hyper Flamebait.
If everybody was an owner ... the price offered for labour would go up.
- Obvious Troll. Talking about supply and demand curves.
The problem in USA is not that Google and Apple had agreements not to hire from each other, it's that there are so few employers at all
- clearly Flamebait.
and that's a problem of business costs being too high thanks to government rules, taxes, regulations, litigation costs, inflation etc.
- Awful unbelievable Flamebait.
No, you are right, /. moderators, you figured it all out.
You can't handle the truth.
the reason a government exists is to serve the people, not to earn a profit
- wrong. The reason that governments exist is our inertia, laziness and jealousy. Originally governments were all nobility with the power in hand to kill you.
Nobility running amok vs. people wanting to live their lives freer from that type of government is what gave rise to Constitutional monarchy, where nobility could not steal from people and kill people at will, there was finally some laws against that type of abuse.
American Republic was supposed to become a better form of government not by making a bigger government, but by protecting more of the FREEDOMS of individuals, this is the only reason to reform governments - better governance in our progression means freer individuals, which is what allowed USA to become biggest manufacturer and creditor nation on the planet before 1908 (*before politicians figured out how to use all of the wealth generated by that system to start a class warfare that eventually destroyed the most productive economy since the dawn of men*).
Goal of a company is to make profits.
Goal of a politician is to stay in power.
Making profits in a free market capitalist system means providing products and services to the willing market participants.
Staying in power for politicians means building a bigger and bigger army around himself, so that to dominate against other politicians in that version of the Game of Thrones and it has nothing to do with serving people whatsoever. Staying in power means building an army and the people are the ones that are feeding that army through stolen work and through reduced standard of living.
Profits in a free market capitalist society are the most moral goal that can be, since it does not use any coercion, it uses desire of other participants in that economy to trade with the company.
As to slavery, thievery, murder all of those concepts are government concepts first and foremost and in a free market economy people don't need governments to deal with any of it, private courts and private security is enough to deal with aberrations.
You can't handle the truth.
It should be legal to discriminate based on anything. Whether people would do it or not is irrelevant, it should be completely legal. Government making it illegal is an unauthorised power grab, usurpation of power that was not granted to government under USA Constitution.
Would some people discriminate based on race, religion sex? Sure. Would they be rewarded or punished in a free market capitalist system? They would be punished, they would not have access to the best workers (based on their prejudice), they would lose many customers, since there are plenty of people who would not patronise such establishments.
Government does not have authority but it usurped the power to dictate how people are hired and fired. Government has no role in any of it. Employers must be able to hire and fire employees, and the only thing that matters is a contract. Same with employees, if an employee wants to go work to another company and the other company is willing to have him or her, he should be able to, again, subject to the contract between the employee and the employer.
Government has no authority to prevent companies from hiring anybody, domestic or otherwise. The entire concept of national borders is broken. These borders shouldn't be there to prevent people from working. Anybody could come to America 100 years ago and the only thing that they needed to do at the border was register and go right through.
The problem is growth of cancerous government and its destructive welfare system. People feel that their money is stolen from them (they feel this rightfully) in taxes and the welfare state is created, at that point it becomes difficult to maintain individual human rights and freedoms, which are to try and build their own lives as they can best (without murdering and stealing and such). The entire problem is the rise of the welfare state, the theft via the income related taxes, the theft via inflation and laws and regulations and the subsidies from that stolen money to the people unwilling to work. That is what ended normal immigration into USA.
As to being legal not to pay workers, it's legal now, because you can have volunteers that you don't pay anything, but once you start paying the insane, horrific minimum wage laws (price controls on labour) kick in. There are unpaid interns in the White House and in Hollywood, and that's OK, but minimum wage employees in WalMart is not somehow OK.
Government has no authority to dictate any salary to anybody whatsoever, it usurped that power that it didn't have and destroyed individual freedoms.
As to people being out of work, the exact opposite is the case. Without laws that make it extremely expensive and difficult and dangerous (litigation) to hire and fire people, more people have jobs.
I am an employer, I built my own company, I would hire more people if there were no government encroaching into my individual freedoms and freedoms of people I hire to have our own contracts.
Government rules and regulations are expenses, more expenses means higher cost of labour. To hire somebody to pay them 18K after tax, a company spends 28K. The labour cost is high and yet the final after tax salary is low. Talk about people not being able to afford products...
You can't handle the truth.
Troll?
to pay somebody 18K after tax, employer has to pay what, 28K
- is that the 'Troll'? Only if you do not run a business and do not know what the employer's actual costs are when their employee makes that 18K net.
Is this troll? - Well, I guess a link to a Washington Post can be considered one, I give you that.
However it doesn't change the fact, 31% of Americans have 0 savings, 19 of those between 55 and 64 have 0 savings. Maybe the USA economy is a Troll with those numbers.
s 324.5 Million settlement is yet another cost on employment,
- is this the troll? So 324.5 Million dollars (or more eventually) taken from the companies is somehow not a cost of labour in USA? What is it the cost of then if not labour cost, imposed by unauthorised government rule?
Yeah, well, I guess if you are not here supporting what the court did you are a troll, there is no difference of opinion here, just those who are RIGHT and those who are TROLLS.
You can't handle the truth.
That this has not gone to a Federal Grand Jury appears more like corruption than anything else.
You're just noticing that there is corruption that goes on in favor of big business with impunity in the US? What are you, a fucking Republican?
Look where all this talking got us, baby.