While I'm glad to see M$ go down and lose revenue just as much as anyone else, I really feel that we should be more focused on corporate adaptation of Linux in Germany, instead of trying to win the GNU/M$ battle through government intervention.
Between this, and all of the charity software donations that they're making, they're basically changing thier public perception, while maintaining their draconian licensing terms.
I have to give them kudos, even if only for the sake of sheer diabolicalness!
"I wonder if this means someone can finally add a version of KDE not dating from late in the Carter administration." Nice try, timothy. Would have almost worked too, if it wasn't for the fact that:
A)No pdp11 on EARTH could ever run KDE B)GNU's NOT UNIX! (and unix was all that was around during the carter years!)
You'll have to do much better than that if you're going to get one past us, Timothy.
Actually, I've found that 'surprise inspections' tend to do that rather well. Even though they were originally instituted to make sure that people weren't downloading porn, a pleasantly surprising side-benefit seems to be that people are less inclined to waste company time when they know they could get caught at any moment.
Except for the couple in closet. But two less homosexuals in the work place is a Good Thing[tm] (it's esp satisfying when they both break company policy and prove what I've always said about homos, in one swoop!)
They do drastically interfere with moral. Deathmatch grudges tend to get sorted out on the coding floor instead of in the realms of quake.
Also, since you have to consider the fact that I'd be opening myself up to a discrimination lawsuit for allowing men to 'fragg' but not allowing women to 'IM'; I'd rather just cut the whole deal out.
So my office is a no-games office. Instead, I try to encourage people to bring in inspirational reading, such as the bible.
The employees seem to rather like the 'guess which book this verse came from' game that I started up. IT's the one that usually gets picked during our state-mandated ten-minute break periods.
I sincerely doubt that private (read: 'hobbist') developers outside of the US will be affected.
If, by 'growth' you mean widespread adaptation by the corporate sector, I don't see how that could not be the case. Microsoft's involvement will almost cince it in many decision makers' eyes.
Bear in mind, that the people making these decisions are the same ones who believe that Bill Gates invented DOS and Windows, and that the only reason he got 'picked on' was because he didn't buy enough lobbyists/senators.
I don't think it's possible to underestimate the effect that Microsofts' involvement will have in this. The words "nail in the coffin" come to mind.
I state this to demonstrate how snowballed many of them already are, it won't take much to scare them permanently away from anything close to OSS.
When I think of dirty old men, I think of Bill Clinton and when I think about Bill 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.
Bill always looked Bill 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 Bill a dog about to mark a bush and let go the loudest fart I ever heard. The old fellow then winked at me, "Bill Clinton 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 Bill jumping old men's peckers?"
I shook my head.
"I reckon we'll have to remedy that." Bill 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, Bill 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!" Bill 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." Bill 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.
Bill winked. "Care to be asshole buddies?"
***
We worked steadily until noon. Bill 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 Bill 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 wi
In other news; Bill Clinton changes sides!
on
PressPlay + Roxio?
·
· Score: -1, Offtopic
When I think of dirty old men, I think of Bill Clinton and when I think about Bill 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.
Bill always looked Bill 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 Bill a dog about to mark a bush and let go the loudest fart I ever heard. The old fellow then winked at me, "Bill Clinton 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 Bill jumping old men's peckers?"
I shook my head.
"I reckon we'll have to remedy that." Bill 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, Bill 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!" Bill 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." Bill 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.
Bill winked. "Care to be asshole buddies?"
***
We worked steadily until noon. Bill 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 Bill 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 wi
That is what is at stake. After SCO wins this round, Linux and *BSD will truly become toys for computing hobbiests, and will be out of the server rooms.
The moral stakes, as well as the ethical and commercial ones, are quite high and frightening.
We're all familiar with the Randian concept of the mind body dichotomy, where she states that there is a division between those whose skills lie with the physical world, and others whose skills lie in the spiritaul (what she called 'witch doctors).
I think she would be quite amused at seeing the artistically inclined who try to bring their emotion-based sensibility to a wholly logical based platform such as computers.
Indeed, I'm sure that she would see defiling of computers [which are the embodiment of reason and logic] with irrationality [as most forms of modern are are based on] to be disgusting...assuming she wasn't busy laughing her ass off seeing the high priests of the physical (that would be you computer owners) tripping over themselves to debase themselves at the feet of our modern witch-doctors of bad post-modern esthetics!
Re:Meanwhile, a LEGAL and FUNCTIONAL PC
on
Hacking the XBox
·
· Score: 1
I find it strange that people actually buy into the crap that says modifying something you purchased is "illegal". It's called 'legally binding contractual agreements'. You'll learn about them when you turn 18.
Meanwhile, a LEGAL and FUNCTIONAL PC
on
Hacking the XBox
·
· Score: 3, Informative
which runs the Linux OS can be had from wal-mart for >$100 less.
Slashdot Mirror
The only OS which is a part of this complete martini!
paging mister gates, blue light special...
the unix haters' handbook? It's FREE! You like FREE, dont' you?!?!
where the ball is
wether or not someone is trying to "steal" a "base"
how much distance between you and the next base you need to reach [or the next player that you want to try to "tag out"]
where you can conviently spit your chaw
The signals being sent between the "pitcher" and the "catcher"
there, five, and I wasn't even trying, PLUS I'm not familiar with the game.
Santa Cruz Unix ..? ...midgets?
Someone help me out with this last letter here!
While I'm glad to see M$ go down and lose revenue just as much as anyone else, I really feel that we should be more focused on corporate adaptation of Linux in Germany, instead of trying to win the GNU/M$ battle through government intervention.
trends of de-centralisation? What are the contingency plans for when the RIAA does go after bit torrent sites?
or is there one?
Well, there goes my excuse for not being able to view corporate memos and write desings and reports at home
Actually, that that excuse went away some time ago.
Between this, and all of the charity software donations that they're making, they're basically changing thier public perception, while maintaining their draconian licensing terms.
I have to give them kudos, even if only for the sake of sheer diabolicalness!
"I wonder if this means someone can finally add a version of KDE not dating from late in the Carter administration."
Nice try, timothy. Would have almost worked too, if it wasn't for the fact that:
A)No pdp11 on EARTH could ever run KDE
B)GNU's NOT UNIX! (and unix was all that was around during the carter years!)
You'll have to do much better than that if you're going to get one past us, Timothy.
No, but I'd like to think I run as tight of a ship as he does.
Actually, I've found that 'surprise inspections' tend to do that rather well. Even though they were originally instituted to make sure that people weren't downloading porn, a pleasantly surprising side-benefit seems to be that people are less inclined to waste company time when they know they could get caught at any moment.
Except for the couple in closet. But two less homosexuals in the work place is a Good Thing[tm] (it's esp satisfying when they both break company policy and prove what I've always said about homos, in one swoop!)
They do drastically interfere with moral. Deathmatch grudges tend to get sorted out on the coding floor instead of in the realms of quake.
Also, since you have to consider the fact that I'd be opening myself up to a discrimination lawsuit for allowing men to 'fragg' but not allowing women to 'IM'; I'd rather just cut the whole deal out.
So my office is a no-games office. Instead, I try to encourage people to bring in inspirational reading, such as the bible.
The employees seem to rather like the 'guess which book this verse came from' game that I started up. IT's the one that usually gets picked during our state-mandated ten-minute break periods.
for 2005 to come around, when I can pull them out of debian stable. ;)
I sincerely doubt that private (read: 'hobbist') developers outside of the US will be affected.
If, by 'growth' you mean widespread adaptation by the corporate sector, I don't see how that could not be the case. Microsoft's involvement will almost cince it in many decision makers' eyes.
Bear in mind, that the people making these decisions are the same ones who believe that Bill Gates invented DOS and Windows, and that the only reason he got 'picked on' was because he didn't buy enough lobbyists/senators.
I don't think it's possible to underestimate the effect that Microsofts' involvement will have in this. The words "nail in the coffin" come to mind.
I state this to demonstrate how snowballed many of them already are, it won't take much to scare them permanently away from anything close to OSS.
When I think of dirty old men, I think of Bill Clinton and when I think about Bill 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.
Bill always looked Bill 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 Bill a dog about to mark a bush and let go the loudest fart I ever heard. The old fellow then winked at me, "Bill Clinton 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 Bill jumping old men's peckers?"
I shook my head.
"I reckon we'll have to remedy that." Bill 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, Bill 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!" Bill 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." Bill 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.
Bill winked. "Care to be asshole buddies?"
***
We worked steadily until noon. Bill 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 Bill 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 wi
When I think of dirty old men, I think of Bill Clinton and when I think about Bill 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.
Bill always looked Bill 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 Bill a dog about to mark a bush and let go the loudest fart I ever heard. The old fellow then winked at me, "Bill Clinton 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 Bill jumping old men's peckers?"
I shook my head.
"I reckon we'll have to remedy that." Bill 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, Bill 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!" Bill 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." Bill 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.
Bill winked. "Care to be asshole buddies?"
***
We worked steadily until noon. Bill 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 Bill 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 wi
That is what is at stake. After SCO wins this round, Linux and *BSD will truly become toys for computing hobbiests, and will be out of the server rooms.
The moral stakes, as well as the ethical and commercial ones, are quite high and frightening.
Are these the same 'art academics' who sell paintings made out of elephant feces, or the ones who dunk crosses in urine in the name of 'art'?
Maybe if they did give a , modern art would n't be in the elitist, inaccessible shambles that it is today.
Actually, Apple has made contributions to, and distributes GCC (which stands for Gnu C Compiler),
;)
Funny, I thought these fine folks distributed it.
Btw, if you click on that link, you'll find out what GCC really stands for. "collection" something or another.
We're all familiar with the Randian concept of the mind body dichotomy, where she states that there is a division between those whose skills lie with the physical world, and others whose skills lie in the spiritaul (what she called 'witch doctors).
...assuming she wasn't busy laughing her ass off seeing the high priests of the physical (that would be you computer owners) tripping over themselves to debase themselves at the feet of our modern witch-doctors of bad post-modern esthetics!
I think she would be quite amused at seeing the artistically inclined who try to bring their emotion-based sensibility to a wholly logical based platform such as computers.
Indeed, I'm sure that she would see defiling of computers [which are the embodiment of reason and logic] with irrationality [as most forms of modern are are based on] to be disgusting
I find it strange that people actually buy into the crap that says modifying something you purchased is "illegal".
It's called 'legally binding contractual agreements'. You'll learn about them when you turn 18.
which runs the Linux OS can be had from wal-mart for >$100 less.
I'm sorry, I don't see the appeal of this?
So, what you're saying is....
I have to endure five years of crappy Ghostbuster jokes all over again!??!!?
*reaches for the revolver*
liberal slashdotters
see this for what it really is.
Choose one, it can't be both.
Unless, that is, you're going to ascribe malicious intent; which I wouldn't. I think most liberals are misguided, more than anything else.