That reminds me...

StumbleUpon (look it up yourself) constantly directs me to cheesy artist websites where, through the elementary magic of Flash and other serverside shenanigans, the images can't be downloaded to local disk drives, and vistas of draconian legalism hover in the fog of warnoffs, veiled threats and amateur diznayism, and it's just now occurred to me that my customary response to this stuff as I leave such a website probably should be articulated. Here it is:

If you tell me not to use your photoshopped flowers and derivative avantgardian grunge, however scaled-down, low-res and pathetically unlike the refined private albums you flog to your friends, I promise that I will comply utterly, without a moment's hesitation, and that furthermore within 40 seconds I will have forgotten your name, your art and the fact that you ever existed.

"Intellectual property is intellectual theft." — Virtual V. I. Lenin

"Where have all the stolen intellectuals gone?" — Virtual Woody Guthrie

(I have already forgotten vast quantities of Walt Disney. Soon, I will have forgotten the entire last three volumes of J. K. Rowling.)


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