Atomictumor

Death. This is a death and mortality post. Yep. There’s not a bit of politics to be found in it. I had a birthday a little while ago, but that hasn’t occasioned any more thoughts about my own mortality…than usual.

No, the Missus and I were driving to Knoxville the other day. We saw a casket sitting out on the grass when we drove past the big cemetary near the Clinch River. It was a dull, silver rectangle box with rod handles. It was odd, really, to see it out in the open like that. I have to wonder if it was occupied, especially given the dog days heat we’ve had lately. It probably wasn’t occupied. I imagine it is some sort of grave liner, but then there were the ornate handles…

Anyhow, the Missus and I began discussing burials and such. It seems to me that The Missus is much more comfortable with this whole situation than I am. I mean hearses creep me out. I get the heeby-geebies when one stops next to me at a signal light. (They are annoying, too. I always get that stupid song in my head afterwards. You know the one about not laughing as the hearse goes by.) I’m resigned to the fact that I will die. I know that. There’s a great Flaming Lips song about this.

Oh, well.

The Missus and I continued our mortal discussion. We both agreed that it makes no sense to spend so much money on a casket. I just don’t see the point. So, when I die I want to be put in a casket of my own choosing. I don’t want one that is ostentatious. I want one like this. Seriously, that’s the one. It’s even made by monks. It’s no bargan, but it is better than a McCoffin. (I have to say I didn’t realize Costco sold caskets. That would be like going to Sam’s to buy a coffin.)

So, there you have it. One of my attempt to come to terms with my own mortality.

Around 3 o’clock I got a call from Willow Brook. From the nurse’s station. Apparently MastaG was running amok on the playground and smacked right into a metal bar with his head. The nurse was horrible unforthcoming with information over the phone, but she said he wouldn’t be able to ride the bus. Ugh. I’d have to brave the car rider traffic.
AT got home just as I was leaving, so we headed out together. We got to the school, rushed to the nurse’s station and saw poor ol’ G sprawled out on the bed with his feet propped up and an ice pack on his noggin. He was awfully pale, but alert.
Apparently he was running at top speed (from girls, no doubt) and thought he’d be able to clear the bar and instead ran smack into it with his forehead. He didn’t lose conciousness, but the nurse said he was pretty shaken up when he was brought in. She strongly recommended we take him to the doc, so we did.
The doc gave him the all clear and said to give him Tylenol if he devolops a headache, and to keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t have any signs of a concussion. Roger that.
So as of right now, MastaG’s milkin’ it for all he’s worth, soaking up as much pity as we can muster. I can just imagine him giving the girls puppy dog eyes at school tomorrow.

Here at the ‘tumor, we’re wondering just how popular we might be getting. We have an account at a nifty place called statcounter.com which gives us a fairly good idea of how many people view our site each day (around 100 unique individuals, thanks for asking). But out of those 100 people, only 10 or so actually comment.

I can understand that. There are quite a few sites that I visit at which I am not inclined to leave my footprint. Usually it’s because the subject matter is of no interest to me. But c’mon! How can the ‘tumor NOT be interesting to you folks?!

So it is with much trepidation that I post this… er, well, post. If you visit this site fairly often and find it humorous, educational, or oddly fascinating in a train-wreck-y sort of way, please let us know by leaving a comment. You know, where you’re from, how you found us, how much we suck, how foxy your grandma is. If no one comments, then I shall take down this post shamefully and with much embarassment and we shall never speak of it again.

And if you’re a regular commenter and you’re embarassed for me by how few comments this post gets, create a new account and leave something nice.

Things aren’t going well for the RIAA and their tactics of throwing a lawsuit on people accused of downloading music.  Its been working well when the folks accused roll over and pay the few thousand dollar settlements offered, but when they man up and take the case to court, well, its just not working well.

Ars Technica talks about two recent cases, one involving an Oklahoma mother, another involving a cheerleader in California, and both dismissed for lack of proof.  See, the RIAA has so far been getting an easily obtainable IP address of an alleged copyright infringer, getting the name from the ISP distributing the IP address (all easy stuff to do), and dropping the lawsuit down on the person who owns the internet account.

Problem is, theres no way to connect the person who owns the internet account to the person doing the downloading.  In both of these cases, they were able to provide evidence that other people in the house may have done the downlading, the former being an ex-husband who lived at the house, the latter being cheerleaders constantly at the house for lessons.

RIAA dropped the cases like a hot potato when it became apparent that they had no leg to stand on.

Does this mean its OK to fire up Kazaa and download that Paris Hilton song that I know you all want?  Well, maybe not, because its a king hell of a messed up legal situation.  You get sued for uploading, not downloading, so technically, as long as you don’t share what you got, you’re all good.  However, that makes you no friends on the internet. 

You know, I don’t really have a problem with this being illegal.  What I have a problem with is the extent to which these corporations can legally go to ruin your life for an essentially victimless crime.  And yes, it is victimless.  Nobody goes hungry.  In exchange for a poor ass me being able to listen to a little music, a rich ass them maybe doesn’t get another champaign bath.