November 01, 2000
Swaine's Flames: AcrophiliaMichael Swaine
I've been manfully avoiding columns that conceal puzzles in prose: What I mean precisely are those devilishly twisted columns involving subtle code you must crack and when you solve it what you've got is some dumb nonsense.
My indomitably manful determination recently abandoned me. You all can contemplate what went wrong. But it's obvious, surely. What you see is what you get.
I recently concluded a complicated move from my old office perch to my new, larger quarters. Besides all usual duties, my partner's entrepreneurial glee is bringing me some new obligations -- boring ones, largely. As we know, farming's unusually dull. But I transgress. I mean digress. I started by nattering on about my office, so...
To the left as I face the door is a beat-up couch. Behind it, placed strategically, is my stockpile, aka inventory: potato chips, crackers, cookies, dishcloths, canned goods abundant, eco-friendly soap powder, and other luxuries we provide to campers participating in programs that involve working on organic farms for food (WOOFFF*).
On the couch as I enter my sanctuary this morning, gobbling every morsel that doesn't land on the couch, is perched obnoxiously my cousin Corbett.
"You're absolutely crumby, Corbett," I say downright nastily, referring to how the mess looks.
"Could be messier," he says languidly.
"No, but Corbett," I say petulantly, "You're actually crushing crumbs into the couch. In our present context, what's worse? Well?"
"Croutons in futons," he answers laconically.
This is going nowhere -- unsurprisingly. Yet another cousin Corbett moment, I decide instinctively.
"So what's it mean that the law is getting all upset regarding linking?" Corbett inquires abruptly, changing the subject.
"Pass me some of those crackers," I diplomatically -- and prudently -- implore. Better accumulate supplies in case Corbett, as usual, runs long.
What apparently is setting Corbett off is recent action regarding linking legality. Numerous such actions, all (on legal foundations) arguably questionable.
Corbett recounts many legal cases "deprecating the innate freedom to link," as Corbett describes these incidents.
"Not only prohibited," Corbett makes it plain, "was distributing material forbidden from transmission, but feature this: They can't link, this Kaplan says, to other sites where prohibited code is stored.
"And so it continues. In another case, the innovative judge evidently decided evil coders needed to show contrition. I'll grant you, now, that the judge probed evidence grandly, but then undoubtedly made plainly erroneous guesses."
I add my two bits: "And then there's the case in France involving furor over selling Nazi artifacts." I clean up some crumbs so I can sit my aching carcass down.
Corbett gets incensed. "When Yahoo stood its (wouldn't you?) ground, a pompous legal Gallic wit barked and said it can't."
"Which was what?" I prod, encouraging nitpicking in a cousin.
"A travesty, I say, a mockery, a sham, it's clear."
"Don't mince any words, Corbett. So in my dialect, what you're saying -- "
" -- is we yahooligans got the royal shaft."
"I suspected as much."
"Actually cousin Mike, you're a clueless cuz. Repeat after me: I simply don't know."
I wonder why he's turning mean, like, until realizing I'm out of pretzels. Sic semper Corbett.
In my farm inventory there aren't pretzels left, only credible renown for the lucky person decoding my nutty code rightly.
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