Is there anyone reading this who does not understand what is meant by the phrase Net Neutrality, or not understand why the subject is likely to be one of the most important issues of the next few years?
I’ve been meaning to write something of reasonable length about it for months, but have been unable to find the time, and the issue has got more and more press over the last month or two, so I’m wondering is there’s any need to bother…
Innocent drinks, known mostly around these parts for the endless phonecalls my former colleagues and I used to get for “Hannah from Innnocent Smoothies”, while I was working at Sanctuary, are throwing the same free music festival that they have for the last couple of years again this year. (Thus, perhaps justifying the music-related telephonic confusion.) You’d have been forgiven for not noticing the last couple of years, since there was no-one that thrilling on the line-up.
This year, the Saturday (5th August) sees the Puppini Sisters, Nouvelle Vague, Norman Jay and Arrested Development all on the same stage (plus the promising-sounding Whisky Cats). For free. And Carluccios are doing some tasty-sounding (but sadly not free) hampers to be picked up on the day, if you order in advance. It’s in Regent’s Park.
Anyone else think that this sounds like a civilised way to spend a Saturday afternoon? (More details on the fruitstock website. And yes, that name is fucking awful.)
So, this BBC headline Industry to stop ‘music cheats’ is a bit fucking disingenuous. What is should more properly read is “Industry to ‘cripple internet’, and ‘fuck with consumers’ at whim”.
In short: they’re asking for the right to pull the plug on the internet connection of anyone they suspect is pirating music. Not, you understand, the ability to prove that someone is engaged in illegal activity, and get a court order. Just y’know, the right to get in touch with your ISP and have your account yanked.
Noted copywonk Cory Doctrow explains it rather better than I might.
Yes, this all just a “maybe” in the future. A “might happen”. But still: the strength of the internet is that it’s a level playing field. That anyone with the right equipment can connect to it, from anywhere, and do as they please. It’s device and activity agnostic, and as Doctrow explains, that’s why it has become this fantastic medium. And I feel that any threat to that should be taken very seriously indeed.
Drinks beforehand?
If no-one has other plans, I (and other reprobates) will be in the Cobden Arms (because it’s nearby and got a half-decent beerintheevening write up) from about 7pm. (gmap).
Hope to see you there.
I have just received email with the subject line “Order status, Neo-platonist”.
I am sad to discover that it’s offering me the usual round of cheap drugs and 36-hour erections. I expected more.
But I was particularly taken with a few of the items I managed to turn up. The armour of Jamie Boardman served me quite well, for example, although the Wand Of Srcasm ran out rather faster than seemed plausible.
I was killed in an echoing oubliette by Johnmazzeo the owlbear, whilst carrying…
the Amulet of Whitenoise, a Figurine of Twicezero, the Armour of Jamie Boardman, the Sword of Mindwanders, the Dagger of Whiskey, the Sword of West Wing, the Wand of Sarcasm, the Shield of Writing and 134 gold pieces.
Score: 104
Explore the Dungeon of Alasdair and try to beat this score,
or enter your username to generate and explore your own dungeon…
I think I start to understand how people become workaholics. This is my twelfth straight day in the office (some of those days have been 12 hour days) and I know that I’m not thinking normally. It’s not just tiredness, it’s a sort of weirdly energised, slightly manic state that’s fun, in a strange sort of way. Part of my just wants to crawl home, and the other half is looking around for more stuff to do.
Accordingly: talk to me. Tell me of your problems, and Solomon like, I shall solve them. Or at least cut them in half. Tell me of the thing you want, or things that you just can’t get off your mind. Tell of things of interest, or at least diverting amusement. Ask me questions.
Anything, just for god’s sake, don’t let me curl up under my desk and sleep. I’ve got all these plates to keep spinning…
Firstly: Free Depeche Mode/Goldfrapp ticket
I have a ticket for the O2 Wireless Festival on Sunday, that, even if I have the time to use it, suspect I won’t have the energy. It’s free to anyone willing to come collect it from wherever I am over the weekend. (Tooting/Battersea Park/Angel being the likely options.) First come, first served.
Secondly: Art: Strandbeest
Strandbeest are in London, in the Traf Square area. Depending on time, I may try and go see them this weekend, with camera in hand.
Thirdly: Upcoming gigs:
So I don’t forget:
Gogol Bordello, 6th July, KOKO
Alabama 3, 13th July, KOKO
Flogging Molly, 25 July, Mean Fiddler
Fourthly: I would like to sleep now.
Or at least the Forth.
It was pointed out to me the other day that it’s a year since I was last in Edinburgh.
Something must be done.
Although not soon, as I am still at work.
Those few of you who have ninthart on your friends pages have probably just had the paged deluged.
That’s because today is Ninth Art‘s final update, and it’s bloody enormous.
After a bit over five years, we’re shutting up the shop. Not that, to be honest, it’s much to do with me. The article I wrote (my Top Nine comics, should anyone who hasn’t been reading 9A be interested) in this update is my first contribution to the site in a about two years, aside from a little bit of programming tweaking that no-one but I will have noticed, and prior to that, I was just producing the odd column. I’ve never had much to do with the regular running of the site.
Credit for keep the site running, week in, week out belongs to anw and antonyjohnston. Andrew has edited every damn word on that site (one and a quarter million words at a conservative estimate, or about 10 novels worth) and Antony has dressed up some 1200 articles with header graphics and images. Every bloody week.
So, please, give the pair of them a round of applause, as they shuffle off to the sanatorium, broken and gibbering.
Ninth Art will remain in place as an archive, and there’s a bit more work required to change it from a chronological publishing tool to a useful archive (which probably means I’ll spend more time tinkering with it over the next few years than I ever have while it was live) but for now, that’s all she wrote.