While the country is focused on the state of the economy and the recent vote, which rejected the $700 billion bail-out for financial institutions, the U.S. Senate has passed controversial legislation that “threatens the livelihoods of everyone who relies on copyright for a living.”

I’m talking about the “Orphan Works Act,” which was first introduced early last spring. Read the full text of the bill here.

Tom Richmond, MAD Magazine cartoonist, stated “There is no way a logically minded individual can think that the Orphan Works act is a good idea and will help promote the creation of creative works, as it claims. It will seriously damage the livelihood of the very creators they somehow seek to encourage to create.”

It isn’t just cartoonists and illustrators whose livelihood will be impacted by this bill. Musicians, writers, bloggers, photographers, and many other creative artists will be affected. Here is a list of all organizations opposed.

As David Rhodes, President of the School of Visual Arts has said, the Orphan Works bill would socialize the expense of copyright protection while privatizing the profit of creative endeavors.

Here is an example, from Ted Rall, president of the Association of American Editorial Cartoonists (AAEC), to help people gain a basic understanding of this bill.

Let’s say, for example, that a book publisher wanted to print an editorial cartoon in a history textbook. Currently a typical reprint fee for such use is $250. Under current copyright law, a publisher who gets caught using such work without permission would be liable for three times the standard rate—in this case, $750. A judge could order the books impounded. If the cartoonist had to hire a lawyer, a judge could make the violator pay his or her attorney’s fees. These provisions deter most would-be copyright violators.

Under the Orphan Works Act, the deterrent effect of punishment would all but vanish. If the cartoonist learned about the infringement and tracked down its perpetrator, all the publisher would have to do to avoid the triple penalty would be to claim that it engaged in an as-yet undefined “good-faith search.” In the cited example, the aggrieved cartoonist would receive $250. He or she would have no way to remove the image from a book that he or she might find objectionable—say, one that advocated reprehensible political views. There would be no compensation for legal fees, or the time and effort involved in tracking down lawbreakers. And that’s assuming the artist were ever to learn about the illegal usage.

Or, in other words….

© Nick Anderson

this is sooooo good. Even if the pbs guy is a little goofy, his questions are good.

This is kind of a downer, but I thought it was so startling that it was worth pointing out. I was writing and researching yesterday and came across this New York Times article from last February.

A new five-year analysis of the nation’s death rates recently released by the federal Centers for Disease Control and Prevention found that the suicide rate among 45-to-54-year-olds increased nearly 20 percent from 1999 to 2004, the latest year studied, far outpacing changes in nearly every other age group. (All figures are adjusted for population.)

For women 45 to 54, the rate leapt 31 percent. “That is certainly a break from trends of the past,” said Ann Haas, the research director of the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention.

Scary stuff if you ask me. There are a lot of unhappy people in this culture. Call your middle-aged parents and tell them that you love them.

One day last week, I rode my bike to ft. tuthill and back as quickly as possible just to blow off steam. On the way back, I kept stopping because the sunset was so magnificent. At the same time a huge storm started rolling in from the south. Thunder, lightning, cool winds, coming fast. It started sprinkling, then raining. The thunder shook the trees around me.

While riding, I secretly wanted to get struck by lightning. It sounds messed up, I know, but it’s true. “Strike me down!” I thought as I peddled as hard as I could over mud, splashing though puddles. I didn’t want to die; it wasn’t like that. But I did want to get struck.

You know how when people have near death experiences and it changes their life around? You hear of some dude who gets in a horrible car accident, or gets mauled by a bear, or falls off a cliff; then they realize that life could end at any moment. Then they quit the job they hate and finally start leading the life they felt like they were meant to live. I wanted to get struck by lightning so I could feel more justified in analyzing my life more existentially, to have the guts to pursue what I love.

It started hailing. It hurt, but I basked in the simple feeling of being ‘alive,’ feeling alive. For a second I really thought I might be struck. But, alas, here I am.

All of this begs simple questions like, what does a well-lived life look like? What does love feel like? Sometimes the simplest questions have the hardest answers. Over the past few days I’ve learned that it takes a lot of guts to be real with yourself.

The truth is, nobody has to face death to assert a level of autonomy and control over their life. If a dam blows, the long term habitat gain overshadows the short term loss. And all dams need to be blown.

Today I quit my job. And I didn’t even have to get struck by lightning.

If you’re not sure what an alley cat race is, google it, but our race looked like this.

There were forty of us, at least (flagstaff is not a huge city…), at the start on the top of a parking garage somewhere, after 10pm. We laid all our bikes down together, and from the far end of the lot, we ran, picked them up and took off, winding down the garage, yelling, down to the street.

There were so many of us and a lot of people were riding fixed gears; some hadn’t been riding them for very long. There were some pretty bad spills before we even reached the bottom of the parking garage. I saw another really bad spill right when we came out. Someone tried to hop a curb and went down hard. My first reaction is, “dude, are you okay?” But then I remember I’m in a race. A race! “So long sucker!”

We raced a planned route through a relatively quite area. To be honest, it didn’t really feel like a race; the competition was all in good fun. Lots of fantastic shit talking that was always funny. It was all moderated by checkpoints, where we received a playing card (one giant poker game at the end). The race ended after 5 check points, back at the top of another garage somewhere. Despite grabbing someone else’s bike initially, I got a pretty good start, and from there I just made sure to stay with the people in the front (mostly because I didn’t really know what the route was). It was pretty quick – maybe 4 miles or so. More? I don’t know. Out of 40 people, I came in with the first group, somewhere between 4th and 6th I think. Ray should have the video up soon, hopefully, so I can see for sure.

Then the cops came. Someone yelled “scatter!” and freaked everybody out. Some people ran and some people realized that we weren’t doing anything wrong, sitting up there with our bikes, talking…I was in the latter group. The cop had a job to do and he played his role. We nodded and played our part. I think everyone felt pretty good.

I was pretty exhausted before the race even started, having taken my cross bike down the AZ trail from the Rio del Flag area to Lake Mary, down Lake Mary Road back into town through south campus on the urban trail. It’s like 20 miles or so. I felt like a real cross racer from time to time, hoping off the bike and running (walking), jumping (climbing) over rocks and logs and roots. I didn’t even bring an extra tube. Daring! It was great though. Birds, lizards, snakes, butterflies. The works.

UPDATE: video posted. preeeeeeeety sweeeeeet.

Open Alleycat from RobothouseTV on Vimeo.