Well, my acquiescence to my powerlessness over the Weather Channel has drawn a rousing chorus of “Booo!”s amongst my own small circle of morons. I’ve been called everything from a pussy, to an enabler, to an enabling pussy, to a … well, really those are the only two things I’ve been called, but they hurt.
Of course, I am, if nothing else, a slave to peer pressure. Not enough of a slave to get a nose ring, a tongue ring, skinny jeans, neon sunglasses, a fixed-gear bike, an ironic beard, or an iPad, but a slave nonetheless.
Yesterday, I sent the Weather Channel an email asking who authorized them to take my photograph, who authorized them to cut off my copyright, and how much ad revenue they had made from it.
It’s been nearly 24 hours, and I’ve yet to get a response. This is the amount of time they have to comply with my request … legally.
Apparently the sponsors of the SOPA legislation don’t take piracy very seriously when they are the pirates.
Irony or arrogance?