Recently I read a news story about a woman whose domain name is being hijacked.
Some of you may have heard of a book called "Katie.com" about a little girl whose parents parked her in front of a computer instead of spending time with her and teaching her about the real life. She apparently was drawn in by the lies of someone on the Internet (doi), and agreed to meet this person in real life, where she was molested. Gee, how many times does this have to happen before parents realize that its their responsibility to keep track of their kids and not let them go off on their own before they have a brain? By the way, I'm the spitting image of Nicole Kidman, and rich... uh huh.
Penguin books published her story, and since the victim's name is Katie, they called the book Katie.com. They were going to call it "girl.com", but apparently girl.com is a porn site, which defeats the entire message of the book. So, they called it Katie.com... except that Katie.com actually belongs to a person named Katie... not the girl who was abused, but a woman that was given the domain as a gift from her husband in 1996 to share pictures of her family and blog. The abused girl has her own domain called Katiet.com, but apparently that doesn't trip off the tongue and isn't "marketable".
Since the publishing of katie.com, zillions of abused people, sickos, whack jobs, and morons have been posting to katie.com about their stories, asking questions, looking for help, much to the non-amusement of poor Katie... who leads a normal life and just wants to share pictures of her family. She asked Penguin to stop using her domain name, and sanely asked them to rename the book katiet.com so people would be directed to the proper site where they could vent their spleens about their abuse, or post crack pot crap as they wished. Penguin (being a big mondo corporation who claims to be the leading publisher of children's books) sent their lawyers after poor Katie and asked her to donate her domain to them. Um.. what?
Once the initial hoopla over the book ended, the e-mail flood slowed, and Katie thought she could get her Web site back... until Al Roker latched onto the Katie story, now it's begun again.
First of all, why should this woman "donate" her domain to a big named publisher who should have checked to make sure they weren't infringing on her domain in the first place. They checked out girl.com and found it inapropriate, so one has to think that they found katie.com to be easy pickings. Katie isn't a horrible person for not forking over what is rightly hers to the publishers, she's not "anti-child" or "pro child abuse" because she wants to hold onto her domain. It's Penguin's evil plan to get what they want by pressuring an innocent person to hand over something they want.
The abused Katie claims that it was all Penguin's doing and she had no choice in the matter. To her I have to say "didn't you learn your lesson the first time you were manipulated and used?" I certainly don't think you are qualified to write a book telling kids how to keep from being manipulated and used when you continue to be so yourself. Whether its a child molestor, or a big company, you are a pawn and haven't learned your lesson apparently.
To Penguin, I have to say: you really suck! You publish children's books, so what are you teaching children by what you are doing? Hey, if you want something, harrass and steal it!
To Katie, the real owner of katie.com I say: keep up the good fight and don't let go! I tried to think of some way for her to get back. Publish porn on it... funny, but nah. Perhaps throw "Hamster dance" on there to annoy everyone? Stick a HUGE link on there to the real katiet.com site and tell people to harrass her instead?
Inevitably, Katie should be able to do anything she wants to her website, and she shouldn't have to fear opening her e-mail every day because some sicko, whacko, or just plain idiot can't see that this isn't the site of katiet and her tale of woe.
Leave Katie.com alone! Spread the word of this to your friends and tell Penguin books to shove it and rename the stupid book. Tell Katiet to grow some nads and stop getting used and manipulated, and support katie who is just an average person like you and I, and some day we may be dealing with the same crap if we let Penguin win.
Saturday, July 31, 2004
That Morning Jolt
Some people wake up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee. My mornings usually consist of pulling a dead thing out of the mouth of one of my dogs.
This morning (like many mornings) an unfortunate decision was made by a woodland creature to come into my heavily guarded, overly fenced in yard. I don't know how they get in, or why they get in. I would think that after so many have died in the fortress, they would have erected some type of sign, or smell that said "you will die if you go in here". This time it was a fledgling bird, too young to realize its mistake until it was too late.
As always, the three of them (Nova is 15 and retired from killing), gathered like the hungry, slathering pack they become when something potentially tasty and fun enters the yard. I've stopped trying to save these creatures, it's useless. At one point (before I knew better) I would run behind the dogs as they chased the terrified creature, trying to stop the carnage before it happened. They are all much quicker, and more determined than I, so now I merely stand in one spot (trying not to get run over in the zeal of the chase), and wait for the inevitable, kinda rooting for the hunted to find an escape route, knowing what will eventually happen. Squirrels know the sound of the door opening and run for the trees, birds float away quickly as the dogs come running out. Fledgling bird season brings a lot of carnage though, and it's that time of the year.
Loki lunges into the barrier that is piled against the gate to keep them contained and then quickly runs away gleefully while the others investigate the barrier area. They don't realize that he's found the prey, and now he's trying to swallow it before I get to him.
I have them somewhat trained to spit out stuff they shouldn't have. "Trade up" means they get something even tastier than what they have, but what could be more tastier than a dead thing? The answer to that question is goldfish crackers, but as usual, not only do I not have enough time to grab the bag of goldfish crackers kept by the back door for this reason, nor put on the rubber gloves I bought to keep my flesh from touching the still warm, sometimes still quivering dead, or mortally wounded thing they've caught.
I'm glad it's Loki that has the bird, as Sam runs and chews. Meeshka usually spits out, but she spits out before I'm standing there, and then Sam steals it and runs and chews. Loki is a good boy, he stands and chews, and allows me to grab him by the scruff, pry his jaws open (with promises of a trade up) and pull the dead baby bird out of his mouth by the leg... ick. I deposit it over the fence, in the same spot that all dead or dying things go. I imagine the pile of bones to be growing, or that cats are lining up there waiting for the next dead treat to be tossed over.
I'm sure the neighbors love our attempts at retrieving the dead things. One morning at 5 a.m., successful in bagging a squirrel, we chased Sam around the yard screaming "DROP IT, TRADE UP", as he tried to swallow the adult squirrel whole, the other dogs chasing him like a ghoulish version of keep away.
One afternoon, a young bunny ventured into the yard through a tiny little opening in the fence. The chase was on, and I just stood out of the way, awed by the pack as they plotted, planned, and schemed how to get the running toy. It was actually quite beautiful to watch them synchronizing the chase, who would do what, all in the 10 seconds it lasted. As the group converged into the corner, I was sure I'd hear the death scream, and have to start the task of retrieving it, but amazingly enough the bunny shot out of the pile of dogs and squeezed through the crack in the fence to safety. I was amazed, the dogs were pissed.
As with all prey, they return to the original scene of the crime, expecting to find more birds, as if the barrier were a bird dispenser. After a few times out, they'll forget about the goody they found there, and continue stalking other creatures that happen to venture into the yard.
This morning (like many mornings) an unfortunate decision was made by a woodland creature to come into my heavily guarded, overly fenced in yard. I don't know how they get in, or why they get in. I would think that after so many have died in the fortress, they would have erected some type of sign, or smell that said "you will die if you go in here". This time it was a fledgling bird, too young to realize its mistake until it was too late.
As always, the three of them (Nova is 15 and retired from killing), gathered like the hungry, slathering pack they become when something potentially tasty and fun enters the yard. I've stopped trying to save these creatures, it's useless. At one point (before I knew better) I would run behind the dogs as they chased the terrified creature, trying to stop the carnage before it happened. They are all much quicker, and more determined than I, so now I merely stand in one spot (trying not to get run over in the zeal of the chase), and wait for the inevitable, kinda rooting for the hunted to find an escape route, knowing what will eventually happen. Squirrels know the sound of the door opening and run for the trees, birds float away quickly as the dogs come running out. Fledgling bird season brings a lot of carnage though, and it's that time of the year.
Loki lunges into the barrier that is piled against the gate to keep them contained and then quickly runs away gleefully while the others investigate the barrier area. They don't realize that he's found the prey, and now he's trying to swallow it before I get to him.
I have them somewhat trained to spit out stuff they shouldn't have. "Trade up" means they get something even tastier than what they have, but what could be more tastier than a dead thing? The answer to that question is goldfish crackers, but as usual, not only do I not have enough time to grab the bag of goldfish crackers kept by the back door for this reason, nor put on the rubber gloves I bought to keep my flesh from touching the still warm, sometimes still quivering dead, or mortally wounded thing they've caught.
I'm glad it's Loki that has the bird, as Sam runs and chews. Meeshka usually spits out, but she spits out before I'm standing there, and then Sam steals it and runs and chews. Loki is a good boy, he stands and chews, and allows me to grab him by the scruff, pry his jaws open (with promises of a trade up) and pull the dead baby bird out of his mouth by the leg... ick. I deposit it over the fence, in the same spot that all dead or dying things go. I imagine the pile of bones to be growing, or that cats are lining up there waiting for the next dead treat to be tossed over.
I'm sure the neighbors love our attempts at retrieving the dead things. One morning at 5 a.m., successful in bagging a squirrel, we chased Sam around the yard screaming "DROP IT, TRADE UP", as he tried to swallow the adult squirrel whole, the other dogs chasing him like a ghoulish version of keep away.
One afternoon, a young bunny ventured into the yard through a tiny little opening in the fence. The chase was on, and I just stood out of the way, awed by the pack as they plotted, planned, and schemed how to get the running toy. It was actually quite beautiful to watch them synchronizing the chase, who would do what, all in the 10 seconds it lasted. As the group converged into the corner, I was sure I'd hear the death scream, and have to start the task of retrieving it, but amazingly enough the bunny shot out of the pile of dogs and squeezed through the crack in the fence to safety. I was amazed, the dogs were pissed.
As with all prey, they return to the original scene of the crime, expecting to find more birds, as if the barrier were a bird dispenser. After a few times out, they'll forget about the goody they found there, and continue stalking other creatures that happen to venture into the yard.
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