THIS legal threat, I'm less worried about

To be perfectly honest, I don't really care very much if someone rips off the pretty pictures I take of products and uses them for their eBay listings.

If you ask me for permission to use my pictures for commercial purposes, I'll cheerfully license them to you for a small fee.

But most people don't ask, of course. They just do a Google Images search and take whatever they want.

That doesn't actively take money out of my pocket. It just deprives me of royalties from someone who clearly doesn't want to pay royalties anyway. Which is why I don't very much care.

(Cue ISO Standard Piracy Argument in 3, 2, 1...)

Anyway, a little while ago, I reviewed a pen-shaped close-focus webcam thing called the ETime Home Endoscope. It's a neat gadget.

There aren't many pictures of the ETime Endoscope online, so if you image-search for it, you'll get a bunch of my pics on the first page of results.

This, and the absence of any decent handout pictures from the people who make the camera, has made my pictures pretty much the only option for someone who wants to sell ETime endoscopes on eBay or wherever but (a) can't be bothered taking their own pictures and (b) doesn't want to pay for someone else's pictures.

Since I'm now signed up with eBay's Verified Rights Owner ("VeRO") program, though, all I have to do to get eBay to delete any listings that copy my stuff is send them an e-mail. A couple of days later, the offending listings will be kaput.

So every now and then, when a reader points out a ripped-off listing to me or when I find one myself, I do that.

I did that with one seller of the Endoscope a while ago. Their listings disappeared, and they didn't post any more that I've noticed. Apparently taking pictures of the stuff they sell cuts into their profit margins too much to make it worthwhile, or something.

The other day, I found that another eBay seller, "endoscopes.endoscopy", was doing the same thing. They appear to be under the impression that putting their own advertising text on top of my picture, and/or sticking three of my pictures together with some others from the ETime site, is enough to make the pictures theirs.

Even as I was typing this, the above PhotoBucket-hosted image mysteriously disappeared. Clearly the work of someone who's quite sure that everything they're doing is perfectly above board!

I saved it, though. Here's the top portion of their composite image, which contains no pictorial content besides my images and ones from the ETime site.

Their PhotoBucket page at the moment still contains several versions of the composite image. From the text on the variants, it would seem they're also listed on eBay as "usb.etime.pencams". And here, here, here and here are their direct copies of my images, except with the aspect ratio screwed up and text slapped on top.

Oh, and apparently they don't like people copying images from their own site about hockey! It would appear that people "who steal all our photos and ideas" are "punk asswipes"!

Couldn't have put it better myself, guys!

I'm speculating, above, about how these people's reasoning works, because it's kind of hard to figure it out from this:

Date: Sat, 16 Feb 2008 15:36:42 -0500
From: "usbscopes@gmail.com" <usbscopes@gmail.com>
To: dan@dansdata.com
Subject: removing our ebay listings

Dear Dan,

1) We don't appreciate you removing our ebay listings of e-time pencams off ebay!

2) We are an authorized ebay distributors of etime ehe pencams.

3) We didn't use any wording or images off your website!

4) If you have our listings removed again, We are hiring an attorney in Australia to take you into court. So please be prepared!

endoscopes.endoscopy

After sending me this, they listed another ten or so auctions with the same ripped-off pictures in them.

I told them the exact pictures they had copied, and that I took those pictures in my house, with my camera, for my review of the product. And I filed another VeRO complaint, and got all of the new listings pulled too.

Their cogent response:

Date: Sun, 17 Feb 2008 13:47:21 -0500
From: "Steven Jordan" <usbscopes@gmail.com>
To: Dan <dan@dansdata.com>
Subject: Re: removing our ebay listings

see you in court asshole

(...followed by the quoted text of my e-mail, which it seems did not make much of an impression upon them.)

I'm sure these guys are hopping on a plane from Florida right now. I'd better make some space on my calendar.

And yes, I'm aware that this could have been much, much funnier.

I must say, I'm quite upset.

But I have to work with what I can get.

Big sites pick up the story!

M'verygoodfriend Joel Johnson at gadgets.boingboing.net could, I think it's fair to say, be more impressed with the CEO of Firepower International.

(I'm basing this assessment on the idea that "blowhard dickbag" is an insult. Do tell me if I'm wrong.)

Rob Beschizza of the Wired blog has also picked up the story, taking the time to Photoshop the Firepower logo a bit, and writing a disappointingly sober piece on the subject of Firepower-esque scams in general.

Oh, sure, it's all very sensible, Rob. But how are we supposed to take you seriously if you haven't called anyone a cockmonger?

"My wife, my children, and the nation of Romania."

YouTube comments should, of course, be ignored at all times. But the few comments for this video are works of incandescent genius compared with the usual collection.

One commenter, however, says "90,000 taxed out of 100,000. That wasn't a joke. One of the things that drove Reagan into the Republican party."

That commenter probably said that because he (or she) does not understand income tax brackets.

Income tax brackets seem to be one of those concepts that just slither out of people's mental grasp, like daylight saving time and aeroplanes on conveyor belts.

Another leading indicator of this misunderstanding is when someone expresses the opinion that making more money, so that you move into a higher tax bracket, means you'll have less money to take home than you would if you'd stuck with your lower income.

The simplest kind of progressive tax does indeed work this way, and imposing such a tax on income would indeed be crazy unless there were about a million tax brackets for incomes between $1 and $1,000,000. If the tax on income to $5000 is 20% but it shifts to 40% when you make $5000.01, you'll lose a lot of money if you get a raise from $5000 to $5100.

What actually happens, though, is that each bracket's tax rate only applies for the money you earn within that bracket.

So if you make $10,000 a year, and the country where you live has a $0-to-$5000 20% tax bracket and a $5000.01-to-$10,000 40% tax bracket, you'll pay a total of $3000 in tax.

The above sketch is from 1961, when the Internal Revenue Code of 1954 was still in force in the USA; it ran from '54 to '63. At that time, the top US tax rate was 91%.

But that only applied to the portion of your income above $200,000 a year. $200,000 in 1961 dollars would be worth an easy 1.4 million bucks today, and was worth even more in comparison to the average wage.

Which isn't to say that 90%-plus isn't a pretty hilarious top tax rate, but it's not as if some hardworking surgeon making $100,000 was taking home less money than a lazy plumber on fifteen grand.

In fact, the take-home pay of a person making $100,000 in 1961 in the USA, with no deductions, was $32,680. They would pay $67,320, not $90,000, in tax.

A 67.32% total tax rate still isn't anything to sneeze at. But it ain't 90%, either.

The Six Ugliest Space Lego Sets

I'm sure every kid who, like me, spent hours on end poring over Lego (or Meccano) catalogues, was not doing so in simple appreciation of the masterful design that went into the models.

No - we were looking at the parts. Looking, and evaluating.

"It's five more dollars for this spaceship over that one, but you get a big engine cone instead of the medium size, and one of the cool new blue spacemen instead of just another red one..."

And so on.

I developed a great enthusiasm for Technic Lego as well, but Space was my first love. And it had some weird sets.

Every now and then there'd be something that was just so super-cool that the parts in it hardly mattered, seeing as you never took it apart. The Tri-Star Voyager qualified in that category for me, and the old Space Shuttle (less confusingly called the Two-Man Scooter outside the USA) was a contender too.

The real entertainment was to be had at the other end of the aesthetic scale, though.

Sets that you built, looked at, said "I'm eight, and even my spaceships look better than that", and dismantled at once, lest their ugliness prove to be contagious.

Let's kick off with Space Lego's greatest miss from 1985, the unmentionable, or at least un-named, set 1968...

Lego set 1968

...which was apparently built from the wreckage of one or two crashed Gamma-V Laser Craft (which look completely fantastic; my Gamma-V was another of my never-taken-apart models).

Lego Interplanetary Shuttle

And then there's this, the Interplanetary Shuttle. It's apparently a mail delivery vehicle... with a control panel in front of the driver, facing away from him.

Different Space series had a whole genre of funny looking little robots, the king of which was the mighty 6951 Robot Command Center.

Lego Robot Command Center

The Robot Command Center is the only one on this list that I actually owned - because as a parts pack, it was superb.

As a model, though, it was atrocious. It was not only bizarrely misshapen; it also had things on it that didn't even make sense.

Those big blue double-canopy jaw things on the side were the most obvious. I suppose the grabber arms were meant to lob rocks into them or something.

(I used them as prison cells, and as spaceship canopies for ships flown by robots, who had no need for anything as primitive as looking out the window.)

More subtle were the finned rocket cylinders embedded, for no clear reason, in the Robot Command Center's ankles, just above the skid-jets (borrowed from a more sensible vehicle) on which it, presumably very unsteadily, skated across the landscape.

(Completely embedded rocket parts were unusual, but Lego made a habit of putting rockets on ground vehicles. OK, perhaps the nozzles on this dude's classic Shovel Buggy are actually a horn that plays The Yellow Rose of Texas, but I doubt it. I mean, that wouldn't work in a vacuum, would it?)

The Robot Command Center spawned some more Big Ugly Robots. 1994's Robo Guardian was a notable example...

Lego Robo Guardian

...with a total of ten wheels, four of which were unable to touch the ground.

(Did they at least touch the other wheels, and so rotate in the opposite direction? Surely they weren't just hanging there...)

But unquestionably the Ugliest of the Big Ugly Robots hit the market three years later.

I present, with pride, the Robo Stalker.

Lego Robo Stalker

Egad.

But wait, there's one more.

One very special, very rare, very ugly spaceship.

Even most real Space Lego enthusiasts have never seen one of these in the flesh, because it was only available, in 1983, as a special promotion with (of all things) Persil laundry detergent. Well, that was the deal for the UK version of the set, anyway - it was apparently available in other countries with some similar deal.

On the plus side, you didn't have to send in any box tops - though you did have to send in £9.95, which is more than £24, about $US50, in today's money.

Lego set 1593

Behold - Set 1593!

(This is another one, like #1968, which has a set number but no name.)

Once you've finished wondering how drunk these little Lego men were when they decided to be seen in this thing, I really must insist you check out the full-size original image on the Lugnet site here, because this baby's just full of entertaining details.

The cockpit, for a start, has holes in it. Not just the ones you can see above the wing - there are two more on the sides below the wing, and one more gaping hole on the front of the cockpit under the wing. So it looks as if these little guys are going to have to keep their helmets on for the entirety of their mission. And they'd better watch out for space-birds.

Set 1593 also features two big main engines mounted on 2x2x2x2 brackets, which are flimsily attached to one-stud-wide rails. And there are ladder/grille pieces (radiators?) hanging down off the body in four places.

And, the finishing touch: On the top of the nose of the ship, directly behind the big skeletonised dish, is a two by two turntable.

With nothing on it.

It's just a little bit on the front of the ship that can turn round and round.

(Oh, and behind the front dish on the underside of the ship is what every sane Lego kid agreed was a dual laser gun... pointing backwards, at the pilot, through that hole in the front of the cockpit.)

As far as play value goes, this set is decent. That top-heavy land-crawler thing hooks onto the back of the ship (which doesn't make it look much better...), and there's a sort of base-station... cupboard... contraption, and various accessories.

But boy, is it ugly.

To make things even weirder, set 1593 apparently contains all of the parts from the perfectly decent 6880 Surface Explorer and the classic, Concorde-ish 6929 Starfleet Voyager. It would appear the latter crashed into the former at full speed, and 1593 - with its very own box and instructions - was the result.

But, as with every other one of these sets, you can always break it down for parts. And maybe build yourself a Surface Explorer and a Starfleet Voyager.

It's not as if even the ugliest of Lego sets is a stupid Death Star that turns into a giant Darth Vader robot for no reason at all. Any Lego set can be reassembled at will into whatever you want.

Which could be why they're still around, after fifty years.

"This may be your answer to the job problem!"

The Modern Mechanix blog's reprint of a December 1931 feature about Scientific Hoaxes that Have Fooled the World is entertaining in itself.

But, as I've said before, there's usually some more entertainment to be gained from the advertisements in these old magazines. And such is certainly the case this time.

On the third page of the Scientific Hoaxes piece, a proud graduate of the Federal School of Illustrating expresses his relief that, in those dark days of the Great Depression, "I'm a trained artist - and I've quit worrying"... about losing his job.

I like to think that even readers in 1931 would have been laughing at the supreme employability of guys who know how to draw.

(Page four of the feature has an ad offering you the chance to "Learn Electricity the McSweeny Way!" I am uncertain whether anybody who, when asked what they knew, said "Electricity!", has ever actually gotten a job.)

Security through graffiti

You know, writing your PIN number on the wall next to the ATM machine you usually use is not actually that bad an idea, as long as nobody sees you doing it, or notices you reading it.

Of course, you may well be screwed if someone paints the wall.

Like a vacuum cleaner with a puffer fish on the end

Ben Croshaw does not like "The Witcher".

That was an outcome you could pretty much see coming three years ago (and again), just because of the game's idiotic name. But this is one of the better Zero Punctuations nonetheless.

And this time there's an extra piece on the end of the review.

It's a bit rude.

Portraits Of Horror

When I read Michael Ciuffo's "Rip-off Photography" article, I did not immediately see everything wrong with the picture for which this unfortunate gentleman's mother paid hundreds of dollars.

Horrible portrait

OK, he looks like a huge dork. But I look like a caveman in photos. Big deal.

At a glance, you can see that the lighting on his face is strangely even, and he looks significantly airbrushed too. But there's more. Read the article for the rest. It's as entertaining as those Celebrities Before And After Photoshop pieces, in its own way.

(Don't miss Mike's ultimate guide to building a minifridge into a 1998 Toyota Corolla, either!)

By the usual standards of terrible studio portraits, though, Mike got off pretty lightly. List of the Day's Great Olan Mills Photos will scrub from your mind all memory of Mike's embarrassment, replacing it with things indescribable.

(When I was a kid, I had hair exactly like that of one of those children. Not for a thousand dollars would I tell you which one.)

What's a good portrait look like, you might ask?

Picture of me

Well, here's a picture my friend Katy took of me in 1998.

(I'm happy to say that I still look pretty much exactly like that, if a bit fatter now.)

On film, ambient light, subject significantly toasted on nitrous oxide at the time. Perhaps that's what warded off the Caveman Curse.

Katy's photo doesn't try to make me look like a matinee idol, or some insecure housewife posing for chaise-lounge-and-feather-boa "glamour" pictures. That, by itself, is half the battle.

I do feel obliged to mention, however, the pinnacle of my own experiments in self-portraiture to date.

Nosemonster!

If you click the mercifully small thumbnail, you'll get a 1024-pixel-wide version. I'm not even going to provide a link to the 2048-pixel-wide version; edit the URL yourself if you simply must see it.

All you need is a fisheye lens, and you too can see yourself as an urRu!