Last night, I had a dream... [....] In my dream, I'm ranting to someone about the pathetic state of copyright. I'm incensed about just how absurdly long copyright lasts, and I'm trying to give them a perspective on just how crazy the length is:
TradeMark: "Let me give you an example: Let's say right now, I write a short story right here in front of you. It's automatically copyright the moment I finish it (or even if I don't) because things are presumed to be copyright unless you explicitly say otherwise. This short story will remain in the restrictive binds of copyright for the rest of my life PLUS another 90 -- yes NINETY -- years!! That's like until the year 2150!!!"
...and I start cracking up when I try to complete the rant with... "For chrissakes, by then we'll have evolved into beings of pure energy and light and won't NEED F[ ]CKING COPYRIGHT!!"