For those casting about for jobs that do not eat at their souls, Slashdot’s got a nifty thread going on the matter, inspired ironically by a book from one of the world’s most annoying authors (confidential to RS — yeah, that guy I tried to get Mom to interview for the Weekly). It’s skewed slightly geekward but I think most bright folk can appreciate the universality of much of it.

The Economist sums it all up for you: Copyright’s in hell right now, it’s only going to get worse, so why not roll back to the original 14-year span and focus on protecting the hell out of the stuff that falls into that basket? It’s a positively Solomonic impulse, and quite possibly the only sane thing I’ll read this week. (I’d go even farther in fact: Considering how much the average lifespan has increased since the original term was set, I say we could decree a 28-year span with no harm done to any party. Who’s with me?!)

Read this one bottom-to-top: Florida Today was doing a sort of blog of the shuttle landing starting several days beforehand. Heartbreaking.

How The Other Half Lives (or, Why the public thinks most journalists, particularly those of the television variety, are insular jackasses): Aaron Brown’s golfing. Space shuttle disintegrates. Aaron Brown tells his bosses he can’t get his overpaid ass to work ’cause he’s playing golf, and tells a reporter afterwards that it was okay ’cause he didn’t have much fun at it ’cause of all those people being sad and stuff. At the moment I’ve got a seriously disturbing case of bronchitis, a deadline in two hours (along with all the other deadlines I’ve hit in the past three days), around 60 hours of research logged on an 800-word item, and the plaintive wish that Ted would come take his company back and haul bitch prima donnas like Brown to the Atlanta woodshed. It could only help. [UPDATE: Now Brown’s saying it didn’t happen, and he was… um… doing stuff. Reason, excuse, or PR retrenchment?]

Sarah Bunting’s always a delight, but her Columbia essay’s outstanding. Somebody get this woman a syndication deal.

From the Gold-From-Dross files (you understand this “file this file that” tic is just compensation for the current condition of my office, right?): Freeman Dyson uses the latest Michael Crichton book as a springboard to talk about something interesting; namely, his debate with Bill Joy on the dangers of nanotechnology.

From the Ow-My-Neck files: Folks in East Texas are already complaining about respiratory distress and burns from shuttle debris; surely the lawsuits are not far off. (Disgusting, isn’t it, that some people assume that any contact with a tragedy makes it a tragedy about them, by which they mean a chance to win a settlement sufficient to upgrade their doublewide?) About the breathing problems I’ll withhold judgment (even though I have significant doubts), but burns? Excuse me, you dumb rednecks, but did you get the message about NOT TOUCHING THAT STUFF?! (Of course, this sort of retardation may be a Texas specialty: Bush’s Pentagon’s got an idea about playing with “usable” nuclear warheads. Attention Texans! Shuttle wreckage is dangerous, don’t touch. Nuclear bombs are dangerous, don’t detonate. This means you, bubba; wishing doesn’t make you radiation-proof.)

The Boston Globe’s got a not-bad piece today on how Google has for many practical purposes already ended what we like to think of as privacy. Would’ve been stronger if the writer had a) namechecked archive.org and/or b) followed the privacy thread to its clear conclusion, but the article’s still worth reading.

The Velocitors have issued an official statement and their owner is glued to the news wires. Now, a trivial-pursuit moment: As you may know, the other two fatal space-program accidents occured on 28 January 1986 and 27 January 1967. My random, brain-helplessly-spinning question is for you professional astrologers out there, many of whom are doubtless preparing your after-the-fact “predictions” for the usual Weekly-World-Enquirer-Star outlets: Isn’t the so-called Age of Aquarius supposed to be good for space exploration? No need to answer; just doing my little part here, as the mystics and conspiracy theorists gear up their game, to tamp down a bit of FUD in advance.

John Snyder, a NARAS board member, is seriously speaking truth today on Salon. This essay’s got everything from good horse sense to flagrant ranking on the RIAA. Summary: If the music industry goes down, it sure ain’t for lack of warning.