The recognition of the responsibility of cyber media is upon us.
What we print, or allow to be printed, is clearly now definitive. Cyber defamation, or stalking, defamatory harassment on message boards or on blogs is now recognised as the responsibility, of the author, the publisher or re publisher. The net result of 'I didn't say it', or that 'I thought someone else was responsible' for what someone publishes is now officially on the dung heap. What you say and what you have said is the millstone around your neck, particularly if you thought you could defame and harass others in cyberspace because it was like a 'chat in the pub' as the lard arse osook once presented.
From Judge Harvey's decision today, making judgement on whaleoil the over blown cyber ghost, we now see the damage to an individual or the breach of an order of law is not somehow forgiven by 'I didn't know' or 'I copied from somewhere else' or 'it's what I believed as free speech' is abreast of the times. The rights of an individual and due process regain their foothold. The wild west of cyberspace is corralled. One step at a time of course, but the ramifications are clear - the speaker, or writer, or re printer is responsible for their own words, just the way it should be.
I bet the sisters are pleased.
The sisters are too busy working out where everybody has gone, and why they left, to pay any attention to Judge Harvey's warnings.
ReplyDeleteThey failed to listen when they were warned about the squeaky door, and now it's slammed trapping them all in their own filthy slime ridden room, you can bet Camp Mother, will try and find someone else to blame the lack of maintenance on. But Harvey's got that one covered to.
Your room, your responsibility, it doesn't matter who owns the building.
All that dirt they swept under the free speech rug, is going to trip them up, on the way to the fire escape. It's going to be blue wigs, false teeth and wincyette bloomers scattered in a big counterspining heap.
Maybe then one or two of them might understand, why they were left in the room all alone. :-)
I sort of feel nostalgic about goobergolfs and ninas wincyette bloomers, the square metres of which were able to provide sails for a whole
ReplyDeleteAmericas Cup Contest and enough blankets for the Infantry Reserve of the 3rd Battalion. We may never see bloomers so large again and I think it's an appropriate time to place on the record recognition of the gigantic size of those pink, re-used bloomers the sisters once wore.
I feel a psychic episode descending upon me...
ReplyDelete*wafts incense*
What do I see? I see a room... yes, an office. An office full of young people in casual clothes. Through the open door I can see a pool table and an inflatable green alien among tables with computers...a space redolent with earnest frivolity.
But in the room there is no frivolity. There are frowns and worried looks. An analyst recites from Judge Harvey's ruling. Pens scribble furiously on paper. There is no laughter. Someone says quietly: "Oh shit!".