MegaUpload Shut Down and the Future of File Sharing

Stephanie Makin

Luna Magazine

Just days after the arrest of MegaUpload founder and (mega millionaire) Kim Dotcom, the future of file sharing websites lies in doubt, with many changing tactics or running for cover this week.

The MegaUpload boss, formerly known as Kim Schmitz, and three others were arrested last Friday, indicted on charges of profiting from the distribution of copyrighted music, movies and other counterfeit content, as well as openly encouraging it with an ‘Uploader Rewards Program’ offering cash incentives to users who stored the most downloaded files on the site.

Police raided Dotcom’s lavish New Zealand country estate at the request of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, eventually cutting him out of a safe room he had barricaded himself in, holding a shotgun.

Ironically the arrest, reminiscent of a Hollywood movie, followed a push from entertainment industry heavy weights to crack down on Internet piracy, which in but a few…

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Factually fictitious

Myriad are the ways of creation,
And prickly, as ever, the almagation.

Ain’t it hard to spot a speck?
The self seems to be so perfect.

Over-populating theses
with over populated geniuses;
Never finding any common ground
to spin the circle round.

What’s the mantra modern?
Overlooked has been the sub-urban.

It all looks well on paper;
Defacing are for paupers!

I am tired but I am not bound.
Spiritualised but nothing’s sound.

The soul is created the same;
Our reluctance is all but a shame.

Tips & Tricks of a Dry Man

Experience is a master teacher
And life indeed gets much richer;

Genius is he, who knows from postures
And disguised is his ways to beat the masters!

Naiveté were we in virgin years, 
only to be skinned alive by the predator.

The Probability theory of being tortured/harassed by a mere presence of a friend is almost a null set. Most of us sane people would agree with that without going for third-party arbitrations.
But please do verify with people who had lived that kind of lives. I admit I was one among the survivors, no pun intended. It was kind of hell. It was like, you were suffering and you had no detectable diagnosis. It was like, you saw a crime but you had no tangible proofs to prove it. But all along, it was getting quite unbearable. Every second of the ticking clock added woes intolerable.

The dry man is, as it always happens, a sweet-natured guy with a circle (never less than a continent long diameter) of friends. Do not be surprised if he happens to know all the who’s & who’s you mention (only to curse yourself of your big mouth later), or all the topics you smartly raise for an intelligent brainstorming or the latest gadgets hitting the market, …or the latest trends of fashion fever…..the bill, hotly being debated in the winter session of the parliament, the latest chick in town (either she is his friend or his relative or an aunt’s daughter’s son’s cousin….and being unable to connect or understand you end up concluding/surrendering that the whole world is a joint family……with pyramidal  hierarchy of  relatives, and that must be a major contributing factor for a majority of my friends to be still bachelors….I somehow unsubscribed my membership from that exclusive high-profile Club)

He ain’t telling no lies or he ain’t telling no truths. He can’t be judged and he can’t be questioned. His conscience never worries him because he never hurts anyone visibly, and nobody seems to be aware of it and he would definitely be the last person to be aware if any such Awareness Campaign does even exist!

He practically sleeps your bed, eats your meal, breathes your air, showers your bath, shits your shit and symbolically replaces your shadow. He laughs your laughter, cries your tears, & echoes your views. You become his fashion idol, an icon…a role model. You see yourself when you reluctantly look at him quite hating the reflection it mirrors you back, though. He silently but forcefully starts pushing his stories….a sympathetic opening to a aggrandized closure…for that matter, there would never be a closure…ALLAH willing.

His reputation spreads like wild-fire. Monday, he is the protective brother, Tuesday, he is the submissive brother, Wednesday, he is the good-natured neighbor who runs your errands, Thursday, he is a sports enthusiast, Friday, he is collecting rare unreleased garage recordings by FRANK ZAPPA, Saturday, he is spiritual & Sunday, he dabbles with Metz. Weeks go on with no repetition of activities detailed above but with a different trending unique. His everyday is a regular day for a different person he emulates.

So, it always remained a challenge to try on the new pair of WOODLAND shoes you lovingly bought, or to try the latest RADIOHEAD’s Pablo Honey which was the coolest thing to do so. It was hard to sport that new hair crop you had wished for quite a long time lest you found your dry man standing before you as an alter ego.

The Guru

Driving home the real points of view of factual details past and the present, I fondly remember my friend as an expert in the highly dangerous and risky form of martial arts…WUSU, the other being Jet Lee. Being a fighter par excellence, his flexibility is unparalleled which is as obvious as concluding that he should be a great dancer too.

Reflecting on days gone by, he was quite a rage among the dancing circuits. Many instances could be cited where I could still explain in so many words or paint in so many colors. But one particular incident stood out…… a New Year party, with passes for students in a suburb resort in A’bad where alcohol flows freely. Our dancer friend is at his highest best, I doubt it wasn’t the alcohol, you know some guys just got excited with just a whiff of the smell of a perfume of a lady. Well, you know the story of a Casanova, he was good looking though his hair-line was receding in a supersonic speed.

Legend has it that he was born in a warrior clan. Naturally, blue blood ran in his anger filled veins. Fighting was his instinct, the only thing he knew and was trained for life.  But the master had one weakness….the inability to control his wrath! In many display of his skills in places as varied as China to Japan (where he was rumored to have tasted snake’s blood), he was not able to treat the opponent as just another participant in the game. He vented out all his wrath to the poor participating victims. This finally ousted him out from the fighting fraternity only to be adjusted among dummy demonstrators.