I'm happy to report that it's time for another installment of The Docket of the Absurd. Today's case comes to us courtesy of this week's web hero, Mike Rowe. Mike is a high school student in Vancouver who decided to launch a web site to practice his web development skills and offer his services to the world. He chose a rather cute name for his site: mikerowesoft.com.

Do I even need to say where this is going? Naturally, Microsoft is now suing him for trademark violation. Let's be fair -- Microsoft first offered the kid a ten dollar settlement if he would surrender the domain to them (ten dollars being his original registration costs). Mike Rowe refused, hence lawsuit.

We can immediately claim that Microsoft's lawsuit is a frivolous attack on an innocent kid. I mean, he wasn't hurting anyone. But that argument is naive. You have to take US trademark law into account. Trademark law operates on a "use it or lose it" basis: you are required to vigorously defend your mark against all infringement, or it passes into the public domain (I believe kleenex and xerox are notable examples). The last paragraph in one newspaper article reads thus:

However, one reader correctly points out that, under US law, Microsoft has no choice but to pursue a trademark case against Rowe because if it ignores his site, the company will lose its right to fight against trademark infringements that may occur in the future.

The annoying thing is that the above argument is crap. As I explained in an earlier entry about Intel and Yoga Inside, you only have to go to court if this really is a case of infringement. If it isn't, your only risk is in having to defend the name mikerowesoft as non-infringing in some hypothetical future case. If you take an overly territorial view of your trademark, then surely you should constantly be suing every company in the world, however different their names, just to show that you're defending your mark!

So we are left asking: is Mike Rowe infringing on Microsoft's trademark? Well, all Microsoft has to prove is that customers are getting confused between the two names and that they're losing business to mikerowesoft as a result. As another person pointed out in a newspaper article, doesn't that force Microsoft to adopt a rather low opinion of the intellect of its customers?

[update: 20 January at 11:32]: Doug mentions that after refusing Microsoft's initial ten dollar settlement, Mike Rowe offered to sell them the domain for ten thousand dollars, thus making him look like a money grubbing goober. Uh, way to go, Mike.

[update: 21 January at 09:04]: I should be a bit more cautious when posting about the Internet Celebrity Du Jour, and remember that notoriety too often precedes reality on the web. Writing from Victoria, Rebeca grudgingly admits that Mike Rowe is from Sooke (on the Island), not Vancouver. She also points out that he admitted on CBC to being fully aware of the pun when registering his domain. Presumably that hurts his case a little, though the burden is still on Microsoft to establish that Mike Rowe is taking business away from them. Microsoft still isn't high on my corporate virtue list, but I suppose they can make a case for why they're making a case. I should save my ranting energies for real problems with intellectual property law, like SCO vs. Linux or MPAA vs. 2600 or RIAA vs. The Earth.

I also figured out how to turn Zebula into an instant net celebrity. I'll register a bunch of cybersquatting domains in her name. Then, when the companies start filing lawsuits, I'll yell, "She's just a baby! A little baby!! Where is your humanity?"

Regular readers will know that although I have a wonderful little baby girl, I rarely go on about her here in this forum. In fact, I think I've only mentioned her in a handful of posts over her sixteen months here on earth. So you'll forgive me if I gush for a moment.

Nath's gone out in the evenings yesterday and today, and I've looked after Zebula from the end of dinner until her bedtime (which I confess isn't really a very long time). I give her a bath, put her in her PJs, and give her some milk and read her stories. Then it's upstairs for brushing of teeth, a song or two, and bed. That's it. She's content throughout the process. She's still awake when I put her in her crib, but she lies there peacefully until she falls asleep. Then she sleeps for twelve hours straight. Sometimes more.

I'm really nervous about jinxing myself, so let me say it: this is pure, dumb luck. Nath and I have absolutely nothing to do with it. Our baby's temperment does not follow from any deliberate approach to parenting that we undertook. She's a wonderful baby, and I'm a lucky father.

I also want to mention that there's a laundry chute in the bathroom where she takes her bath. She picks up all her clothes, opens the door to the chute, puts the clothes in, and closes the door. How cute is that? It'll probably be less cute later, when she tries to stuff in cats, siblings, etc.

As part of a grad course I'm teaching, I presented material from V.S. Ramachandran's paper The Science of Art. Now, I had previously read the paper and seen one or two presentations about it. All in all, it's thought-provoking and I can see why it generated so much controversy among psychologists, cognitive scientists, and writers on art. To summarize, Ramachandran is a neurologist who proposes eight "principles of art". What's interesting about his principles is that they are not developed purely from introspection, but are backed up by a modern understanding of the brain and animal behaviour. Where philosophers of past centuries could merely state their beliefs, he proposes to test his principles experimentally.

While trying to dig up more information on this subject, I also discovered that Ramachandran delivered the prestigious Reith lectures last year on the BBC. The lectures are all available online in streaming format (try this link for pointers to the lectures and the full text of the associated articles). And they're dynamite. Incredibly good. A Nova's Nova. I've been pushing them on everyone, and Thingo readers should be no exception. Ramachandran is an excellent speaker (with a great speaking voice, too) who talks about fascinating aspects of the mind. One lecture is about his theory on art. Another deals with synaesthesia (a hard-wired association between disparate forms of sensory input). Deeply interesting. Go listen to all the lectures. As my father would say, "it boggles the mind".

I've had a couple of requests from readers for pictures of the new house. Well, December 31st was a nice day here, so I took a couple of photos for your viewing pleasure. These are just of the outside of the house. If I get inspired at some point, maybe I'll do the inside as well.

The view from the street. You can see our large collection of shrubbery in front and a tall evergreen in back. The driveway on the left leads to a covered, gated carport. The mailbox on the top step is absolutely precious -- it's a miniature model of the house.

The less exciting view from the backyard. The yard is deep and ends with more greenery that you can't see. I'm very happy about the beautiful birch tree, which achieved a healthy maturity through constant coddling by the previous owners.

I'm still searching for a good name for the house, moreso after reading Neal Stephenson's Quicksilver where everyone who's anyone lives in a house that has a name. Feel free to send in your suggestions.

It's fair to compare the building where I work with the USS Enterprise. It has a futuristic look to it. It's filled with big fancy computers. The windows don't open. It experiences frequent breakdowns in basic life-support services. The big difference is that the hallways are straight in my building, not curved as they are on the Enterprise.

But there is one similarity in particular to which I would like to draw your attention. As with the Enterprise, my building doesn't seem to have any bathrooms.

Okay, I admit that there are bathrooms and that I know where they are. But the building was definitely not designed with the eliminatory needs of its occupants in mind. Except for one large bathroom on the main floor, toilets seem to have been added to the building as an afterthought, tucked in where the architect could open up some room. It's especially bad for a man in need of a sit-down, since potential stall space is largely given over to urinals. In fact, I estimate that the entire building contains twelve toilet stalls for men. And that's for what must be hundreds, if not thousands of men who occupy the building every day. Trying to find an empty stall in the hour or two after lunch is a particularly, er, pressing problem.

This matter was brought to the fore today because although the building was nearly empty, the maintenance staff is on holiday and consequently none of the bathrooms had any toilet paper. I ended up visiting an adjacent building to use the facilities.