I cannot believe I am having to say this.

People, listen up:

This shit, right here? Is copyrighted.

Just because it doesn't have a copyright notice at the bottom of the page doesn't mean it's not copyrighted. Just because I don't have a widget that says I have a Creative Commons license doesn't mean that I don't. And just because you can repost my shit--this shit, right here--and maybe have two or three days or a month before I find it does not mean that I won't find it.

I can use Google as well as anybody else. Plus, I have minions all over the Interwebs. Plus-plus, there are ways of finding out if somebody's snagged this shit right here and reposted it without credit.

I don't mind sharing this shit if you just ask me. Credit me as Jo, or credit the shit as having come from Head Nurse, and I'm cool. Send me an after-the-fact heads-up saying, "Yo, bitch, I reposted your shit on Name Of Blog" and we're all good. Just don't post my shit like it's your shit. Even if it's in company with other really cool shit, like stuff from H&1/2 or Whoopee.

What the hell can I do, you ask? Well, honestly, not much. I suppose I could hit you with a C&D snowball, but what the hell: the Internet is a wild place, and it's best that way, and really, there's nothing much legally I could do to your lousy ass that would stick. Copyright-infringement lawsuits are generally not bumped to the top of anybody's docket ahead of, you know, gruesome murders of multiple small animals, or anything.

Kharma, however, will bite you in the ass. You will develop the Internet version of psoriasis, or end up with hemorrhoids large enough to qualify for their own ZIP code, and/or develop a nasty rash that will be public enough and weepy enough to prevent you from ever getting laid again. Ever. Your dick will shrink to the diameter and length of my little finger at the same time that your thighs suddenly grow thick, dark, wiry hair unlike any hair on the rest of your body.

You will have really, really bad breath. That's how serious Kharma takes this stuff.

So cut it out. Don't repost my shit without permission. I'm easy, I swear, and there are plenty of guys out there who'll swear it along with me.

In short: ask, and we're cool. Don't ask, and be prepared for termites, locusts, hemorrhoids, and total lack of sexual stimulation for the rest of your life.

Leave the blog. Take the cannoli.