We’ve been covering the mass copyright infringement lawsuits being filed in the US over the past year or so. Most of them aren’t designed with the idea of actually taking anyone to court, but mainly to threaten people into “settling” (i.e., paying up) to avoid the lawsuit. A “concerned citizen” hoping to remain anonymous has taken the time to put together an amazingly detailed spreadsheet cataloging all of these lawsuits. He claims that he will continue to keep it updated. One stunning point from the data? Between January 1, 2010 and now, 99,924 “John Does” have been sued in this manner. If I don’t hurry up and publish this post, I imagine we’ll have already passed 100,000.

While many of the John Doe cases have been dismissed, the spreadsheet shows that 70,914 have not yet been dismissed, so there are plenty to go. When 100,000 people are getting sued anonymously by just a few firms, at what point do the courts and politicians realize that something is broken with the law?

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Techdirt Mike Masnick

Boston can be a sleepy little legal community at times.  And a good trademark case isn’t likely to wake-up too many lawyers, but I took notice when I saw this story about an interesting trademark case (well, interesting to me at least) taking shape in Washington, D.C. involving a 60 year old Massachusetts non-profit corporation.

Apparently, The American Legion (“TAL”), which owns a trademark in the term “The American Legion,” has decided to sue The Greek-American Legion of Massachusetts, Inc. (“TGALM”) in the D.C. federal district court (where TAL is based) alleging infringement over TGALM’s use of the mark.  According to the complaint, TAL contacted TGALM several times in 2010 about its use of the mark, but the parties were unable to reach a resolution.  So naturally TAL eventually filed suit in D.C. (thereby robbing TGALM of the opportunity it had to at least file suit in its home turf of Massachusetts).  Such is often the danger of a tit-for-tat exchange when the opposing party is located in a different state.

Anyway, what makes the case interesting is that TAL has an exclusive statutory right under  36 U.S.C. 21705 to use The American Legion name, which it has been using since 1919—a long time, to be sure.  However, TGALM has, according to records at the Secretary of the Commonwealth’s office, been in existence in Massachusetts since 1946 and has (presumably) been using its name continuously during that time.  Interestingly, that little tidbit didn’t make into TAL’s complaint.  The omission wasn’t accidental.

Obviously, given that this is a blog post only, I haven’t researched the specifics of the case and the statute upon which TAL relies (and when it passed), but it sure seems to me that TAL is awfully late to the party to now contest TGALM’s use of The American Legion mark.  I can easily see how it could take a few years in some circumstances for a trademark holder to become aware of another user of its mark, but over 60 years?  Someone at TAL wasn’t doing their job—to put it mildly—to police the mark’s use.  And even though one of TAL’s main registrations didn’t issue from the USPTO until 2000, it has used the mark since 1919.  (And why the long delay in registering it anyway?)

Even a basic trademark search report, which typically culls over the names of companies registered in all 50 states, should have picked-up on the mark a long time ago.  Did TAL ever do one?  Even a free search in various online search engines might have picked-up on the mark.  Has anyone at TAL ever used—what’s that little search engine called again—oh yeah … Google?  Somebody at TAL was asleep for a long time. 

The point is this:  Notwithstanding TAL’s claim to exclusive statutory use, no right is absolute and there may be strong defenses available to TGALM such as waiver, estoppel, and laches.  Laches in particular may be a strong argument.  Laches is a defense that amounts to unreasonable delay by a plaintiff in bringing suit and pursuing a claim such that it significantly prejudices the other party.  In trademark law, if the other party has built a substantial amount of goodwill in its mark, then the plaintiff may be out of luck because it sat on its hands for too long. 

And after 60 years of TGALM using its own name, I think it’s reasonable to conclude that it built a great deal of goodwill in the name of its organization.  Even if TAL only recently became aware of TGALM, the question is whether it should have known about the organization much sooner.  Besides, TAL would still have to show “likelihood of confusion” and it would be interesting to see if there was any evidence of actual confusion given the long co-existence of the two organizations—some courts do look at that factor.  It will be interesting to see if TGALM will be forced to change its name by the district court.  Unless of course there’s some type of confidential settlement.  That would just be a bummer to trademark geeks like me.

Don’t get me wrong.  I don’t mind the RIAA.  As a technology and internet lawyer who makes my living in and out of court trying to protect the intellectual property rights of my clients, I generally support the RIAA’s efforts to keep people from stealing music and infringing the copyrights of others—although the organization can get a bit too overzealous at times.  I’m starting to wonder, however, if perhaps the RIAA’s overzealousness is starting to cross the line into outright delusion, stupidity, or both.  They certainly keep their lawyers busy though.

Now the RIAA is making veiled legal threats against ICANN over the introduction of a “.music” domain name.  The RIAA’s deputy general counsel, Victoria Sheckler, informed ICANN that such a gTLD “will be used to enable wide scale copyright and trademark infringement.”  Actually, “informed” is too nice a word given the rest of her letter: 

We strongly urge you to take these concerns seriously….We prefer a practical a practical solution to these issues, and hope to avoid the need to escalate the issue further.

As you’re probably aware, “escalate” is legalese for “sue your ass.”  But come again?  How does a .music domain name ”enable” infringement?  As I recall, the RIAA has sued an awful lot of people over the years who have downloaded music from sites with .com and numerous other extensions.  So how does a .music gTLD change that in any way? 

If anything, a .music domain name might help consolidate all of the infringers in one place, kind of like a canyon with the snipers located above, and thereby allow the RIAA’s lawyers to pick them off as they see fit.  Of course, outright infringers would likely avoid using such an obvious domain name anyway and stick to the names they’ve been using for—oh, I don’t know—maybe the last decade or so before a .music name was ever contemplated.  (But then again, as an attorney I’ve learned never to underestimate the stupidity or chutzpah of people.)  And of course, the RIAA seems to forget that there are a ton of amateur musicians and bands out there who have no problem with people downloading their music for free and would readily take the opportunity to register a .music domain name.

In terms of potential trademark infringement, I have no doubt that many cybersquatters would try to register the .music names of famous bands and musicians.  But most won’t get very far given the ICANN domain name dispute resolution policy.  Or the even more far-reaching Anti-Cybersquatting Consumer Protection Act.  So the RIAA needs to chill.  What they really seem to be trying to do is to get ICANN to somehow implement copyright protections or to police the .music name for infringers.  But isn’t that the RIAA’s job?  And haven’t they done it well over the years? 

I can’t believe that ICANN would, could, or ever be forced to assume such a massive compliance burden.  This isn’t a situation like Napster where there was a single website facilitating infringement (which had nothing to do with ICANN).  The RIAA is essentially suggesting that ICANN monitor an entire gTLD for the infringing activities of, well, everyone who uses it.  And even if that were possible or within the purview of ICANN’s official responsibilities (which it’s not), what’s to stop the RIAA from then trying to extend ICANN’s efforts into all of the the other gTLDs that exist…or will exist?  Slippery slopes I can deal with, but slippery cliffs are another matter.  In any instance, a lawsuit against ICANN is something that the RIAA may want to think carefully about before pursuing.  Not that they will, mind you.  Their lawyers are kept very busy indeed.

Shakespeare said it first:  “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”  And a domain name by any extension could smell as rotten as any other.  And if people want to use it for illegal purposes, they’ll do it regardless.  As for me, I can’t wait until that proposed ”.xxx” gTLD finally becomes operational.  I just can’t find the porn I’m looking for without it.

In Masters v UHS of Delaware Inc, the US Court of Appeals for the Eighth Circuit has affirmed the district court’s verdict of $2.4 million in favour of plaintiff Mary Masters on her claims of trademark infringement of the mark MASTERS AND JOHNSON. Among other things, the Eighth Circuit found that proof of actual confusion was not necessary to sustain monetary relief.

World Trademark Review World Trademark Review

There was a time about 15 years ago or so that requesting an opposing party’s e-mail in litigation was considered to be unusual and out-of-the-ordinary.  Not anymore.  As e-mail use grew—if not exploded in the 1990s—discovery rules have evolved as well and now most courts require e-mail and other e-discovery to be produced just like any other paper document.  (In fact, there is a whole comprehensive area of technology and internet law that has developed just around e-discovery.)  And just as parties can be sanctioned for not turning over relevant hard copy documents, failing to produce e-mails can have serious consequences for both lawyers and litigants.

According to a recent article and study by King & Spaulding, which examined numerous 2009 federal decisions addressing e-discovery violations and sanctions, the study’s authors found that “sanction awards for e-discovery violations have been trending ever-upward for the last 10 years and have now reached historic highs.”  Sanctions included susbstantial monetary awards (bad enough), adverse jury instructions (very bad), and case dismissals (the worst).  The monetary sanctions were as high as $5 million in some instances.  That’s serious pocket change no matter who you are and indicates how seriously courts view a party’s compliance obligations.

According to the study, defendants were sanctioned almost 3 times as often as plaintiffs were.  That’s not really a shocker.  Defendants don’t enjoy being sued (not surprisingly) and will put up all sorts of obstacles during the discovery process.  Smart and ethical defense counsel will try not to let that happen, but I’ve seen instances where defendants aren’t even honest with their own attorneys when it comes to giving them the information they need to comply with their clients’ own discovery obligations.

The most common misconduct identified in the study was failing to preserve electronic evidence, failing to produce the records altogether, or delaying the production.  Lawyers were typically sanctioned along with their clients, and the sanction included payment of the opposing party’s attorneys’ fees and costs (which ranged from $500 to $500,000). 

By sanctioning attorneys as well, courts are sending a very clear message that the lawyers must be actively involved in the discovery process and must, of course, act properly throughout.  And the discovery process can at times be daunting given the huge number of e-mails, instant messages, and other e-documents—which could easily be in the millions in some large cases—that may have to be produced.  Nevertheless, counsel must be engaged in the process throughout.  It’s easy to see how litigation can get so costly, isn’t it (even without the sanctions)?

The article also mentions another study by Gibson Dunn which looked at these issues in 2010 and found that the imposition of e-discovery sanctions have declined somewhat from 2009, e.g., courts (both state and federal) granted sanctions 55% of the time in 2010, as opposed to 70% in 2009.  Increased calls for discovery reform could be part of the reason.

In reality, however, I don’t find such a decline to be all that comforting (assuming it’s tangible at all).  A 55% chance of being sanctioned isn’t exactly something that you can “brag” about to a non-complying client, and lawyers are well-advised to discuss the serious consequences of non-compliance with recalcitrant clients.  And of course, clients are particularly well-advised to let lawyers do their job.  Or everyone ends up paying the price.

Stories abound in the media about how lawyers abuse the legal process.  But judges do so as well—although perhaps not as frequently—and attorneys often can’t do much about it (at least not quickly).  Such was the case for a judge in Tennessee who was reprimanded by state authorities for “excessive delay” after waiting nearly 11 years to rule on a case. 

“Excessive delay.”  Ya think?  Not 11 weeks.  Or 11 Months.  But 11 YEARS.  Judge F. Lee Russell took a case under advisement in 1999 and didn’t rule on it until October of 2010—and only after he learned that he was facing discipline.  Absolutely unbelievable and inexcusable.  And needless to say, not very judicious.

It’s hard to believe he was only reprimanded and not forced to resign.  If a lawyer waited that long to do something (if that were even possible), not only would he rightly be sued for malpractice, but his disciplinary punishment would likely be far more severe than a mere reprimand. 

What’s most egregious is that Judge Russell apparently didn’t grasp that his behavior affected the lives of the litigants.  Most lawyers understand this all too well.  Waiting for a judge to issue a ruling is never much fun, but that’s precisely what the end result of litigation is all about.  As the old saying goes, “justice delayed is justice denied.”  But the adage was never intended to be applied to a ridiculous case like this.  Shame on this judge and on the Tennessee disciplinary authority for only giving him a slap on the wrist.  Objection!

When I heard the Author’s Guild claim that Amazon’s new Kindle 2 text-to-speech feature violated an author’s copyright, all I could first think of was . . . good grief.  And being a lawyer with a good stable of Yiddish terms, the phrases “oy vey” and “meshugenah” came to mind also.  This nifty feature allows the Kindle to read the e-book’s text to the user in a computer-generated voice.  But Paul Aiken, the Guild’s Executive Director, stated very matter-of-factly:  “They don’t have the right to read a book out loud.”  

There’s something inherently silly about this statement which makes me want to unequivocally proclaim: “That’s ridiculous!”  After all, when you buy a book, you certainly have a right to read it out loud, whether to yourself, your children, your colleagues, or to the friends in your book club.  This is a “fair use.”  Is it really that different if a machine does it for you—at least in this limited instance?

You probably already know that you don’t have the right under copyright law to publicly perform a literary work.  You can’t, for example, hold a public gathering open to all and begin reading salient portions of a book out loud for all to hear solely for the purpose of disseminating it (and for no other reason).  This would almost certainly constitute infringement.  And you also couldn’t record yourself reading the book out loud to your children or friends and then sell or give away the recording.  That would be infringement also.

Aiken, however, isn’t raising the public performance or the recording issues (at least not directly).  Rather, he’s claiming that the Kindle’s speech feature creates a “derivative work.”  This seems like a bit of a stretch, but not a wholly unreasonable one.  As I’ve said before, intellectual property law is a highly nuanced area of practice, and many courts don’t see eye-to-eye on these issues.  Easy answers are usually elusive, even though common sense may compel a rush to judgment.  Let’s take a look at the issue.  Under the Copyright Act, a derivative work is defined as:

A work based upon one or more preexisting works, such as a translation, musical arrangement, dramatization, fictionalization, motion picture version, sound recording, art reproduction, abridgment, condensation, or any other form in which a work may be recast, transformed, or adapted. A work consisting of editorial revisions, annotations, elaborations, or other modifications which, as a whole, represent an original work of authorship, is a “derivative work”.

17 U.S.C. § 101 (emphasis added).  At first blush, it doesn’t seem to me that a device which reads a book’s text out loud to a person who lawfully possesses the copy would meet the “original work of authorship” test. 

For example, it makes sense why translating a book from one language to another is a derivative work.  It takes a certain degree of deliberate judgment and choice on behalf of those translating a book for a different audience to convey what the author is trying to express.  This would meet the minimum level of creativity needed for originality.  But that’s not the case here with the Kindle.  (For the moment, I’ll sidestep the more difficult question of whether automatic translation software creates a derivative work.  If the Kindle was translating the book AND then reading it aloud, it would present a more complicated issue.)

But the originality question here is a deceptively simple one, and some of the analyses I’ve read so far—in their somewhat understandable quest to show that common sense should dictate that the law respond with a resounding, “NO” in this instance—overlook subtle distinctions which need to be analyzed carefully.

Michael Kwun of the Electronic Frontier Foundation takes the position that there’s no way a derivative work could be created due to the originality requirement.  While he may ultimately be correct in the result, his analysis fails to take into account several factors.  For example, he confidently cites the case of Lewis Galoob Toys, Inc. v. Nintendo of America, Inc., 964 F.2d 965 (9th Cir. 1992), for the proposition that a derivative work “must incorporate a protected work in some concrete or permanent ‘form,’” which he argues that the Kindle’s audio feature fails to do as no recording is ever made. 

While the Galoob court stated this, it also noted that, “[a] derivative work must be fixed to be protected under the act . . . but not to infringe.” (emphasis in original).  Thus, in order for it to be copyrightable, the derivative work has to be fixed, but if it infringes it doesn’t have to be—yet it must be in some “concrete or permanent form.”

If this distinction seems fleeting to you, you’re not alone.  Kwun fails to note that other courts have disagreed with the 9th Circuit’s approach.  For instance, in Lee v. Deck the Walls, Inc., 925 F. Supp. 576 (N.D. Ill. 1996), an Illinois district court expressly rejected this rationale:

Respectfully, the Ninth Circuit’s determination of a dual definition (1) “risks that courts will naively apply this broad definition to find activities infringing that are more properly viewed as altogether beyond the scope of copyright,” . . . and (2) ignores the definition of a “derivative work” found in § 101, in which Congress specifically included an originality requirement.

In affirming the Lee court’s holding, the 7th Circuit (in Lee v. A.R.T. Co., 125 F.3d 580 (7th Cir. 1997)) also found the 9th Circuit’s approach to be lacking: 

If Lee (and the ninth circuit) are right about what counts as a derivative work, then the United States has established through the back door an extraordinarily broad version of authors’ moral rights, under which artists may block any modification of their works of which they disapprove.

Moreover, the 9th Circuit seems to have significantly loosened the originality requirement for derivative works in Mirage Editions, Inc. v. Albuquerque A.R.T. Co., 856 F.2d 1341 (9th Cir. 1988).  There the court found that a company which purchased legitimate copies of the plaintiff’s artwork and glued them onto ceramic tiles, which it then resold, was creating illegal derivative works.  This case has also been met with significant criticism by courts and commentators due to the lack of creativity and originality that such activities by the defendant actually entailed.

Other courts have also declined to follow the 9th Circuit’s approach.  In Precious Moments, Inc. v. La Infantil, Inc., 971 F. Supp. 66 (D.P.R. 1997), the district court noted:

Reading Galoob in conjunction with Mirage, however, it appears that the Ninth Circuit also relaxes the originality requirement when considering whether a work is a derivative work for purposes of infringement. Even if Galoob was correct with regard to fixation, Mirage reads the originality requirement out of the definition of “derivative work.”

Thus, while Kwun may have ultimately arrived at the correct result, 9th Circuit precedent doesn’t firmly support his position. 

Indeed, if the Precious Moments court is correct, originality isn’t even a requirement when creating a derivative work and  “open[s] the door for the most trivial of modifications to generate an infringing derivative work.”  Consequently, notwithstanding Kwun’s belief that the 9th Circuit’s standard immunizes Amazon from liability, the Kindle 2′s text-to-speech feature could potentially be “trivial” enough to be deemed an infringing derivative work under another formulation of the 9th Circuit’s approach.  As discussed below, the 2nd Circuit (where suit would most likely be brought) appears to have expressly rejected this rationale.

Moreover, there are also some practical considerations that Kwun fails to take into account.  As noted above, standards of originality vary from circuit to circuit, and Kwun makes the implicit and unsubstantiated assumption that if the Guild were to sue Amazon, it would sue in Washington state, where the 9th Circuit’s test would be applied.  This is unlikely.  As a litigator, I often wrestle with forum and venue issues and their importance shouldn’t be underestimated—it can make all the difference in the world.

While Amazon is located in Seattle, the Author’s Guild is located in New York, which is the 2nd Circuit’s jurisdiction.  The 2nd Circuit would apply its own test and isn’t bound by anything that the 9th Circuit does.  (And even though the 9th Circuit handles many intellectual property cases due to Silicon Valley and Hollywood, it’s still the most reversed circuit by the Supreme Court—about 86% in 2007—and its rationale would likely be met with considerable skepticism in New York.)  So if the Guild were to sue, it would almost certainly bring suit in a jurisidiction favorable to itself, and that’s not the 9th Circuit.

In fact, in Durham Indus., Inc. v. Tomy Corp., 630 F.2d 905 (2d Cir. 1980), the 2nd Circuit appears to have rejected the 9th Circuit’s questionable dual approach to derivative works:

First, to support a copyright the original aspects of a derivative work must be more than trivial. Second, the scope of protection afforded a derivative work must reflect the degree to which it relies on preexisting material and must not in any way affect the scope of any copyright protection in that preexisting material.

Thus—assuming that the court doesn’t distinguish between copyrightability and infringement (and the Lee court cites to the 2nd Circuit in this regard)—in order for the Kindle’s speech feature to be deemed non-infringing under the 2nd Circuit’s test, Amazon would have to show that: (1) the speech feature is “trivial,” even if it constitutes original expression; or (2) there is no “scope of protection” for the text-to-speech feature because even though it relies upon the author’s preexisting expression in order to generate its audio, no recording is ever made (as discussed shortly) and it therefore doesn’t affect any exclusive rights in the preexisting material.  (As the test is conjunctive, Amazon only has to show that it fails to meet one of the elements to succeed in its defense.)

It is this last point upon which the Guild appears to be focusing.  It seems concerned that this feature could somehow impact audio book sales and therefore affect an author’s ability to commercially exploit the audio aspects of the work.  Several commentators, however, have correctly noted that it’s unlikely an unfeeling, monotone computer-generated voice could ever replace an audiobook read by a live person.  I’ll take a book read by James Earl Jones any day over one read by the HAL 9000.

Another commentator, Nilay Patel, states that what the Guild is essentially arguing in a roundabout way is that while Amazon has the right to sell you the electronic version of the book, it can’t sell you a recording of the book, which the speech feature emulates.  He notes that the claim isn’t as “ridiculous as it seems.”

While Patel states that the Kindle’s “text-to-speech feature blurs the line between books and recordings,” sound recordings under the Copyright Act are defined as  “works that result from the fixation of a series of musical, spoken, or other sounds . . . .”  17 U.S.C. § 101 (emphasis added).  Fixation is absent here.  As Kwun correctly notes, the Kindle 2′s sounds are not fixed but “immediately trail away into the ether.”  So under the statute, it’s not technically a sound recording.  But that doesn’t make it a “ridiculous” claim either.

Finally, as mentioned earlier,  “fair use” would be a major—and likely successful—defense if the Guild ever sued Amazon.  Amazon would almost certainly cite the ubiquitous “substantial non-infringing use” rule from Sony Corp. of Am. v. Universal City Studios, Inc., 464 U.S. 417 (1984).  It’s practically a staple defense in every technology lawyer’s arsenal these days.  And it may prove to be a persuasive one.  

Surely the legion of customers who may want to listen to a computer-generated voice in the privacy of their own homes should be allowed to do so, shouldn’t they?  The technology does appear to have substantial non-infringing uses along the same lines as video recorders and “time-shifting” of programs did in the Sony case.  Instead of reading to themselves, consumers are simply “voice-shifting,” i.e., letting the Kindle read to them. 

Ultimately, the Guild’s position seems like a weak claim, but not one devoid of merit.  It could have some teeth if presented in the proper context, but the Guild would have an uphill battle.  As a litigator, I enjoy a good lawsuit (yes, there are such things!) when there are interesting and significant issues at stake. 

Alas, however, Amazon doesn’t seem to think so.  At least not at the moment.  The company announced that while it was convinced the audio feature was legal and didn’t violate copyright law, it would give authors and publishers the right to determine, on a book-by-book basis, whether the audio feature would be enabled.  According to one report, Amazon may have retreated from its position due to the contracts that publishers (particularly large publishers) had with their authors over e-book rights.

Sigh.  It would have been an interesting and possibly ground-breaking case in copyright law.  And a good fight besides.  But I’m sure that the next one is right around the corner.  Hey, a lawyer can dream, can’t he? 

Fart.  Fart.  Fart.  It’s not often a lawyer gets to use that word in a courtroom once, let alone repeatedly.  But sometimes the practice of law in these modern times lends itself to some unusual—dare I say fun?—cases that are not your traditional fare.  Or perhaps I should say, “iFart,” which is a bit more apropos here.  

Flatulence—or more specifically, fart noises—is apparently big business in software today, especially for the iPhone.  Who knew?  And this story underscores the lengths that some companies will go to protect their trademarks and brands in this digital age.  It seems that two companies which make competing “flatulence noise simulation software” for the iPhone have gotten themselves into a bit of a, uh, legal stink. 

InfoMedia, which makes “iFart Mobile,” a popular novelty application for the iPhone, has filed for a declaratory judgment in a Colorado district court against Air-O-Matic (“AOM”), which makes “Pull My Finger,” a competing application which was apparently the leading fart simulation software before iFart, uh, exploded onto the scene.  A copy of the complaint can be viewed here.  I, for one, had no idea that digital fart simulation technology had advanced so rapidly.

AOM filed for a trademark on the term “Pull My Finger” at the Patent and Trademark Office (“PTO”) in December of 2008.  The application is pending.  InfoMedia alleges in its complaint that its use of the term “pull my finger” in its advertising and other marketing constitutes a “fair use” under trademark law and does not and will not infringe upon any of AOM’s trademark rights.   It also wants the court to declare that “Pull My Finger” is a “descriptive” phrase and therefore doesn’t qualify for protection.

According to letters and e-mails between the parties, in addition to using “pull my finger” in press releases, AOM has also accused InfoMedia of posting a YouTube video prominently using the term, posting false negative reviews and testimonials of “Pull My Finger” (while extolling the virtues of iFart), and spamming AOM customers on Twitter with ads for iFart.  While I’m not exactly sure what makes one fart application better than another—and my expertise is strictly limited to my own personal experiences with flatulence—these differences are apparently quite significant.

So what did InfoMedia do?  Exactly what it should have.  It beat AOM to the punch and filed for a declaratory judgment in its home state of Colorado.  Even though AOM is located in Florida, it now has to defend itself in a Colorado court.  That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but InfoMedia now has the “home field” advantage and AOM doesn’t have the option of suing in Florida.  It now has to find a Colorado law firm.

I’ve only seen InfoMedia’s complaint and attachments and not AOM’s response, so I’ll reserve my opinion on the case’s merits.  Trademark law can be quite complex anyway, and intellectual property cases in general can turn on factual or legal nuances.  If, however, this case was only about InfoMedia using “pull my finger” descriptively in some of its press releases, then it would probably have a strong case that it didn’t infringe. 

But if InfoMedia kept using “Pull My Finger” in fake testimonials and reviews and ran a deceptive ad campaign on Twitter, than AOM’s claim could be stronger.   As noted by AOM’s counsel:  “InfoMedia’s efforts have been directing at merging Pull My Finger and iFart in the consumers’ minds, so that searches for Pull My Finger pull up the iFart application.”

Of course, all of this depends upon whether or not the court finds “Pull My Finger” to be protectable.  InfoMedia has alleged that the term is “descriptive” and doesn’t qualify for registration.  So what does descriptive mean?  According to the PTO’s Trademark Manual of Examining Procedure:  “A mark is considered merely descriptive if it describes an ingredient, quality, characteristic, function, feature, purpose or use of the specified goods or services.”

InfoMedia correctly notes in its complaint—and cites that most revered of internet sources, Wikipedia—that the term “pull my finger” is synonymous with flatulence.  The company is essentially alleging, among other things, that the term merely describes the function or feature of AOM’s software. 

So is “Pull My Finger” descriptive?  It’s hard to say.  The PTO notes that the ”great variation in facts from case to case prevents the formulation of specific rules for specific fact situations.  Each case must be decided on its own merits.”  Translation:  The court will have to make the call after carefully considering all of the flatulence-related evidence.

If the term is found to be descriptive, AOM would then have to show that the phrase has acquired “secondary meaning” in order to get it registered.  Secondary meaning is defined as “proof that [the mark] has become distinctive as applied to the applicant’s goods or services in commerce.”  In other words, ”it must be shown that the primary significance of the term in the minds of the consuming public is not the product but the producer.” 

Thus, AOM would have to show that customers primarily associate the term, “Pull My Finger,” with AOM and not just with the application itself.  This isn’t easy to do, especially if a product just entered the marketplace and hasn’t been in use for a long period of time, and been extensively marketed and advertised. 

So we’ll have to wait and see what happens.  The parties may very well settle and not take the risk that litigation often entails—somebody’s got to lose, after all.  I hope they don’t settle, though.  I would love to read a court opining on flatulence and fart noises.  It would be quite entertaining.  You know, a real gas.

When I first heard about the Associated Press (“AP”) accusing Shepard Fairey, the artist who created the ubiquitous red and blue Obama poster emblazened with the word “HOPE,” for copyright infringement, the first thing I thought of was “fair use,” most notably the concept called “transformative use.”  The AP alleged that Fairey infringed its photograph of Obama when he developed his poster.

Then I read the story shortly thereafter about Fairey filing a “declaratory judgment” lawsuit in New York asking a federal court in Manhattan to “declare” that he was not infringing the AP’s photograph.  Fairey doesn’t deny that he based the painting on the photograph, but claims that it was a fair use, which is a defense against copyright infringement. 

Although I haven’t had a chance to read the complaint yet, transformative use is the principal part of Fairey’s defense.  And it’s a meritorious one that will make for an interesting legal analysis—assuming the case gets that far.  So what is “transformative use” exactly?  The Supreme Court addressed this issue most recently in Campbell v. Acuff-Rose Music, Inc. in 1994.  The Court described a transformative use as follows:

The enquiry here may be guided by . . . looking to whether the use is for criticism, or comment, or news reporting, and the like. The central purpose of this investigation is to see . . . whether the new work merely “supersede[s] the objects” of the original creation or instead adds something new, with a further purpose or different character, altering the first with new expression, meaning, or message; it asks, in other words, whether and to what extent the new work is “transformative.”  Although such transformative use is not absolutely necessary for a finding of fair use, the goal of copyright, to promote science and the arts, is generally furthered by the creation of transformative works. . . . and the more transformative the new work, the less will be the significance of other factors, like commercialism, that may weigh against a finding of fair use.  (emphasis added)

So the court will be focusing on to what extent Fairey’s painting adds something new to the original AP photograph, i.e., its “expression, meaning, or message” and thereby “transforms” it.  While a fair use analysis can be quite lengthy and complicated (and is very fact-specific), Fairey will certainly be able to make a credible argument that his colorful and abstract painting combined with the word “HOPE” alters and transforms the photograph’s meaning or message. 

In fact, it’s unclear to me exactly what message the original photograph would be communicating by itself.  Is Obama looking confident?  Reflective?  Poised?  Attentive?  Presidential?  It’s somewhat subjective and it will be interesting to see how the AP characterizes the picture’s message.  It’s really more a question of opinion, which works strongly in Fairey’s favor.  (And what does “hope” consist of anyway?)  So Fairey has a strong defense in this regard.  But one thing that I learned about litigation over the past 15 years or so is that it’s a very fluid and dynamic environment and can change rapidly.  Unforeseen things happen.

So in practical terms, what’s the lesson to be learned here?  Here’s the basic one:  Contacting a party or sending a cease and desist letter can be risky business sometimes.  In any type of infringement action—whether it’s patent, trademark, or copyright—notifying the other side that you believe it’s infringing on your intellectual property rights gives them the ability to go running into federal court and seek declaratory relief.  After all, you’ve just told them that a problem exists.

Your notification to them of possible infringement creates what’s called a “justiciable controversy” and can give them the ability and standing to go into court to seek a declaration that they’re not infringing, just as Fairey has done.  Of course, each federal circuit has its own rules as to what creates a justiciable controversy, so Massachusetts may use a different standard than another state—although the standards will usually not differ all that much.

So why is this a problem?  If you’re located in Boston, Massachusetts and the possible infringer is located in California, that party can now go into a federal court in California and file its action and get the “home field” advantage.  The court would very likely have jurisdiction over you.  So in addition to now having to hire counsel in California to defend yourself, you would also be forced to go there to give and take depositions and engage in other forms of “discovery.”  It can be very incovenient and expensive.  That’s the point.

This is why whenever somebody contacts me about either sending a cease and desist letter or is the recipient of one, it’s crucial to really sit down and strategize as to what your next move should be.  If litigation is a probable outcome and you’re dealing with a well-financed adversary, then it may be best to strike first and file an action in your home state where it would be most convenient for you.  (It’s been my experience, however, that many clients—especially those who have never been through the litigation process before—are somewhat leery of filing litigation first given its potential expense and duration.) 

Of course, these are general guidelines only and each situation will have its own facts and nuances that will dictate how best to proceed.  The practice of law doesn’t usually lend itself to easy answers, particularly where issues of infringement are concerned.  Many factors need to be taken into consideration.

So, Fairey did the smart thing.  Rather than wait and let the AP sue him—especially given the meritoriousness of his case—he struck first.  It will be interesting to see how things develop.  And it’s always possible that the case will settle before the court has a chance to rule.  In many instances, filing an action such as this is simply designed to show the other side that a person is serious about protecting his/her rights and that a compromise might be in everyone’s best interest.  But Fairey has a strong case.  We’ll have to wait and see.

Does the flood of information ever end?  Do we have to know everything about everyone—in real time?  While location-tracking software is not new (well, not too new, anyway), Google’s expected move into this market only further reinforces Scott McNealy’s eerily prophetic saying, “You have zero privacy anyway.  Get over it.”  But now when you “get over it,” all of your friends will be able to see exactly where you were and when.

Google just launched its Latitude software that lets mobile phone users share their mapped location with their network of contacts—if they so choose.  This is nothing new, per se, given the existence of other companies such as Loopt, BrightKite, and Dopplr (for example), as well as most people’s familiarity with GPS, but Google’s entry into the marketplace provides further evidence that the technology is becoming even more widespread.  Maybe too much so.  But when the 800 pound gorilla talks, everyone listens.

According to the article, Google “hopes it will help people find each other while out and about and keep track of loved ones.”  Those are helpful and noble intentions.  What parents wouldn’t want to know where their teenagers are?  Or be able to direct a lost friend to your precise location?  But hope is a fickle thing.  And what Google hopes for and how Latitude will actually be used are two entirely different things.  We all know what the road to hell is paved with.  Lawyers make their living off of it (more on that in a moment).

Google requires that people expressly sign-up for the service and gives them the opportunity to tailor their preferences as to who they can share their location with, as well as the type of information shared.  While that gives the user some degree of control, it’s probably only a matter of time before a bored 16 year-old in hacks into the system and tracks people. 

Even if this doesn’t occur anytime soon, a disgruntled ex-husband may be able to track his ex-wife who forgot to take him out of her “network.”  While entire companies have sprung-up offering this type of GPS-based (and typically illegal) service, now a person can do so without any special equipment whatsoever.  Just a little bit of software and a forgetful spouse.  It goes without saying that stalking is a very real problem in this digital age and tools that used to be available only to law enforcement are becoming increasingly more common.

The fact that such software is even available is part of the larger privacy debate that will be with us for quite some time.  There are no easy answers in a society that never seems to have enough information about others.  Yet from a litigation perspective, few people may realize that all of this location data is stored by a provider for varying degrees of time and subject to subpoena and disclosure in the proper circumstances. 

Thus, in criminal or civil cases where a person’s time and location is an issue, it provides yet one more tool for lawyers to pursue when representing their clients.  Just ask those divorce attorneys in Massachusetts and elsewhere about getting all of that “E-Z Pass” toll information to discover cheating spouses.  Modern convenience has its costs.

So the age old Perry Mason question, “Where were you on February 4, 2009?” now becomes, “Why were you on the corner of 53rd and 7th Avenue at 3:12 p.m. on February 4, 2009?”  And while it may—may—help lawyers such as myself get to the truth faster in a courtroom, the human part of me (and yes, that still exists) finds it it to be unsettling.  So bad grammar aside, the question, ”Where you at?” now becomes, “Why you there?”  Ah technology . . . .