When Starbucks sent a cease and desist to a small Missouri brewpub demanding they change the name of a little imbibed beer called "Frappicino" lest the coffeehouse chain's customers mistake it for their own "Frappuccino," the owner had no choice but to comply.
When retainer attorneys employed by Big Deals send out scary cease and desist letters to nobodies on behalf of their Super Important clients, it's typically a pro forma matter.
Jelly Roll, a 28-year-old white rapper from Antioch, Tennessee, has eaten at Waffle House more times than he can possibly remember. Hundreds of visits, but more likely thousands, to an inestimable percentage of America’s 1,600 Southern franchises. He orders the same meal every time, his particular variation of an All-Star Breakfast: scrambled eggs with cheese and wheat toast; hash browns that are double scattered, smothered, covered, and chunked (splattered with cheese, onions, and ham); a side of sausage; and a chocolate-chip waffle.
The all-powerful National Pork Board has sicced its attorneys on make-your-own-clever-shirt site Neighborhoodies. The National Pork Board strongly disagrees with Alf's assertion that cats are "The Other White Meat."
Despite complaints from all the musicians the McCain/Palin campaign are stealing music from, the assholes just keep stealing music. They ignored cease-and-desist orders from Van Halen's management and played "Right Now" at a rally in Maine last week, and they continue to blast Heart's "Barracuda" at stump stops. That much is true. Unfortunately, this open letter from Heart's Nancy and Ann Wilson is a joke column from The Stranger. Sigh. "Cease and Desist, you old fart," it reads. "God knows why we thought you would listen to us—two strong creative women. I guess we're all just 'trollop-faced cunts' to you. (Speaking of Cindy, who can blame her for hitting the pills? We'd need a Demerol epidural to live through five minutes of her conjugal duties [...] We'd rather rim Meatloaf. Seriously.)" Click through for a bigger pic of the furious missive.
John McCain, Sarah Palin, and their campaigners, just won't take a hint—or a flurry of cease-and-desist orders from all the musicians whose music they keep stealing for their nauseating "maverick" campaign. Last week, Van Halen had to tell them to STFU when the campaign started using the song "Right Now" totally without permission. Before that, Jackson Brown and John Mellencamp had to force McCain's minions to stop blasting their tunes on the campaign trail. So what did the McCain morons think was going to happen when they tried to make Heart's "Barracuda" Sarah Palin's theme song without getting the band's permission? Well, what has happened is that the psycho-eyed Veep wannabe now has a nickname based on a song she can never play at a public event again. Ha!
