"Communication" of Adult content

Linden Lab already records everything you say (and do) and where you are, and they could easily program the system to notice four-letter words (or anything else they are interested in). All chat/IM is recorded and processed already. So they could certainly have it flagged for investigation, or even filtered in real-time, or automatically ban you or whatever they wanted to do. Your communications and actions are not private from Linden Lab - they see all.

However, I think it is unlikely that they would do that. Filtering doesn't work, it would be more programming and more things to break, it would cost some processing power, and would generally be a lot of work. And they only implement things like that for a good reason, and I don't think there is any such reason in their minds.

Of course, if you AR someone for saying something bad, LL does already have a complete log of what you all said or did and where you were standing when it happened. But that's nothing new, and for example "hate speech" has always been ARable.

You're looking at this problem from the wrong angle. It's going to be some child that accuses YOU of saying something inappropriate. And you probably did say it, because you thought they were an adult.

Of course, that would mostly seem to be a problem when there are (officially) kids on the grid. So if you believe LL that they're not going to allow that, then no worries I guess. But then you wonder why "adult content" is no longer allowed on a system that is supposed to be "adult", but which the company says is mainly for "Education" now.

Disregarding my kids-coming-to-the-grid tinfoil theory, there is still the general issue of other adults on the grid -- on the PG/Mature parts -- taking offense at your speech, because it may fall into some "adult content" matter. I don't understand how this is to be enforced through IMs, which transcend the locations of the avatars.

One way to handle it would be to only allow people standing on similiarly-rated land to communicate with each other. So people on Zindra would not be allowed to communicate (IM/Group/Inventory/Script) with people who are on Mature/PG land.

People could still AR each other if they felt the conversation was "offensive" though.

Maybe the recent Group Chat debacle where it didn't work for months was some kind of test.

Let them f**cking AR me. I could give a sh*t. I'll say what I f**cking please, where I please, and to whom I please. If they don't like it, that's their f**cking problem. Hey, you Linden a**holes, are you f**cking listening?

I didn't think so.

Next question, please?

Wow. Do you kiss your mother with those asterixes?

See? Even when you censor yourself, there's always somebody ready to be offended.

I refuse to bow to our Politically Correct Overlords. There's free speech in the Constitution, I remember reading about it in school.

AR and be damned to you, is what I say. (Generic "you", not you specifically, Scylla).

Belgium, I say, BELGIUM!

They make some d**ned good chocolate!

I voted for all of the above.

That's an excellent and very true point Lindal. Even with all the letters blocked out with asterisks, there's gonna be people sitting there counting them to guess at what you said. What they guess it means, and what they do with it after that is out of your control.. better to just let the words remain.

Not to mention that really creative minds can make anything sound "naughty."

Frak!

No kidding. (>_<

I have no idea what even 1/3 of this stuff means but I sort of remembered it from my geeky friends in college and found it via the magic of Google. o_O

To prove once and for all that math can be fun, we present: Wherein it is related how that paragon of womanly virtue, young Polly Nomial (our heroine) is accosted by that notorious villain Curly Pi, and factored (oh horror!!!)

Once upon a time (1/t) pretty little Polly Nomial was strolling across a field of vectors when she came to the boundary of a singularly large matrix. Now Polly was convergent, and her mother had made it an absolute condition that she must never enter such an array without her brackets on. Polly, however, who had changed her variables that morning and was feeling particularly badly behaved, ignored this condition on the basis that it was insufficient and made her way in amongst the complex elements. Rows and columns closed in on her from all sides. Tangents approached her surface. She became tensor and tensor. Quite suddendly two branches of a hyperbola touched her at a single point. She oscillated violently, lost all sense of directrix, and went completely divergent. As she tripped over a square root that was protruding from the erf and plunged headlong down a steep gradient. When she rounded off once more, she found herself inverted, apparently alone, in a non-Euclidean space.

She was being watched, however. That smooth operator, Curly Pi, was lurking inner product. As his eyes devoured her curvilinear coordinates, a singular expression crossed his face. He wondered, "Was she still convergent?" He decided to integrate properly at once.

Hearing a common fraction behind her, Polly rotated and saw Curly Pi approaching with his power series extrapolated. She could see at once by his degenerate conic and dissipative that he was bent on no good.

"Arcsinh," she gasped.

"Ho, ho," he said, "What a symmetric little asymptote you have I can see you angles have lots of secs."

"Oh sir," she protested, "keep away from me I haven't got my brackets on."

"Calm yourself, my dear," said our suave operator, "your fears are purely imaginary."

"I, I," she thought, "perhaps he's not normal but homologous."

"What order are you?" the brute demanded.

"Seventeen," replied Polly.

Curly leered "I suppose you've never been operated on."

"Of course not," Polly replied quite properly, "I'm absolutely convergent."

"Come, come," said Curly, "let's off to a decimal place I know and I'll take you to the limit."

"Never," gasped Polly.

"Abscissa," he swore, using the vilest oath he knew. His patience was gone. Coshing her over the coefficient with a log until she was powerless, Curly removed her discontinuities. He stared at her significant places, and began smoothing out her points of inflection. Poor Polly. The algorithmic method was now her only hope. She felt his digits tending to her asymptotic limit. Her convergence would soon be gone forever.

There was no mercy, for Curly was a heavyside operator. Curly's radius squared itself; Polly's loci quivered. He integrated by parts. He integrated by partial fractions. After he cofactored, he performed runge - kutta on her. The complex beast even went all the way around and did a contour integration. What an indignity - to be multiply connected on her first integration. Curly went on operating until he completely satisfied her hypothesis, then he exponentiated and became completely orthogonal.

When Polly got home that night, her mother noticed that she was no longer piecewise continuous, but had been truncated in several places But it was to late to differentiate now. As the months went by, Polly's denominator increased monotonically. Finally she went to L'Hopital and generated a small but pathological function which left surds all over the place and drove Polly to deviation.

The moral of our sad story is this: "If you want to keep your expressions convergent, never allow them a single degree of freedom."