According to David Usher's management, any artist who signs with EMI is forced into having their material produced in a copy-protected format world wide. Ew.
(looking around an old ruined church - the "Reefert church" at Glendalough)
zadcat: what'd that be? (pointing at a recess in the wall) waider: it's the, aw jeez, what's it. You know, the, uh. Thing. The, ah. The place they keep the communion hosts. zadcat: hostie de tabernak... waider: right, right. The fucking tabernacle.
(incorrectness mainly in that I have no idea how to spell that particular Canadian expletive)