Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)
Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.
This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.
Tuesday, August 17, 2004
AND another thing about Sunday...
I actually got to read the newspaper, although it was very, VERY late in the evening. Got to the Parade magazine (my usual penultimate read, right before wrapping up with the comics) and after thumbing through the normal thin layer of commentary, made my way to "Ask Marilyn." Someone asked if they own all the land under their house, and Ms. vos Savant replied that in theory, if you own property, you own it (in a ever-decreasing conical shape) all the way to the center of the earth.
I bring this up only because it allows me an opportunity to act like I know more than someone in the newspaper.
Basically, not likely. In general, at least in the U.S. and countries where property law came from English common law, you don't quite own the land itself, but rather the right to buy and sell that plot of ground and the things connected to it. Large landowners MIGHT have title or right of usage to stuff under the ground, but for most folks who just live in plain old houses, all the underground mineral and water rights generally belong to someone else. If you happen to find a vein of gold under your outhouse, chances are the right to mine that gold aren't yours.
So keep it quiet so as not to raise suspicions. And don't go trying to dig a hole to China. Trust me on this one--when I was ten, I only managed to get about three feet down before I got in trouble with my mom.
Anyway, this article in Parade is also an excuse to post a picture of Marilyn vos Savant. Rrrrowwll.
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