"...we are not at liberty to second-guess congressional determinations and policy judgments of this order, however debatable or arguably unwise they may be."
Opinion of the Supreme Court of the United States in the case of Eldred v. Ashcroft

As an aspiring author who hopes to make a bundle writing arcane novels, I can't say I'm really broken up by the recent Supreme Court decision that allowed copyright to be extended to life plus 90 years. If my great-grandchildren manage to make a buck off my scribbling, that's just fine with me. And while I do have sympathy for the usefulness of art in the public domain, I just don't see that this decision makes all that much difference. Except, of course, that people will still have to pay the estate of the Hill sisters when they sing "Happy Birthday" on the air.

I was more interested in that vaguely cynical section of the decision (written by Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg) telling voters that a law isn't invalid just because it's been bought by big money.

Don't kid yourself. The 1998 law extending copyright an additional 20 years was bought by some of the biggest money around. TimeWarner. MCA. Sony. And most vocal of all, Disney.

In fact, Disney had a good amount to do with the last extension of copyright, from life plus 50 years to life plus 70 years, back in 1976. Then, as now, the main concern was the possibility that Mickey Mouse just might end up in the public domain. The horror! The horror! Or, more accurately: Red ink! Red ink!

Whatever. I really like that bit in the opinion where Justice Ginsburg sticks it to the voters. No matter how debatable or unwise? Damn. She's basically telling us that if we don't like the laws, then we oughta vote ourselves some new representatives. Preferably ones whose PACs don't accept massive checks from deep pockets.

Good luck, my friends.

Still and all, there's something to this idea. We the people haven't done very well lately when it comes to picking our leaders. Were Al Gore, George W. Bush and Ralph Nader really the best three possible candidates for president a couple years back? Even if you throw in also-rans Bill Bradley and John McCain, the list isn't that much more impressive.

Or look at the 2002 House and Senate races. Here in my little corner of the New South, a positively plastic Elizabeth Dole thwacked little weenie Erskine Bowles. They both ran relentlessly negative campaigns and spent something in the neighborhood of 15 to 20 million bucks. And what do the residents of North Carolina get for this expenditure? Well, we do get a senator whose name isn't Helms. That's a bonus, to be sure. But past that we get another Washington insider who isn't about to rock the boat. And I'm not picking on Dole because she's a Republican; Bowles wouldn't have been much different.

How many congressional seats went uncontested? How many incumbents faced mere token opposition in rolling up 70 80 or even 90 percent of the vote? Too damn many.

You can blame the redistricting process if you like, but I think that's a cop out. Most of the people I know are interested in politics, but they don't do much other than vote in every election. Sure, that makes them more involved than more than half of America--but what a sad statement that is.

Getting involved doesn't necessarily mean running for office. It doesn't necessarily mean sending checks to candidates on one list or another. But it does imply some sort of action. Volunteering for campaigns. Working the polls. Hey, even writing your state representative is far better than doing nothing.

The other night, I had this dream that I was sitting in a bar talking to Billy Idol. He was bitching to me about the latest scandal involving Tony Blair's wife. He said he'd like to take a Molotov Cocktail down to 10 Downing and take out the PM's wicket.

I asked him if he planned to work actively to unseat the Labour government, or at the very least vote in the next election to show his displeasure. He replied in the words of Eliza Doolittle (sounding strangely like a 20-year-old Julie Andrews), "What do you tyke me for, a fool?"

I gave Billy a bit of himself in reply.

"It's a nice day to start again."

I don't think he bought it, and probably with good reason. It's nowhere near the best line in "White Wedding." Anyway, he just tossed back his beer and threw down a tequila chaser. Me? I woke up. It's never a good idea to spend too much time pounding drinks with faded rock stars, even in your dreams.

Jon Worley promises to use fewer musical references in his next column.