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posted by janrinok on Saturday August 16 2014, @11:05PM   Printer-friendly
from the the-commissioner-already-received-the-message,-however dept.

El Reg reports:

While the event had been touted as a celebration of Clyburn's career and efforts to improve diversity in the industry, its timing and circumstances also brought about talk of a potential conflict of interest.

Comcast and Time Warner are in the midst of trying to win approval for a proposed merger valued at roughly $45bn.

With Clyburn among the commissioners set to decide whether the deal wins FCC approval, members of Citizens for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington (CREW) noted that the companies spending tens of thousands of dollars on an event honoring Clyburn might be a bit of a conflict of interest.

Related:
Comcast Sponsors Honors Dinner for Commissioner During Merger Review

Related Stories

Comcast Sponsors Honors Dinner for Commissioner During Merger Review 16 comments

Comcast will pay $110,000 to sponsor a major dinner honoring FCC commissioner Mignon Clyburn at the same time the regulator is considering whether to approve the cable company's application to acquire Time Warner Cable.

In a barely noticed Senate lobbying disclosure released last month, Time Warner Cable admitted it was also spending $22,000 of its subscribers' money on the same meal.

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  • (Score: 2) by aristarchus on Saturday August 16 2014, @11:10PM

    by aristarchus (2645) on Saturday August 16 2014, @11:10PM (#82155) Journal

    Not necessarily an actual conflict of interest! Could just look like it. Or really, really look like it. Without being an illegal attempt by a corporation to influence the governmental body charged with regulating them. Or a search for complete sentences. Just apparent conflict of interest. Move along!

  • (Score: 0, Offtopic) by Ethanol-fueled on Sunday August 17 2014, @12:42AM

    by Ethanol-fueled (2792) on Sunday August 17 2014, @12:42AM (#82172) Homepage

    Driving out to the agreed-upon residence in rural Arizona, Ethanol-fueled clenched his hands on the steering wheel as he drew closer carrying feelings of nervous excitement and anticipation. The regulars of website Soylent News had agreed to meet in person and host a party to to celebrate the anniversary of the website's incorporation.

    Ethanol-fueled had every reason to be excited and nervous, and while the regulars were generally intelligent and mild-mannered, he had in the past written racist, sexist, controversial, and inflammatory things on the website. Would they accept him in person?

    At last, he pulled up to the residence, a nondescript country home with a large backyard, when at the time of twilight the sounds of conversation could be heard from the backyard, and smoke billowed from a bonfire started by the participants. Every so often a bottle or can could be heard being opened, and most of those contained beer.

    NCommander answered the door and introduced himself with a firm handshake and an easy smile, and during the exchange of names Ethanol-fueled stammered, "Eth-th-thanol-fueled s-sir," knees trembling and wearing the most dweeby and moronic smile a man could. Ethanol-fueled then asked Ncommander,"Is it really okay for me to be here? I've said a lot of bad things, and I don't want to make things all awkward." NCommander replied, "It's okay, dude. We're all just a bunch of mild-mannered nerds. We like you. You're a pretty smart guy, my friend" before flashing a toothy smile, and the sound of a sparkle could be heard as a flash of light reflected from Ncommander's tooth into Ethanol-fueled's childishly wide eyes.

    They both strolled into the backyard where all of the regulars were drinking and talking. People were sitting around the bonfire, some were standing in small groups, some were smoking cigarettes, and some occasionally excused themselves from the fun to go piss around the side of the house. A few people were playing cards at a table, and one of them looked directly at Ethanol with a knowing glance before slowly lowering his head to contemplate his cards.

    The night went on, and there was much drinking and talking and very little awkwardness. Ethanol-fueled was content, as the others were. He felt nature's call tugging and got up to take a whiz, dropping both his pants and underwear down around his ankles while steadying his aim. Ahhhhhh, man. Shuddering relief akin to an orgasm, except in reverse.

    "Now! Do it" yelled a voice from the darkness.

    Tork came up from behind on Ethanol-fueled and threw a burlap sack over Ethanol-fueled's head as the previously quiet crowd rose up simultaneously and ran toward the struggling Ethanol-fueled in an orgiastic melee, Ethanol-fueled tripping over his own drawers and falling facefirst into the puddle of his own piss, the angry mob dragging his struggling and thrashing body into an open patch near the bonfire. They fastened a gag over Ethanol-fueled's mouth but preferred to hold him down themselves rather than tie him, so that each person could feel themselves restraining the abusive foul-mouthed brute. "We'll teach you the meaning of justice," Tork warned, as Ethanol-fueled's muffled screams and gasps punctuated the struggle.

    A freakish-looking Blonde guy with wild eyes and a toothy Gary-Busey grin came out running and prancing around, laughing,"Hahaha hee hee hoooo!" pirouetting in circles before coming to rest standing near Ethanol-fueled's head. "Call me a fucking twinkie, will you?" he giggled in a high-pitched voice like Mickey Mouse on PCP, "Have a taste of my creamy twinkie!" MrCoolbp said as he exposed his flaccid penis and knealt over Ethanol-fueled's struggling head, slapping his penis across Ethanol-fueled's face as Ethanol-fueled prostested,"MMMF! MMMMMMF!"

    McGrew, who is a six-foot six-inch tall Black man, who never thought it relevant to mention his race in discussion, the one at the card table with the knowing glance, slowly rose from his seat. Oddly enough, he was not all that offended by Ethanol-fueled's racism, it was rather the degeneracy and juvenile bullshit, for which McGrew had little patience. He walked over to the spectacle slowly and deliberately, looked down, and with perfect aim spit on Ethanol-fueled's torso before slowly walking back to the card-table and picking up his hand, resuming the game as if nothing happened.

    NCommander watched this all from a distance of about forty feet, his arms crossed, his posture solid, looking downward but with chin up, silent and stoic but authoritative.

    MrCoolbp walked away and came back carrying a red-hot poker through a welder's glove, the poker having been held to the bonfire for a few minutes. The holders-on moved aside as MrCoolbp slowly thrusted the glowing poker towards Ethanol-fueled's most sensitive nipple, crisping it upon contact, the shirt covering the nipple singed and briefly flaring up in a ring before extinguishing himself, Ethanol's muffled screams being louder and of a higher pitch than before.
    MrCoolbp mockingly screaming back into Ethanol-fueled's terrified face, "Waaaah! Waaaaah! Waaa-ha-HA!"
    "Ethanol-fueled, huh?"
    MrCoolBp shouted into Ethanol-fueled's face, "It's time to top off your tank!" as they removed the rag from Ethanol-fueled's mouth, the screaming never stopping, as Hairyfeet came out of the house carrying two handles of Vodka.

    "You wanna be my friend, huh? My BUDDY?" Hairyfeet snarled, removing the caps from the bottle of vodka as a maniacly-laughing Mrcoolbp held Ethanol-fueled's mouth open. Hairyfeet poured the vodka into the helpless Ethanol-fueled's mouth as Ethanol gurled, sputtered, and choked as Hairyfeet poured the last of the handle down Ethanol-fueled's unwilling throat. Ethanol-fueled was no longer moving by the time the second handle had been poured, again down Ethanol-fueled's throat, dying in the same way Dostoevsky's abusive father did at the hands of his own men.

    NCommander turned around and walked back inside the house when he saw that Ethanol-fueled was no longer moving.

    "Time for a FLAMEwar!" MrCoolbp giggled as the mob stuffed Ethanol-fueled's body into an empty fifty-five gallon drum, pouring in gasoline and igniting the whole thing until the air stank of bacon. Some of the mob gathered around and roasted marshmallows on that fire, one of whom was Tork. After biting into the roasted marshmallow, Tork twirled his index finger in a spiral pattern as he thrust it high above his head, revealing sweat stains around the arm holes of the pink tank top he was wearing.

    "Mmmm," Tork said, "That's the taste of justice. Sweet, sweet justice," as they all gave each other high-fives and had gay sex all over the place.

    • (Score: 2) by Lagg on Sunday August 17 2014, @12:46AM

      by Lagg (105) on Sunday August 17 2014, @12:46AM (#82175) Homepage Journal

      I've seen more uncomfortable fanfiction. You're losing your touch man.

      --
      http://lagg.me [lagg.me] 🗿
    • (Score: 0) by Anonymous Coward on Sunday August 17 2014, @01:03AM

      by Anonymous Coward on Sunday August 17 2014, @01:03AM (#82178)

      NO!

      Chicharrónes !!

      YUM!

      and a little like burning hair.

  • (Score: 0) by Anonymous Coward on Sunday August 17 2014, @04:14AM

    by Anonymous Coward on Sunday August 17 2014, @04:14AM (#82198)

    Comcast has been ready to merge since March, and now August is almost over. How long does it take for a merger to get approved? I wonder if Congress is trying to extort Comcast, because they know the merger is very unpopular.

  • (Score: 2) by aristarchus on Monday August 18 2014, @04:12AM

    by aristarchus (2645) on Monday August 18 2014, @04:12AM (#82473) Journal

    And this is how democracy dies, to arguments over who is going to pick up the tab for dinner. Always pay spies and lobbyists better than your enemies can afford to pay them, for else your kingdom will be in peril.