Contact the Copyright Office

Thank you for your interest in contacting the United States Copyright Office. Unfortunately, due to ongoing budgetary difficulties, catastrophic morale collapse, and what management has described as “a regrettable misunderstanding involving a day-old burrito truck,” this is not exactly an ideal time to reach us.

At present, the Office is operating under the following conditions:

our Wi-Fi has been disconnected;
most office phones have been shut off;
several employees now communicate exclusively through exhausted sighing and passive-aggressive sticky notes.

If you absolutely must contact us, you may temporarily reach the Office at Fred’s mother’s house.

(Fred moved back home following his divorce and three consecutive denied promotions. Several displaced Copyright Office employees have also taken up residence there. The Public Information Office is currently operating out of Fred’s brother’s former top bunk bed, directly across from a malfunctioning lava lamp and beneath a poster of The Crow from 1994.)

A frustrated Copyright Office examiner at his desk, head in his hands, while a small child in a cape stands before him proudly declaring that her idea for an invisible flying horse that only she can see deserves immediate federal copyright protection. — Intake, Tuesday morning. The child had follow-up questions.

Please understand that calls to the Office may be subject to the following:

calls may be answered by Fred’s mother;
hold music is just someone crying softly;
all intake forms are currently stored in a plastic bin labeled “XMAS LIGHTS.”

For general copyright questions, simply yell them down the hallway unless it’s after 6:00 p.m. — Fred’s Mom’s Bedtime — or unless the dishwasher is running, in which case she cannot hear a thing and will assume you are the insurance adjuster she has been expecting since February.

For faster service, you are encouraged to contact the Trademark Office instead. They apparently have money, windows, functioning adults, and “ergonomic chairs.”

A Copyright Office employee in business attire searching desperately through a wall of filing cabinets in a dim government corridor, every drawer hanging open and empty, with a hand-written sign above reading PUBLIC RECORDS — PLEASE ALLOW 6 TO 8 YEARS. — Public Records Division. The records are in a bin labeled “MISC.” in the garage.

We do not discuss the Trademark Office anymore. That was the last time. From now on we’re only going to worry about ourselves and learn to work with the tools that we have…

…THOSE BASTARDS!

Please note that any emotional breakdowns shared with Office staff may become part of the public record.

Terms Used in This Contact Page

Wi-Fi: — a wireless networking technology that the Copyright Office had briefly, between August 2019 and a Tuesday in March of this year, when the bill was not paid due to what Fred described as “a clerical oversight” and what Fred’s supervisor described as “Fred.”
Hold music: — audio played while a caller waits. At the Copyright Office, this consists of a recording of Derek from Recordation quietly weeping into a paper cup. It is not intentional. No one has told him the line is live.
Public Information Office: — the division of the Copyright Office responsible for responding to public inquiries, currently headquartered in a top bunk at Fred’s mother’s house, under a Crow poster, and next to a lava lamp that has not worked correctly since 2003 but which “still sets the mood.”
Intake form: — a document submitted by the public to initiate contact with a government agency. Currently stored in a bin labeled “XMAS LIGHTS” in Fred’s mother’s garage, alphabetized by neither name nor date but by something Fred refers to only as “vibes.”
Ergonomic chair: — a workplace seating device designed to support the human body during extended periods of sitting. The Trademark Office has them. We have a folding chair from a church raffle and a beanbag that belonged to Fred’s nephew. We are not going to talk about it.