Seyfarth’s Patent Litigation practice group and partner Lisa Meyerhoff have earned recognition as “Highly Recommended” in World Intellectual Property Review‘s  “USA Patents Rankings” for 2025. The firm earned the designation for its contentious patent work, with Meyerhoff gaining the same honor individually.

The WIPR’s national patent rankings spotlight leading law firms and practitioners who are entrusted with the most significant patent matters in the United States and who build patent portfolios for some of the world’s largest companies.

Seyfarth’s Patent Litigation practice group, part of the firm’s decorated Intellectual Property practice, represents clients in high‑stakes patent disputes, including infringement and enforcement matters.

Unrivaled is a 3-on-3 basketball league founded by WNBA superstars Napheesa Collier and Breanna Stewart. The league has attracted many established WNBA stars, like Ms. Stewart, as well as up-and-coming young players like Paige Bueckers, who signed a deal to play in Unrivaled even before she was selected as the first overall pick in the 2025 WNBA draft.  Unrivaled played its first season in early 2025 near Miami, Florida, and is currently in the midst of its second season. Although most of the games during the 2026 season have again been played near Miami, this past weekend, Unrivaled played some of its games in Philadelphia, with record-setting crowds highlighting the broad interest in this new league.

Unrivaled moved quickly to protect the intellectual property associated with the league, but it has encountered obstacles nearly as tough as the defense of Aliyah Boston (who, as of this writing, leads Unrivaled players in rebounds and blocks per game). The league has attempted to register, among other marks, UNRIVALED (Serial No. 98532992); UNRIVALED U (Serial No. 98655635), and the design mark (Serial No. 98655628). The USPTO has refused to register the marks and, as of this writing, has suspended further action on the applications. It appears that the league is running up against the registered UNRIVALED mark owned by Penn State University (Registration No. 4708398) and the USPTO’s concerns of a likelihood of confusion between the marks. Not only that, but the basketball league has had to contend with earlier-filed, pending applications for marks like UNRIVALED JOY (Serial No. 98248754), UNRIVALED YOUTH SPORTS (Serial No. 98458632), and UNRIVALED BASEBALL (Serial No. 98458635). 

It is not certain whether the league attempted to “clear” UNRIVALED before settling on the name of the league, i.e., checking whether the name conflicted with existing trademarks. It is possible the league proceeded knowing that registering UNRIVALED marks would be a tough battle, but that naming the league “Unrivaled” was important enough to give it a try, even if the odds were as long as a half-court shot. Although it remains to be seen how this issue turns out, as of now, it looks like the league’s attempts to register variations of its name will encounter defense that even Marina Mabrey (Unrivaled’s points per game leader as of this writing) would not be able to overcome.

The league has also encountered stout defense in its attempt to register the design mark (Serial No. 99086262). On January 29, 2026, the USPTO examining attorney issued a non-final action, asserting, among other things, that this color mark cannot be registered because, generally speaking, colors are not distinctive. The examining attorney cited, among other authorities, to a recent decision from the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Federal Circuit on that front. The league has three months to respond.

The league has so far had better luck with its applications to register marks that do not include the word “unrivaled.” These include CROWN THE ONE (Serial No. 99048880; published on June 24, 2025 and notice of allowance issued on August 19, 2025); and the design mark (Serial No. 99311185, where the league responded to a non-final office action on January 12, 2026); and the design mark (Serial No. 98655634). That last mark highlights how long the process can sometimes take.  The league filed its application for that mark on July 18, 2024, well before the first Unrivaled season kicked off. The application was published on November 25, 2025 and a notice of allowance was issued on January 20, 2026, as the second Unrivaled season was underway.

The league also has pending applications for marks relating to the inaugural 2025 Unrivaled teams, the applications for which were filed in late 2024 before the first season started, and more recent applications relating to teams added for the 2026 season, the applications for which were filed in late 2025.  As one example, the league filed an application for this design mark for the Lunar Owls team (Serial No. 98830640):. Although the league filed this application on October 31, 2024—before Unrivaled’s first season began—the USPTO initially refused to approve the mark for publication due to potential confusion arising from inclusion of the phrase “Basketball Club,” which is included in other trademarks. Unrivaled appealed to the Trademark Trial and Appeal Board (TTAB) and asked the examining attorney to reconsider, based on the league disclaiming its rights in “Basketball Club” other than in the mark as shown. Following that request for reconsideration, the examining attorney approved the mark for publication on January 28, 2026, and the mark will be published on February 24, 2026.

All of this underscores that it can be a tricky road for new sports leagues and other new businesses to protect their fledgling brands. Just like pre-game stretching is important for the Unrivaled athletes, early action to protect intellectual property—including clearance searches and early registration applications—is crucial. But even a venture that plans ahead and files applications early, like Unrivaled did with many of its applications, can face a long process and obstacles along the way. The USPTO reports that the average time between filing an application and registration or abandonment is currently 10.3 months. As Unrivaled’s experience shows, however, applicants can sometimes face a years-long road depending on the nature of the marks and the other, similar registrations out there. It can require perseverance and heart, traits that are often on display during the Unrivaled basketball matches.

As the Seattle Seahawks and the New England Patriots meet again on football’s biggest stage, the rematch inevitably pulls everyone back to one moment. Different rosters. Different seasons. Same unresolved question. With a championship on the line, memories of the one-yard line come rushing back, not because the teams are the same, but because the decision still divides fans, analysts, and armchair quarterbacks.

As a brief recap (apologies to Seattle fans for reopening old wounds), late in the fourth quarter of Super Bowl XLIX, Seattle trailed by four points with roughly twenty seconds remaining and only one timeout. On the one-yard line, the decision was widely framed as obvious: hand the ball to Marshawn Lynch (aka Beast Mode), arguably the best power running back in the league at the time. But the game situation significantly narrowed the Seahawks’ options. With just one timeout left, a run on second down that ended in bounds would have forced Seattle either to burn its final timeout or rush into a highly predictable third-down play under extreme time pressure. Bill Belichick understood this constraint. From a clock-management and optionality perspective, a pass on second down was not reckless, it was rational. An incompletion would stop the clock and preserve both third and fourth down. The Patriots were not guessing. They were reading the situation.

When Russell Wilson released the ball, the defense was ready. Malcolm Butler jumped the route, intercepted the pass, and ended the game. In hindsight, the interception hardened the narrative. But hindsight obscures the real lesson. The play call did not fail because it was irrational. It failed because high-reward decisions carry inherent risk, especially when the other side understands the constraints driving the call.

That same dynamic plays out when companies decide whether to patent an invention or keep it as a trade secret. On the surface, patents often look like the riskier choice. A patent application will be published, usually eighteen months after filing, meaning competitors get a clear window into how the invention works. A patent also has a finite life, generally twenty years from the earliest filing date, after which the invention falls into the public domain. Unlike a trade secret, which can theoretically last forever, a patent comes with a built-in expiration clock that starts ticking the moment you file.

More importantly, patents are not guaranteed. Filing an application does not ensure that claims will be allowed, that the scope will be meaningful, or that the rights will survive challenge. During prosecution, claims may be rejected, narrowed, or abandoned altogether. That uncertainty is especially acute in software and AI, where eligibility concerns, obviousness rejections, and functional claiming issues routinely derail applications. In that sense, pursuing patent protection is very much like throwing a pass at the goal line. The play might succeed and win the game, but there is always a real possibility that it gets intercepted by an examiner unconvinced that the claimed invention passes the patentability goal line.

Trade secrets, by contrast, feel like the power run. No publication. No term limit. No examiner second-guessing claim scope. If secrecy is maintained, protection can last indefinitely. For certain categories of innovation (e.g., manufacturing processes, server-side algorithms, internal workflows, or secret recipes and formulations that are difficult to reverse engineer), this can be exactly the right call. But just as a run up the middle only works when the blocking holds, trade secrets only survive when a company puts real protection in place. Reasonable secrecy measures are the IP equivalent of an offensive line and protection package: access controls, compartmentalization, NDAs, monitoring, and training are what keep the defense from blowing up the play. Once that protection breaks down, through employee turnover, a leak, reverse engineering, or independent development, the ballcarrier is exposed, and the protection is gone instantly, with no replay and no appeal.

Belichick’s insight at the goal line is the same insight sophisticated companies bring to IP strategy. He understood not only what Seattle wanted to do, but what Seattle could do given the constraints. In IP, those constraints include how visible the invention will be once commercialized, how likely competitors are to independently arrive at the same solution, how fast the technology will evolve, and whether enforceable rights against third parties are more valuable than indefinite secrecy. On the trade‑secret side, those constraints also include how much “surface area” the technology exposes: the number of employees who must know it, the degree to which it shows up in customer‑facing outputs, and how much operational friction the company can tolerate in order to keep it locked down. In software and AI, where patents face higher prosecution risk but trade secrets can evaporate the moment code behavior becomes observable, the choice is rarely obvious.

The real lesson of that Super Bowl play is not that passing was foolish. It is that good decisions carry risk when the other side understands your limitations. Patents disclose and expire. Trade secrets endure, but only as long as the protections around them do, and those protections can collapse overnight. Filing a patent may result in powerful rights or nothing at all. Keeping something secret may work for decades, or fail the moment the information leaks, the protection measures break down, or a competitor figures it out independently. IP strategy, like football, is not about choosing the move that looks safest in hindsight. It is about making a defensible decision in real time, with imperfect information, knowing full well that even the smartest call can still end with the ball going the other way.

The International Trademark Association (INTA) has recognized intellectual property associate John “J.C.” Heinbockel as one of its 2026 Rising Stars, a distinction that celebrates emerging leaders in the IP profession.

INTA’s Rising Star program identifies individuals who demonstrate exceptional commitment to intellectual property law through substantive work and leadership potential. Honorees are selected for their contributions to advancing the profession and their dynamic skill sets.

REGISTER HERE

Wednesday, January 21, 2026
1:00 p.m. to 2:00 p.m. Eastern
12:00 p.m. to 1:00 p.m. Central
11:00 a.m. to 12:00 p.m. Mountain
10:00 a.m. to 11:00 a.m. Pacific

About the Program

Join Seyfarth partners Lauren Leipold and Ken Wilton as they present their annual recap of the most significant trademark law and litigation developments from 2025. This comprehensive review distills the year’s most impactful court decisions, USPTO actions, enforcement trends, and practical lessons for brand owners and practitioners. Attendees will walk away with a clear understanding of how 2025 shaped the trademark landscape—and how those developments influence current strategies for protection, enforcement, and portfolio management.

Speakers

Lauren Leipold, Partner, Seyfarth Shaw LLP
Ken Wilton, Partner, Seyfarth Shaw LLP

REGISTER HERE

If you have any questions, please contact Sela Sofferman at ssofferman@seyfarth.com and reference this event.

To comply with State CLE Requirements, CLE forms requesting credit in IL or CA must be received before the end of the month in which the program took place. Credit will not be issued for forms received after such date. For all other jurisdictions forms must be submitted within 10 business days of the program taking place or we will not be able to process the request.

Our live programming is accredited for CLE in CA, IL, and NY (for both newly admitted and experienced).  Credit will be applied as requested, but cannot be guaranteed for TX, NJ, GA, NC and WA. The following jurisdictions may accept reciprocal credit with our accredited states, and individuals can use the certificate they receive to gain CLE credit therein: AZ, AR, CT, HI and ME. For all other jurisdictions, a general certificate of attendance and the necessary materials will be issued that can be used for self-application. CLE decisions are made by each local board, and can take up to 12 weeks to process. If you have questions about jurisdictions, please email CLE@seyfarth.com.

Please note that programming under 60 minutes of CLE content is not eligible for credit in GA. programs that are not open to the public are not eligible for credit in NC.

Eminem’s recent trademark activities raise a question. Is Slim being shady in attempting to enforce his trademark rights, or is he duly protecting his brands?  Protecting one’s trademarks isn’t just for big businesses, online retailers, or chain stores. It’s for musical artists too. As discussed in What’s in a (Band) Name? Why Bands Need Trademark Registrations, it’s a good idea for artists to pursue trademark registration as it may protect their name, logo, or other source identifying elements, prevent legal disputes, and expand business opportunities. Artists who recognize the value in protecting their trademarks may see growth in their career beyond the music industry. And perhaps no one understands this better than Marshall Mathers III, better known as Eminem, Slim, or Slim Shady.

Beyond being a legendary rapper, Eminem is also a businessman, having turned his alternate persona into trademarks for various merchandise and music services. He is the owner of the US registrations for the marks SLIM SHADY and SHADY for among other things, clothing, musical sound recordings, and live entertainment services.  Registration of his marks may have helped grow his fictional character –Slim Shady– into a real revenue stream.

Eminem enforces rights in his marks against others, which can be a good thing because lack of enforcement could cause limitations to or a loss of rights.  However, some might argue that his recent enforcement activities are a tad aggressive.      

“My Name Is” – SLIM SHADY or SWIM SHADY

Earlier this fall, Eminem filed a petition to cancel a US registration for the mark SWIM SHADY. The owner of the mark is an Australian beachwear company called Swim Shady. Swim Shady sells beach shades, bags, and swimsuits and registered with the United States Patent and Trademark Office (USPTO) the mark SWIM SHADY for those goods. In his petition for cancellation, Eminem alleged likelihood of confusion and dilution based on his prior use and registration of the SLIM SHADY and SHADY marks and false association with his Slim Shady persona.

Likelihood of Confusion

If a trademark is confusingly similar to another mark, and the goods and services are similar or related, this may cause consumers to mistakenly believe that the goods or services come from or are associated with the same source. This is known as likelihood of confusion and may be reason to refuse an application for registration, cancel an existing registration, or obtain a court injunction to stop the use of a confusingly similar mark.

In this case, Eminem argued that SWIM SHADY is confusingly similar to SLIM SHADY. Specifically, he pointed to the similarity in sight and sound and that the marks are identical but for one letter difference.

Interestingly, the application for SWIM SHADY was not refused in view of Eminem’s prior registrations. Perhaps the USPTO did not consider the marks confusingly similar, or the registrations may not have been disclosed in a search. Unfortunately, we won’t know for sure. 

Eminem did not oppose the application for the SWIM SHADY mark prior to registration. The USPTO publishes applications and allows a 30-day period for third parties to oppose those applications or extend the time to do so. Eminem did neither. However, likelihood of confusion may be a sufficient basis to cancel registered marks.

Trademark Dilution

Eminem also argued that his trademarks will be diluted if the SWIM SHADY mark is not canceled. Dilution may occur when a famous or well-known mark is similar to another mark, such that the distinctiveness or reputation of the famous mark is impaired. Here, Eminem argued that his marks are famous because they have been extensively used and publicized for over 25 years and are distinctly associated with his celebrity. Eminem asserts that continued registration of Swim Shady’s mark would impair the unique association of his marks with Eminem. Also, any goods offered under the SWIM SHADY mark that are of inferior quality to Eminem’s goods could dilute the reputation of Eminem’s marks. Eminem may be worried that if the SWIM SHADY goods are inferior, it would cause a consumer to say I’m “Cleanin’ Out My Closet” of SLIM SHADY goods. 

False Association

Finally, Eminem argued that the SWIM SHADY mark falsely suggests a connection with his Slim Shady identity. False association may go beyond trademarks and can provide protection for a persona. Because SWIM SHADY and Slim Shady differ by only one letter and share the term SHADY, Swim Shady’s mark may create an association in the minds of consumers with Slim Shady, which could damage Eminem’s reputation. If consumers think that the goods are coming from or are authorized by Eminem and they are of poor quality, then consumers may not want to purchase other goods offered under the SLIM SHADY mark.  

Swim Shady may have chosen its mark because it’s an Eminem “Stan.” But if both marks coexist on the USPTO’s register or in the US marketplace, this could lead to consumer confusion. It may also have consumers thinking, who is “The Real Slim Shady?”

International Component

This matter is not limited to the United States.  In Australia, Swim Shady applied to register its SWIM SHADY mark and Eminem applied to register his SLIM SHADY mark. Unlike the US dispute, Eminem does not appear to enjoy priority because Swim Shady’s application was filed before his. Further, it appears that Eminem’s application was refused in view of Swim Shady’s pending application. This is a reminder for brand owners that filing trademark applications in jurisdictions where business is ongoing or may be soon is always a good strategy. Nevertheless, this proceeding could influence the corresponding US dispute. 

Eminem’s Other Recent Trademark Enforcement

It’s unclear whether Eminem will prevail in the SWIM SHADY dispute. However, this is not the first time he has pursued legal action against third parties with marks containing the term SHADY. In 2023, he opposed a trademark application owned by stars of the TV show “Real Housewives of Potomac,” Gizelle Bryant and Robyn Dixon, for the mark REASONABLY SHADY. The application covers a slew of goods and services including cosmetics, candles, mugs, clothing, and entertainment services.  Bryant and Dixon host a podcast with the same name and are known for using the slang terms “shady” and “shade.”

Despite Bryant’s and Dixon’s predilection for talking about shady activity on their podcast, they do not appear so happy with Eminem’s tactics. In a recent motion to compel the deposition of Eminem, the Housewives alleged that Eminem would not agree to a deposition other than one that would begin at 2:00 PM and last two hours. Eminem asserts that his limited availability is because of the need to be at his recording studio every morning.

Conclusion

Eminem’s trademark enforcement strategy underscores the importance of protecting brand identity in a global marketplace. While some may view his actions as overly aggressive, they reflect a broader principle: trademarks are valuable assets that require vigilant defense to maintain their distinctiveness and commercial strength. The SWIM SHADY dispute illustrates the complexities of trademark law, including issues beyond the potentially familiar likelihood of confusion analysis and those posed by international disputes. Whether one sees Eminem’s approach as savvy or “shady,” it serves as a reminder that proactive trademark management is essential for artists and businesses alike to safeguard reputation and revenue.

Every year has its “it” term.
In 2025, the crown belonged to AI, and rightfully so. AI dominated the headlines, flooded the USPTO’s dockets, and triggered more §101 rejections than any examiner would care to admit. If you worked in tech, you had to talk about AI. If you worked in patent law, you likely had to explain why simply applying AI to an existing technology is not patentable.

As a primer, a §101 rejection is basically the USPTO telling you, “Interesting idea, but the law says you can’t patent that,” usually because the claimed invention is an abstract idea. For AI inventions, this often means the USPTO argues that the model is simply performing a function that could be carried out by the human mind, i.e., “a mental process.”

2026 is shaping up differently. This year’s breakout term will not come from Silicon Valley, and it will not be something your non-legal friends casually drop into conversation, unless you are hanging out at the bar after an IP conference (and let me tell you, patent attorneys know how to party). Instead, the hottest term of 2026 is about to come from deep within the halls of the USPTO, courtesy of a December 4, 2025, memo with the energy of “I can’t believe no one remembered this existed.”

Ladies and gentlemen…2026 belongs to SMED. Yes, Subject Matter Eligibility Declarations.

A tool so underused and under-discussed that half the practitioners who read the memo had the same reaction: “Wait… we can file evidence for §101? We’ve been fighting this with words alone?”

Like the Brussels sprouts resurgence of the early 2000s, suddenly SMED is having its main-character moment.

So What Is a SMED, Exactly?

An SMED is a Rule 132 declaration that allows applicants to submit evidence, rather than just an attorney argument, in support of patent eligibility.

That evidence can include experimental results, performance data, architectural explanations, expert testimony, state-of-the-art background, and inventor declarations explaining why the claimed innovation was not routine or conventional.

In other words, an SMED gives applicants a way to show, with facts, why their invention improves technology.

A simple example

Suppose your claims involve a neural network with distributed layers performing gradient-adaptive routing and multi-modal fusion (meaning the system breaks complex data into parts, routes each part to the best tool for the job, and then blends everything back together, essentially processing thousands of conversations, images, and signals at once). An examiner may assert that the steps “can be performed mentally,” such that the claims are rejected for being directed to an abstract idea. Under an SMED approach, your inventor can submit a declaration explaining why a human mind cannot perform the network’s operations: humans cannot simultaneously compute multi-million-parameter tensors, apply real-time backpropagation, perform vectorized attention weighting, or route inputs dynamically across expert layers.

The shift began with the Desjardins decision, now precedential, in which the USPTO formally recognized improvements to machine-learning architectures as technological advancements, not abstract ideas. Reduced storage needs, lower system complexity, and the avoidance of catastrophic forgetting are technological improvements. They are eligible. They are patentable.

The memorandum from Director John Squires reminded the examining corps, and indirectly practitioners, that applicants do not need to rely solely on attorney argument to overcome §101 rejections. They can submit declarations. They can bring in experts. They can introduce objective data, performance comparisons, architecture breakdowns, or state-of-the-art testimony.

In other words, you can actually prove your invention is eligible. An SMED may be used to prove that the invention is not directed to a mental process or that it improves a neural network.

Shocking, I know.

SMED transforms the eligibility conversation from metaphysics (“But is this really an abstract idea?”) into something grounded, factual, and technical. It gives applicants a way to connect the dots between what an invention actually does and what an examiner may be glossing over. For AI, robotics, animation systems, signal processing, fintech, and any architecture-driven technology, SMED may be the star ingredient.

The truth is, SMED has been hiding in plain sight for decades—a quiet Rule 132 declaration. An optional filing that most practitioners never consider. But like Brendan Fraser’s resurgence, all it needed was the right moment, and now that moment is here.

So here we are.
2025 was the year AI took over the world.
2026 will be the year patent lawyers start asking, with increasing frequency and only a hint of dramatic flair:

“Should we just SMED this?”

More often than not, yes.

Welcome to the Year of SMED.

Merci, Danke, and Thank You—different in linguistic origin, yet all express gratitude.  Now that we are in the holiday season, you may want to convey appreciation to someone by expressing thanks or giving a gift, perhaps chocolate.  After all, saying “thank you” is commonly associated with chocolate, at least according to the Trademark Trial and Appeal Board (TTAB).

In August Storck KG v. Florend Indústria e Comércio de Chocolates LTDA, the TTAB considered whether the mark DANKE for chocolate could be registered with the United States Patent and Trademark Office despite prior registrations for the mark MERCI for chocolate. Opp. No. 91277224 (TTAB 2025). August Storck, owner of the MERCI mark, opposed Florend Indústria e Comércio de Chocolates LTDA’s application for DANKE based on a likelihood of confusion. Its main argument was that, under the doctrine of foreign equivalents, both marks translate from different languages to “thank you” and covered identical goods.

The doctrine of foreign equivalents is typically applied when one mark is in English and another is in a foreign language. The marks in foreign languages are treated as equivalents of the English marks provided that, among other things, consumers would stop and translate the foreign language marks. However, the TTAB may apply the doctrine when considering marks from two different foreign languages or from the same foreign language when assessing the marks’ similarity.

In this case, the TTAB applied the doctrine because the evidence established that the ordinary purchaser would translate the French “merci” and German “danke” to “thank you.” A shared meaning between marks can be a significant factor in the likelihood of confusion analysis.  But in this case, the TTAB found the shared meaning to be “conceptually weak.” The TTAB pointed to several third-party uses of “thank you” in connection with chocolate to underscore this point.  In other words, consumer confusion is less likely because consumers associate the wording “thank you” with chocolate.

When you think about it, it’s a fair point – whether it’s a box of someone’s favorite brand of chocolate or basket of chocolate-covered strawberries, at some point or another you have encountered the use of chocolate as a way to express gratitude.  

The TTAB also acknowledged that DANKE and MERCI are dissimilar in sound and appearance. The marks have distinct pronunciations and share no common elements. The only commonality between the marks is the shared meaning.

The conceptual weakness of the opposer’s mark appears to have been the crux of the TTAB’s reasoning. The differences in sight and sound may have sweetened the deal. But would the TTAB have reached the same outcome if the marks were GRAZIE (Italian) and GRACIAS (Spanish)?  Further, if the marks covered goods that are not commonly associated with “thank you,” would the differences in sight and sound have been sufficient to find no likelihood of confusion?  It’s difficult to say, in part because there is relatively sparse application of the doctrine of foreign equivalents when neither party’s mark  is in English.  Nevertheless, this case suggests that brand owners should consider whether adoption of a mark in a foreign language may conflict with another mark in a different foreign language.  Additionally, use of terms in specific industries could significantly impact the strength of a mark. 

Finally, this case demonstrates that, whether using danke or merci, giving chocolate is a great way to say thank you!

Introduction

A collision is on the horizon. The collision is between a strict interpretation of the human authorship requirement under U.S. copyright law, and the ascendence of generative artificial intelligence (Gen AI) as an essential element of modern creativity. From publishing and advertising to music, film, media, and software development, AI systems are reshaping workflows and redefining authorship. Yet, as this technological revolution accelerates, U.S. copyright law remains anchored to an interpretation that feels increasingly out of step: that Gen AI outputs are all ineligible for copyright and, thus, automatically ejected into the public domain.

The U.S. Copyright Office has taken a firm position on this point. Unfortunately, this stance, while perhaps doctrinally consistent, is misaligned with economic reality. Our copyright-reliant industries – arguably some of the crown jewels of the U.S. economy — cannot tolerate prolonged uncertainty about copyright ownership, protection, registration and enforceability. If copyright law and practice fail to adapt, there could be economic consequences for U.S. competitiveness. And, even at the individual level, there is a growing sense that the law should not deprive authors of the fruits of their genuine authorship, even when intertwined with Gen AI.

Consideration should be given to the ways in which copyright could evolve to provide greater certainty to our creative industries, while remaining aligned with the foundational purposes of copyright law. This article — in an all-too-cursory-but-constrained-to-blog-post manner — examines three possible paths forward, namely: (1) amending the Copyright Act to construe Gen AI outputs as works-made-for-hire, (2) amending the Copyright Act to allow Gen AI outputs to be viewed as joint works with human users, and (3) allowing the law to continue to evolve organically through the courts and agency guidance. Each approach carries implications for creators, businesses, and the integrity of copyright law.

The Human Authorship Requirement: A Doctrinal Anchor

Copyright law in the United States rests on the premise that the copyright monopoly incentivizes human creativity. Section 102 of the Copyright Act protects “original works of authorship,” and courts have consistently interpreted “authorship” as requiring a human creator. This principle was reaffirmed in Thaler v. Perlmutter, where the DC Circuit held recently that a Gen AI system cannot be an author under current law, and that Stephen Thaler, the system creator and user in the case, was also not the author of the work.

The Copyright Office’s guidance echoes this view: works “produced by a machine or mere mechanical process that operates randomly or automatically without any creative input or intervention from a human author” are not registrable. The rationale is understandable — copyright exists to reward human creativity.

Yet, the boundary between tool and creator is blurring. When a human conceptualizes the work and provides prompts, but the Gen AI determines composition and detail, is this human authorship? If a designer uses Gen AI to generate hundreds of variations and selects one for refinement, does that selection, together with the refinement, constitute sufficient creative input or control? At what point does a combination of preliminary concepts, prompts, selection and refinement cross over from non-authorship to authentic, protectable human authorship? These questions expose the inadequacy of a rigid test in an era of collaborative creativity.

Specific Areas of Concern

The creative community appears to be coalescing around at least three key areas of concern with the present state of play:

  1. Exclusion of Authentic Authorship.  There is a sense that the Copyright Office’s decisions to date are yielding inequitable denials of copyright to works that in fact do constitute authentic human authorship. As now well-known, Jason Allen undertook 624 prompts and significant editing and refinement before finalizing his award-winning Théâtre D’opéra Spatial; Kris Kashtanova developed 18 pages of images displaying consistent tonal and thematic elements, including significant editing and refinement by Kashtanova, in creating their Zarya of the Dawn comic; and Stephen Thaler programmed and trained his own Gen AI tool, and then directed its output of A Recent Entrance to Paradise. Are these artists really undeserving of copyright protection for these works? Do the works not embody sufficient origination, conceptualization, organization, selection, control, creativity, execution, refinement, superintendence and stewardship to constitute human authorship? Does denial of copyright protection for these works serve the objective of promoting artistic progress? For many, the answer to these questions is no.
  2. Burdensome/Potentially Impossible Copyright Registration Procedure.  Another area of concern involves the Copyright Office’s new requirement that applicants describe and disclaim any more-than-de-minimis contributions to the work created using Gen AI. Per the Copyright Registration Guidance: Works Containing Material Generated by Artificial Intelligence, applicants are asked to separate portions created by the human author from portions created by the AI. In many cases, this is an extremely burdensome and even potentially impossible task – works often go through an iterative process where dozens to hundreds of drafts are prepared, revised, further revised and so forth, in order to achieve the final product. Under those circumstances, can an applicant always accurately separate which portions were created by AI and which by the human? And if they get it wrong, is the registration subject to invalidation (thus putting statutory damages, attorneys fees, and the other benefits of registration at risk)?
  3. Litigation Uncertainty.  A final concern involves copyright infringement litigation. Under current law, virtually every defendant in every copyright infringement lawsuit going forward will be motivated to challenge the validity of the underlying copyright based on the potential presence of Gen AI portions. Even if a plaintiff has complied with the law and only claimed the human-authored portion of a work in the work’s registration, the copyright could still be challenged. And, if the plaintiff is unable to produce detailed records proving the exact portions contributed by the human author versus the Gen AI, the copyright could ultimately be found unenforceable. This creates a tremendous burden and great uncertainty for the future for all copyright infringement plaintiffs, and seems ultimately untenable.

The remainder of this article considers three possible ways in which copyright could evolve to meet the above challenges, to ensure both the continued robustness of U.S. copyright law as well as creating a welcoming environment for the increasing use of Gen AI to advance innovation, creativity, and productivity in our creative industries.

Works-Made-for-Hire?

One proposed solution would be to amend the Copyright Act to allow AI-generated works initiated by a human user to qualify as “works-made-for-hire.” Under current law, works-made-for-hire include those created by employees within the scope of employment or certain commissioned works under written agreement. Extending this concept to the Gen AI context would vest ownership of Gen AI outputs in the user, providing clarity and predictability.[1]

The advantages of this approach are significant. It would offer creative individuals and businesses copyright certainty, enabling them to invest confidently in various types of Gen AI-driven projects and use cases without fear of losing intellectual property rights to the public domain. Questions would be reduced about whether enough control was exerted by the human user, how authorship should be identified on copyright applications, and how copyrights could be enforced in copyright litigation. Any need to document clear separation of the contribution of the Gen AI versus the contribution of the human author would be mitigated.

This structure also makes some conceptual sense: when an employer engages an employee to develop a creative solution (whether in text, software, visual art, music, or otherwise), the employer defines the problem, task, or concept, the employee executes creative work to design a solution, and the parties may then work together to further refine the solution until finished. In that case, the employee would ordinarily own the copyright in her creative work, but that result is flipped by the work-made-for-hire doctrine – with the ownership and authorship of the work vesting in the employer instead of the employee. Analogously, a Gen AI user ideates a problem, task, or concept, prompts the Gen AI system accordingly, the Gen AI executes creative work to produce a solution, and the user may further refine the output, either with or without the AI’s assistance, until a satisfactory final product is achieved. Instead of the Gen AI being viewed as the author, the ownership and authorship of the work would vest automatically in the human user.

However, there are important drawbacks to this approach which cannot be ignored. Gen AI systems are neither employees nor contractors, and redefining “work-made-for-hire” to include non-human entities may distort statutory coherence and create other interpretive problems. This approach could also be over-inclusive and dilute the authorship principle, incentivizing minimal human input and undermining the creative threshold that copyright seeks to protect and encourage. The question would invariably be asked, do we really want to award a copyright monopoly to a work fully created by Gen AI with, say, a single three-word prompt by the human user? Is the objective of promoting progress in the useful arts still being met with this solution? 

Joint Works?

Another proposal is to treat Gen AI outputs as joint works, with the human user as co-author. Joint authorship under current law requires two or more authors intending their contributions to merge into a unitary whole, and with each contributing sufficient material to constitute authorship. Extending this concept to Gen AI would acknowledge the collaborative nature of human-AI creativity.

The advantages of this approach lie in its realism. Many creative processes now involve iterative human-AI interaction, and recognizing joint authorship would reflect this dynamic. It also preserves human contribution, ensuring users retain rights even when Gen AI plays an equal or even dominant role. Moreover, this model offers flexibility, adapting to varying degrees of human input and accommodating diverse creative workflows. It would also still require non-minimal contribution by the human author, and would allow for both the Gen AI and human portions of the work to be safely protected by copyright and not exposed to potential relegation to the public domain.

Yet, this solution is also not without challenges. Gen AI cannot own anything, making “joint authorship” a legal fiction. Further, determining the threshold of human input required for authorship would introduce ambiguity. This approach would still suffer from the need for the human to demonstrate a non-minimal contribution, and courts would struggle to apply consistent standards. This uncertainty could lead to litigation difficulties that may be no better than the challenges of the present legal situation, with disputes over how much human authorship was present and whether this amount was sufficient for the human to be considered a joint author of the work. (That said, the minimum threshold for determining whether a contribution is sufficient for participation in a joint work is well-trod legal terrain; in theory, this would be a significantly better and more certain area to litigate versus the as-yet uncertain area of identifying the boundary between copyrightable human-authored works assisted by Gen AI and Gen AI-produced works ineligible for copyright.) 

Organic Development; Just Let it Be?

The third path is to let the law evolve organically through judicial decisions and Copyright Office guidance. Under this approach, courts would continue to distinguish works that are “substantially Gen AI” (ineligible) from those with “sufficient human authorship” (eligible), refining standards case by case in a slow and laborious process.

This approach offers several advantages. It avoids premature legislative overhaul, allowing nuanced, fact-specific evolution as technology matures. Judicial flexibility ensures that courts can adapt standards to emerging realities without locking in rigid statutory definitions. Importantly, this path preserves core principles, maintaining human authorship as a doctrinal anchor while accommodating incremental change.

However, the drawbacks are considerable. Prolonged uncertainty leaves businesses and individual creators navigating a legal gray zone, exposing them to risk and inconsistent outcomes. This ambiguity could chill investment in AI-driven creativity, deterring innovation in sectors that depend on copyright certainty at a time when these industries should be innovating and taking advantage of the opportunities offered by AI augmentation.  Fragmentation is another concern, as different courts and agencies could adopt divergent approaches, creating a patchwork of standards that complicates compliance.

Conclusion and Next Steps

Unlike many other hype-curve developments in recent years, Gen AI truly seems to challenge copyright law at a fundamental level. Strict interpretation of the human authorship requirement to exclude Gen AI outputs seems increasingly impractical in a world where creativity is often co-produced by humans and machines. No solution is perfect. Legislative reform offers clarity but risks doctrinal distortion; organic development preserves principles but prolongs uncertainty.

In the short term, the Copyright Office could refine its guidance to provide clearer thresholds for human authorship, reducing ambiguity for creators and businesses. It also could consider acknowledgement of a broader array of contexts in which human authorship may be recognized and potential relaxation of application requirements. In the long term, Congress will likely need to act — whether through a works-made-for-hire model, a joint authorship framework, a hybrid approach or something else — to ensure that copyright law remains fit for purpose in an AI-driven economy and can continue to incentivize creative expression.  

This article covers complex topics in insufficient detail. Further research is warranted in the following areas:

  1. How do the philosophical foundations of our concept of “authorship” inform our perception of human authorship in the AI era? Is our “author concept” a relative historical notion that could be updated to meet current practical reality, or is it necessary for legal continuity? 
  2. What exactly does the Constitution’s mandate to promote “progress” in the useful arts mean? What types of behaviors and outcomes – aesthetically, economically, culturally, and phenomenologically – are we intending to promote with copyright?
  3. Are our copyright-reliant creative industries really so copyright dependent that AI disruption to copyright ownership certainty poses a serious economic risk? Is it possible that newer business models and technology are sufficient to render uncertainty in copyright not so bad?
  4. Some works, like the rejected Allen, Kashtanova and Thaler works, seem worthy of copyright protection despite the role of Gen AI, while others – an image, say, resulting from a three-word prompt to Midjourney with nothing more, e.g. – do not. What principles should guide the Copyright Office and law to better determine which works are monopoly-worthy and which are not? Would there be harm in granting at least “thin” protection to users in connection with Gen AI outputs?

[1] As outlined in a prior post, Dr. Thaler, together with a collection of scholars in an amicus brief, have advocated for the construal of Gen AI works as works-made-for-hire, with Dr. Thaler as the putative employer/commissioner and his Gen AI “Creativity Machine” as the putative employee/contractor.

Thanksgiving is finally here, which means the turkey gets its annual moment in the spotlight. For 364 days a year, the turkey is just trying to fit in. It was forced to take on roles it never auditioned for. Turkey bacon. Turkey sausage. Turkey pastrami. Turkey pepperoni on pizza that never asked for it. All year long, the poor bird is cast as an imitator, an understudy, a lean protein cosplayer trying to play the part of its delicious but decidedly fattier cousins. But on Thanksgiving, there is no disguise. No turkey trying to impersonate a pig or a cow. No turkey in witness protection program packaging. It is simply turkey. And it is glorious.

In honor of the one day when turkey gets to be itself, I decided to dig into a few turkey-themed patents. As it turns out, inventors have been tinkering with the bird for decades, and not always in ways that scream culinary elegance. The earliest turkey inventions were really attempts to make turkey more convenient for people who loved the flavor but apparently hated the shape. One of my favorites is U.S. Patent No. 2,640,779, a vintage patent from the 1950s directed to a loaf or log of turkey meat. Imagine looking at a whole turkey and thinking, this is nice, but what if it were shaped like a giant deli brick? The patent describes a method of separating white meat, dark meat, and various flavor bits, then wrapping them in skin, compressing the whole thing into a roll, freezing it solid, and cooking it under pressure. The goal was to create a uniform turkey log that could be sliced like bread. If turkey bacon is an imposter, this was the original turkey impersonator. It is Thanksgiving flavor wearing the body of a meatloaf.

The loaf invention eventually evolved into canned turkey, which is memorialized in U.S. Patent No. 2,761,786. This one takes the turkey log, puts it into a can, bakes it to draw out the juices, seals it, sterilizes it, and hands you a product that looks like a cross between Spam and a Thanksgiving flashback. The patent proudly explains that the goal is to maintain the illusion of freshly roasted turkey even though it has been wrapped, pressed, frozen, cooked, baked, canned, and sterilized. It is Thanksgiving, but with the shelf life of an MRE. As a patent attorney, I admire the creativity. As a Thanksgiving guest, I quietly hope to never encounter canned turkey at dinner.

Fast forward several decades and we arrive at a much more modern attempt at turkey engineering with U.S. Patent Publication No. 2005/0118315, a patent application that set out to solve a very real holiday crisis. Every year, millions of people buy a frozen turkey, proudly place it in the fridge, and only later discover that thawing a twenty pound ice brick actually requires an amount of time normally associated with planetary rotation. This invention tried to save the day by saying, do not bother thawing at all, just cook it frozen. The idea was to place the solid bird inside an oversized cooking bag that traps steam while giving the turkey enough space on all sides so heat can thaw and cook it evenly. It is essentially a spa day for a petrified bird. As a Thanksgiving technique, it is not bad. As a patent strategy, it is an example of someone saying, trust me, the key is in the bag geometry.

The application goes into great detail about the exact inches of air space between the turkey and the walls of the bag, the position of the juices as they pool and self-baste, and the way the steam circulation supposedly solves every turkey-based woe. Unfortunately, like an actual turkey trying to fly, this one never really took off. The application was published, but it was never allowed. Perhaps the USPTO decided the world was not ready for legally protected frozen-bird spa technology. Or maybe the claims were perched a little too precariously on the edge of obviousness. Either way, it now lives alongside the Spruce Goose, bird pun fully intended, in that special hangar reserved for ideas that almost soared but ultimately stayed grounded.

And if you think turkey logs, canned turkey, and frozen bird steam chambers represent the limits of human imagination, let me assure you that turkey-related innovation goes much, much deeper. We are missing one minor detail. How do you catch a turkey in the first place. For you city slickers, it is easy to forget that turkeys are actually wild birds. Wild Turkey is easy to catch and caused a lot of adventures in my 20s, but that was the bourbon, not the bird. So let’s focus on the bird, not the top shelf. Ok, fine, mid shelf.

Enter U.S. Patent No. 4,531,924, the turkey calling aid. Essentially, the ‘924 Patent is directed to a strip of cloth with flaps along the sides that a hunter holds by the ends, brings the hands together, then rapidly jerks apart to make a sound that allegedly resembles a turkey flapping its wings as it flies down from its roost. That is the entire invention. But the real gravy is in the laser-focused claims. First, the strip must be longer than it is wide. The ends must be reinforced. The flaps must be attached to the side edges. Then the claim requires the user to carry the “strip into the woods at or near dawn to an area where wild turkeys are considered likely to roost.” The user must first move the hands toward each other, then jerk them apart quickly. If you modify almost any detail, you are probably no longer infringing. This method is so narrow it could probably walk through the eye of a needle and still have room to stretch the cloth.

Like Uncle Eddy bringing up politics at the dinner table, this is another reminder that some things should be left alone. When your claim requires you to physically haul a strip of fabric into the woods at dawn to a location where turkeys are likely to roost, it might be time to reconsider the drafting strategy. As a practice point, anytime your claims start reading like a Boy Scouts field manual instead of defining a technological contribution, you are probably narrowing yourself into oblivion. It may be smarter to step back, rethink the inventive concept, and pursue protection for the core mechanics rather than every last feather of the process. And if that is not possible, well, there is always the log of turkey meat.

So this Thanksgiving, if the conversation starts to sag because Aunt Kathy ran out of boxed wine, feel free to liven things up with a few fun facts about these humble turkey patents. They have been quietly doing their best to carve out rights in a world where poultry reinvention is never truly finished. Some reinvent the bird as a loaf or even a can. Some try to solve cooking crises involving frozen turkeys and questionable bag geometry. And one fearless patent stakes its entire claim on the exact hand motions needed to mimic a turkey’s morning wing workout. It all serves as a reminder that innovation pops up in the most unexpected places, even in the holiday traditions we take for granted, and that the joy of patent law is realizing that people will try to patent absolutely everything, including the sound of a confused turkey at dawn.