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The ship is sinking.

2006-10-23T19:50:00.000-07:00

Here's the liferaft.

Weekly Update

2006-10-11T17:32:00.000-07:00

I may or may not post more regularly, but I at least thought I'd try to avoid misrepresenting my meager ambitions.

1. Appellate advocacy (the graded part, at least) is over. Turned in three identical copies of my brief on Monday. I still have to do oral arguments, but they're pass/fail, so I'm not terribly concerned.

In case I haven't mentioned it, appellate advocacy is the devil. It's a class where you apply real law to a fake situation and pretend to care. As in the care's not real- it's fake. Got it? Good- explain it to me.

2. Still riding my bike 3-4 days a week. One of the more enjoyable parts of my day.

3. Went to the Mississippi State Fair Monday night. My Asperger's was manageable, as it's easy to get lost in large crowds.

4. I've got an Evidence mid-term coming up, a Business Associations project due soon, and a paper scheduled in Electronic Research Seminar. Fun times, indeed.

5. Apparently North Korea detonated a bomb (or didn't, sources are in conflict). At any rate, it was 22 times smaller than the one dropped on Hiroshima. Looks to me like Kim Jong Il is rattling his saber, trying to get some attention. He's like a puppy, really.

6. That's about all I've got. I think my well is exhausted- don't look for any earth-shattering truths anytime soon. Of course, with an average of 20 hits a week without posting anything, it might be good for business if I stay away.

Asperger's

2006-09-29T12:52:00.000-07:00

Shape-shifted and formed before leaving the crib,
Words are rolled about for weaning,
Bounced off of tongue and tooth,
Silently chastised and bantered about.
(Should I use alliteration?
An allegory perhaps- but shall it muddy my meaning?)

My Isolde is not mine at all-
I have held them and loved them so much
In their youth- they have become their own.
Thus, like a late-aged Cronus
My children fall from my lips
A shameful glory if there ever was-

I am so fashioned and formed
In speech and thought that
Nature alone subdues the shape.
Raw in her unheeded power,
She reminds me of what men were
Wrought to make- namely, life and love.

She has no snytax but that of time
No diction (truth offers no choice.)
Her poems are silent, yet always speak
With a haunting and reverent voice.

It is here, among the altar of elms,
That I lay this burden, when words, like slaves
Threaten to forget their master.
I fall full of clumsiness, and speak like a child
In uneven, fitful bursts.

The veil I wear is invisible,
Yet complete-
No one pierces it but my wife.
Her love for me, and my love for her
Arms her with a lover's knife
That bares me- naked and weak
The words so formed, refuse to speak
Then crumble back to the clay and dust,
Leaving me mortal, for a moment at least.

Congress Caps Interest Rates on Payday Loans for Military Personnel

2006-09-29T12:15:00.000-07:00

Apparently Congress has decided that payday loan businesses have been using "predatory" behavior to screw over military personnel. With loans averaging 400 percent annually (with some states allowing higher) people are falling into a financial black hole, one which sucks the money out of their pockets faster than they can make it.

I have four major problems with this legislation.

1) It's anti-capitalism. Although it's a nice gesture, I'm more of a laissez-faire economist. The market generally sorts itself out. There's a reason no one can sell a live chicken for $10,000- the market won't bear it. So the price is lowered until you find a willing buyer. This is true of all things- couches, platform shoes, antique furniture, etc. The price in a free market is what a customer is willing to pay.

If someone wants (or needs) to borrow money, they've obviously decided the "price" is good enough to do it. It might be highway robbery, but the other person doesn't have to help them in the first place.

2) It specifically targets military personnel. I admire the military, but perhaps we should pass legislation that will benefit all who use the payday loans, just not the men and women in uniform. Then again, I suppose it's okay if they use "predatory" lending practices on the guy who wanted to join the army but has a heart condition. Sheesh.

3) It fails to take into account what will happen as a result of this legislation. Either (a) payday loans will either stop giving military personnel loans- no one says they have to, or (b) they'll offset the loss in profits by ramping up the interest rates on non-military personnel. Or get one of their bazillion lawyers to find a way to tack on more "late fees" for both parties until the numbers add up. It's band-aid legislation passed around election time, meant to look good but do nothing particularly helpful.

4) Lastly, it fails to look into the reason the problem exists. Perhaps there's a reason that military personnel are forced to use payday loans? Perhaps they're not paid enough? Perhaps those who defend our right to do anything we please should make enough money where they don't have to hunt out the vultures of the lending world?

I'm sorry, that's logical and makes sense. Surely Congress would never understand.

So, instead of empowering them to direct their financial lives, we've only managed to slightly dull the moneylender's blade when he comes to take his pound of flesh. He still gets a ragged and bloody ounce, though, and the wound still bleeds just as much. However, thanks to #1 above, Congress won't raise wages until people come to the conclusion that the current salary isn't worth it, and move on. I can't imagine this story is really helping with military recruitment. Eventually, the numbers of those enlisting will force the issue to change.

Hiatus

2006-09-29T12:10:00.000-07:00

I haven't been posting for a while.

Not sure why- perhaps the magic is gone. This will officially be my 481st post, and I'm dreadfully aware of how shallow the proverbial barrel has become.

It seems I must either take this blog in a different direction or just let it die a dishonorable death, left to rot among the vestiges of Internet carrion. It certainly wouldn't be the first.

I haven't decided quite yet what to do with this beast- when I do, I'll let everyone know.

Al-Qaeda Cracks Disney Vault, Preparing to Release Return from Witch Mountain on Unsuspecting Public

2006-09-26T19:37:00.000-07:00

AP, Washington, D.C.-- Government authorities have learned that at 9:53 p.m. last night, Al-Qaeda terrorists managed to breach the top-level security at the Magic Kingdom. Details are scarce, but we do know that the Vault's location has changed several times, probably to thwart overly ambitious MGM executives.

However, no one could have foreseen this.

In a daring late night raid, terrorists seized such charming classics as The Apple Dumpling Gang and The Rocketeer. Mustard gas canisters and heavy-duty explosives were found among the ruins, quite possibly to explode the fourteen-inch steel walls that protect the cinematic masterpieces.

Even worse, after dealing with the extensive clean-up, they learned of the real target.

In an exclusive scoop, Al-Jazeera television released a filmed threat, stating that Return from Witch Mountain would soon be airing, simultaneously, on every American's TV. Mass chaos, quite expectedly, quickly ensued.

"I can take the fear of never leaving my home," said Ted Danderford, area resident, "but the acting of Christopher Lee? My God, man. My God."

Biking Log #3

2006-09-26T19:22:00.000-07:00

Saturday I tried to bike to a nearby town, but gave up and turned around. It's difficult when you're not riding a loop, because you don't know how much gas you have in the tank to turn around. All said, though, I biked roughly 10.5 miles in an hour.

Today I headed south, and found a new road that I think will become my favorite. It carves its way through the earth- probably was once a horse trail- and has little traffic. In fact, only one car passed me the whole time.

I biked 38 minutes and 12 seconds.
I traveled 7.177 miles.
My average speed was 11.3 miles per hour.
My top speed was 26.7 miles per hour.

Biking Log #2

2006-09-22T17:44:00.000-07:00

I biked on Tuesday, but I forgot to reset the biking calculator so I didn't have any hard facts to share. However, thanks to rudimentary calculations on my part, I can say my performance was about the same as on Monday.

Wednesday I took a break. On Thursday I walked for thirty-five minutes on the treadmill, since I had gotten home to late to bike.

Today was different.

Today I rode 6.099 miles.
My time was 28:00 minutes even.
My max speed was 23.8 mph. (On Tuesday I hit a good hill and topped 30.)
My average speed was 13.1 mph.

The difference between an average 13 mph and 10 mph is amazing. My legs feel like stiff Jello, if that makes any sense.

Time to sit on the couch and watch TV.

This is me.

2006-09-21T06:52:00.000-07:00

Soon, I want to get a backpack and a walking stick and wander into the deep woods. Perhaps early Saturday morning. I want to spend hours just looking and thinking about the things I see and the things I think. I'm tired of society, and need a break.

I'll come back before the sun comes down, and fit in as best I can with the surrounding world. But I don't want to lose a part of myself in the effort.

I've always suspected that I have a mild form of Asperger's Syndrome (AS). Basically, it's characterized by those who have weak social or communication skills. It can gradate, meaning that some have a very severe form (more akin to autism) and others just have a dash, so to speak.

Most of the social and communication skills I've developed in my life have been quantified, not actually learned. Communication is easier, due to the fact that words are words, and sprung forth from the speaker to stand on their own. Watching movies and reading classic literature as a child gave me a splendid vocabulary, which I latched onto. (Most of those with AS have a extraordinary vocabulary for this reason.)

Social situations are harder. I can do it- I frequently have to- but it's not me. It's a guise learned from other social situations and by watching others. I basically play a part for the person I'm talking to. Maintaining the false layer of insulation is exhausting. But as a result, I've become an adept observer of others.

For example, in the class I'm currently in, I can guess with perhaps 90% accuracy the answer to the professor's "yes" or "no" questions, just from her body language and the nuance she places on the last syllable. It's slight, but it's there. But, unlike others, the instinct is not there- I must rationally listen for it and make a predictive hypothesis based on past situations. It's hard to explain.

My social situations are not usually a problem because either (a) my personality is such that I avoid social situations, or (b) my disorder has shaped my personality such that I have been led to avoid social situations. Sadly, my social threshold is so low that I receive all the social interaction- aside from my wife and our respective families- I would ever want from this blog. I'm a recluse, I guess you'd say. I don't hate people, but I also don't feel an undying need to connect with them. I understand that most people don't feel that way, and I understand the normal human desire to connect with other humans. I just, in large part, don't share that drive.

So that's me.

The Camry rolls again...

2006-09-19T19:59:00.000-07:00

On Sunday I finally installed my radiator. It took longer than expected, and I had to have some help, but it's fixed. The new hoses fit great and everything is where it's supposed to be. She's been running for two days now, and no temperature issues to report. I should probably check the oil, though.

She cost $600. The alternator I put in cost $100, and the new radiator I put in cost $140. Odds and ends have run roughly $100 for necessary parts, including oil and a new spare tire.

So for the past six months, operating costs have been around $340. Not bad for six months of (mostly) dependable transportation. Car price included, that runs to about $5 dollars a day- the equivalent of paying a $150 a month car note. She doesn't turn any heads, but I get to keep a lot of money in my pocket and actually know that I can fix problems on my car when they occur. At this stage of my life, that's more important.

Thrift Store Find

2006-09-19T19:53:00.000-07:00

Today I went looking for a bike store that used to be in the area but apparently it's moved. So instead, I went thrift store shopping at the Salvation Army.

I love poking around thrift stores. Most of the time I don't buy anything, because I'm not a fan of clutter, but every now and then I find something I want. (Mental Note: If I ever need golf clubs or crutches, go there first.)

Today I was about to give up, when I came across a rack of coats. Normally used clothes don't entice me, because I don't like thinking that someone else has worn it. But I found a grey wool trench coat that looked to be in fairly good condition. It's roughly knee length. If there's anything I hate, it's a short coat. They just look pointless. And since I'm six feet tall, standard coats look strange.

When I got home, I noticed the buttons had little crosses embossed in them. And there was a slit in the back. Odd. I did some checking on the Internet and apparently I had purchased an authentic Swiss military coat. The slit in the back is for horseback riding. They're not worth much, but I didn't see any on sale for less than the $6.41 I paid for it.

I live in Mississippi, so I won't have much use for it, but it'll come in handy for a few weeks at least.

Healthy Turn

2006-09-18T20:29:00.000-07:00

For some unexplained reason, I've felt the desire to lead a healthier life. No one pushed me, and my lack of overall health wasn't something that barred me from doing the things I liked to do, since most of the things I did were unhealthy. In other words, I wasn't really upset that I couldn't run a marathon. I'd just sit on the couch, eat a 7-layer burrito from Taco Bell, and tune in to the television.

I tried to jog for a while, but my left knee has always given me trouble- so I turned to a bike.

Also, I've not smoked a cigarette in over three days. I went to Wal-mart on Friday and purchased the Equate version of Nicoderm, the patch that helps you quit. I didn't have so much a problem with the physical aspects of smoking- I'd quit plenty times before- but the mental habit of doing it would lead me astray. When you've smoked for over a year you pick one up without thinking about it. So the patch delivers enough nicotine to keep me sane, but helps me break the habit of actually smoking a cigarette.

Besides from the fact that they itch like hell for the first fifteen minutes, they've worked great. On Saturday, my father-in-law threw a family get together to celebrate a grandkid's birthday, and almost everyone was smoking. I wasn't even tempted, which is saying a lot.

Also, I'm taking a daily multivitman, ester-C, and trying to cut down on my calories in order to lose weight.

Note: I don't want people to think that I'm morbidly obese as I type this. I'm roughly six feet tall and weight 195 pounds. I'm what one would call "T-shirt" overweight. That's where you can hide your gut just fine with a polo shirt or tucked out dress shirt, but it shows if you're just wearing a T-shirt. When I began this odyssey, I was at 205, and quickly approaching "polo shirt" territory, so I knew it was time for a change.

I did some calculations, and apparently I was eating roughly 2900 calories a day. Which was fine when I was eighteen, but isn't so good now. So I'm trying to limit my caloric intake to 1500 calories a day until I'm down to my ideal body weight. Trust me- I'm not anorexic. That said, I'm going to keep going until I reach for my stomach and find nothing to grab.

The first ten pounds flew off, probably because of water loss. Now it's a slow road, but I'm walking it. I'm thinking that the fact that I'm biking everyday had probably muscled up my legs a bit, so that might be why my weight has stabilized.

I know that was probably too much information for the average reader to care about, but I felt like posting it anyway. I find that the things that make me uncomfortable to confront are generally the things that make for the best entries.

Biking Log (Or, Apparently I Suck)

2006-09-18T20:21:00.000-07:00

I'm going to start keeping a record of my biking exploits so I have some sort of external motivation to continue. Normally they'll be quite short, but since this is the first one I thought I'd start out with a bit of background.

I bought a $9.24 bike computer today that is amazing- it calculates speed, distance, time, and a whole host of other factors. When I bought it, I couldn't figure out how it did it- it's roughly the size of a large matchbox. When I opened the package, I saw that somehow had figured out an ingenious way to do this.

There's a small magnet that attaches to a spoke. Then you attach a sensor to the frame- less than a millimeter from the magnet- and it calculates your speed based on how often the two pass each other.

(For the nerds out there- you have to input a calculation of the bike diameter, so the distance measurement is accurate.)

I tested it out today for the first time, and this is what I got.

I traveled 6.478 miles in 38 minutes and 19 seconds.
My average speed was 10.2 miles per hour.
My maximum speed attained was 23.4 miles per hour.

That comes to roughly six-minute miles, which is kind of sad. There are tons of people who could have run that distance faster than me. But at least I have ample room for improvement. In my defense, I am riding a fairly heavy bike with mountain bike tires, but still. Hopefully that number will improve.

Lawyer Quotes

2006-09-18T10:39:00.000-07:00

I stole these quotes from here, but it appears that many of them are old enough to escape copyright concerns. Also, many people are too lazy to click the link, so I thought I'd save you the time by listing my favorites.

Litigant: A person about to give up his skin for the hope of saving his bones. ~ Ambrose Pierce

God works wonders now and the,
Behold a lawyer, an honest man. ~ Benjamin Franklin

The lawyer's truth is not truth, but consistency of a consistent expediency. ~ Henry David Thoreau

(I find that quote humorous because it backs up everything I've said about Appellate Advocacy to begin with- how they're teaching us that Truth is relative.)

I think we may class the lawyer in the natural history of monsters. ~ John Keats

A lawyer with his briefcase can steal more than a hundred men with guns. ~ Mario Puzo

Lawyers spend a great deal of their time shoveling smoke. ~ Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr.

I would be loath to speak ill of any person who I do not know deserves it, but I am afraid he is an attorney. ~ Samuel Johnson

StatCounter

2006-09-15T22:34:00.000-07:00

I finally allowed public access to my StatCounter data. I'm not a privacy freak or anything- I was just lazy. The link is on the right.

I thought it would be a good addition, as people are naturally curious about what other people are doing. In fact, it's such a good (and free) program that I bet it's already recorded your visit as you're reading this. Click here to find out.

In that vein, I have a question for my usual readers.

How did you stumble across this blog? I'm interested in the little quirks and turns of life that bring ideas together. I am positive there are people who read this blog regularly that found this site by happenstance. I'd like to know exactly how that happenstance occurred.

Feel free to leave a link to your blog in the comments section- that way I'll get to peer inside the heads of my readers.

Irwin

2006-09-15T20:35:00.000-07:00

I've tried to wait a while before posting about Steve Irwin's death, out of a modicum of respect. More and more so, the Internet is used as an excuse to say things without a sense of decency or compassion. Anonymity, in whatever form, generally leads to caustic comments. The ability to disagree respectfully goes out the window, and we're left with vituperative diatribes that do nothing to advance the discussion.

I think Steve Irwin's heart was always in the right place. His methods might have been suspect- disturbing wild animals in their natural habitat is always a little iffy- but he meant well. He raised lots of money for wildlife organizations and zoos, especially in his native Australia. So if a crocodile had to be terrorized for a few moments in order to help his brethren, it's probably worth the stress to the crocodile. By the same logic, we capture and track wolves to keep track of them, in order to better protect their numbers in places. I'm sure they don't want to be captured, but it's worth the inconvenience whether they know it or not. I understand the SPCA or some other animal-rights organization called him out on his use of animals to gain publicity- and there's certainly some merit to that- but at least he didn't wrestle them for the sheer fun of it.

I lost a lot of respect for him when he dangled his infant near the crocodile before the crowd at the zoo. I'm sure he thought it was incredibly safe. He's not insane. But I think he overestimated his abilities. Even if there was only a 1% chance that crocodile would attack, it's not a risk worth taking. It's a simple cost/benefit analysis. You risk your life everytime you get in a car to go to work. However, the benefit of going to work and making money is worth the slim risk of getting hurt. Dangling a child near a crocodile carries no benefit- except for the crowd's pleasure, which is pointless- and carries risk. So it's stupid. It smacked of showmanship and turned my stomach. If he wants to risk his own life, that's great. But a defenseless child? That's just plain reckless.

That said, I think his death is more a testament to Nature's power and unpredictability than Irwin's carelessness. One can learn to encounter a crocodile and deal with it effectively time and time again, but a surprise split second near a mostly non-fatal creature can turn out deadly. There's no "standard operating procedure" for animals, and no one can predict with absolute certainty how they'll behave.

I'm fairly sure Irwin wouldn't blame the stingray for what it did. It was simply doing what a surprised stingray does- defend itself. It was just sheer bad luck that the barb hit where it did. Four inches to the left and he'd probably be laughing about it right now. But he wouldn't hold a grudge against the animal. Even though his methods were somewhat flashy and a bit flawed, he always maintained a sense of respect for the animals he encountered.

html

2006-09-15T20:26:00.000-07:00

I wish I were better at designing my web page.

I'd really like to put a colored border on either side of the page, but I can't figure out how to do tables and such.

I'll go to websites that have what I'm looking for and look up the "view sources" option with the mouse, and the whole thing looks like Japanese. These guys are WAY beyond my limited skills.

Luckily, I figured out how to make a banner, so I threw that up there. But it'll be awhile before I can come up with anything more clever than that. Sad, but true.

(I'm also posting this to knock off the picture at the bottom- even I'm not vain enough to have two pictures of myself on the same page.)

Doomed to Repeat It?

2006-09-13T19:43:00.000-07:00

This quote comes from William Federer about the fall of Rome. There are several eerie parallels, in my humble opinion. Read over it, ruminate, and let it digest. You can always vomit it back up later.

"Rome fell September 4, 476 A.D. It was overrun with illegal immigrants: Visigoths, Franks, Anglos, Saxons, Ostrogoths, Burgundians, Lombards, Jutes and Vandals, who at first assimilated and worked as servants, but then came so fast they did not learn the Latin Language or the Roman form of government. Highly trained Roman Legions moving rapidly on their advanced road systems, were strained fighting conflicts worldwide. Rome had a trade deficit, having outsourced most of its grain production to North Africa, and when Vandals captured that area, Rome did not have the resources to retaliate. Attila the Hun was committing terrorist attacks. The city of Rome was on welfare with its citizens being given free bread. One Roman commented: 'Those who live at the expense of the public funds are more numerous than those who provide them.' Tax collectors were 'more terrible than the enemy.' Gladiators provided violent entertainment in the Coliseum. There was injustice in courts, exposure of unwanted infants, infidelity, immorality and perverted bathhouses. 5th-Century historian Salvian wrote: "O Roman people be ashamed... Let nobody think otherwise, the vices of our bad lives have alone conquered us'."
- William Federer

"The only people who can bring us down [America] is ourselves.
- paraphrase of Jon Stewart on The Daily Show

I think there's enough in there for both Republicans and Democrats to chew on. But I think there's a greater connection than mere political ones. It appears that the best way to destroy a great civilization is not with a weapon, but from within. The societal loss of basic morality, a cultural refusal to practice isolationist policies and economic self-reliance, and multitudes of citizens who only leech from the government's coffers appears to be the hallmarks of doom. Are we there yet? No.

But I fear we're in the ballpark.

Tidbits

2006-09-13T19:34:00.000-07:00

After my latest post, my stats dropped substantially. I suppose half my audience doesn't like what I'm saying.

Surely my soul will wither and my flesh will fall from my bones like chaff. Any minute now... Waiting...

Wait. I'm still here.

Generally speaking, this blog is apolitical. (I'm mostly Libertarian, so I sit by while everyone else rips each other to shreds.) One could take my latest post any number of ways- perhaps I believe it, perhaps I feel that was what Bush was really thinking, perhaps I felt that brutal honesty was a better option than fancy speeches. Perhaps it was none of those things. Or all of them. The point is, the reader will see in it what they want. Or what they don't want. Oh well.

Snakes on a plane, I suppose.

Moral of the post: I'd rather talk to myself online than cater to ideologues on either side of the aisle who deal with disagreement by refusing to face it.

Me: Hey, what's going on?
Me: Not much. You?
Me: Just sittin' around, talkin' to you.
Me: Cool.
Me: Hey, I left a comment on your latest post.
Me: Really? Awesome!
Me: Yeah. You're an idiot.

That's what I'm talkin' about. And yes, I'm insane.

The Speech Bush Should Have Given

2006-09-12T21:57:00.000-07:00

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I believe in my heart that what I'm doing is right. You elected me, you re-elected me, and now my job is to lead this country as I see fit, while staying within the parameters set by the United States Constitution and the limits set by the system of checks and balances. I realize my approval rating is in the tank. To be honest, I don't care. I would rather suffer in the arena of public support that see this country lose in the arena of national security. So lambast me, ridicule me, and poke holes in my argument. I don't care. Make fun of the hesitant way I speak or how I blink my eyes while I talk. Don't care.

Terrorists are bastards. Plain and simple. I could hire another fancy speechwriter to come up with words that aren't mine, but I'm tired. They're bastards. They don't understand anything but brute strength, and I'm not looking for an interpreter. Their goals and dreams revolve around us being dead. All of us. Here's hoping they never wake up.

Let me explain what we're doing in Iraq- exactly what they did to us on September the 11th. You see, they knew that more of us would rush in to save our fellow citizens when the towers struck. They used our greatness, our courage, against us that day. When the towers fell (an act beyond their wildest dreams) they killed more because so many of us wanted to stop the loss of life.

I went into Iraq because Saddam had flaunted U.N. resolutions like they were toys. No one knew for sure that he didn't have weapons of mass destruction, and Republicans and Democrats alike fell for the faulty intelligence, faulty intelligence created partly by my father and party by Bill Clinton. So we went in. Now that he doesn't have any weapons, people say it's a bad idea.

Look at it this way- a cop sees a man who has a long prison record standing over a woman in an alley. He goes to investigate. Turns out he's actually helping the woman. The cop made an error in judgment. But was it a mistake to check it out? No. Even if there was a 5% chance that Saddam had a weapon of mass destruction, it was worth it to extinguish that chance. Because Saddam would more than likely sell it or use it or hold us hostage with it.

So now we're in Iraq and everyone's crying to get out. But guess what- we're killing terrorists. Lots of 'em. They're scrambling from all over to try and stop us. And they're dying. Why, pray tell, would terrorists come from all parts of the Middle East to fight us in a country that apparently means nothing to them? Either they want to kill Americans or they realize that a stable and free Iraq is a black mark on their reputation they can't erase. Citizens in their own countries will either move to Iraq or yearn for freedom themselves. Either way, it's a valid reason to stay in the country and stack up the bodies like kindling until we run out of bullets.

So we're using their hatred against them, just as they used our love against us. It's messy, and politically incorrect, but it works.

I'd rather kill every terrorist on the planet and leave office in the most unpopular way possible than go out to standing ovations with bastards and fascists who want us dead still able to harm us and our way of life. So go ahead, make fun of me. I truly don't care.

God bless America."

Insight

2006-09-12T13:31:00.000-07:00

I just had what I think is a marvelous observation about the human condition.

The truth doesn't form our opinions- our opinions form our perception of the truth.

Take a person who says, "I hate raccoons." They might not know why, but their opinion will instantly come up with reasons to hate raccoons. They carry rabies, get in garbage, etc.

Take a person who says, "I love raccoons." They might not know why, but their opinion will instantly come up with reasons to love raccoons. They're inquisitive, intelligent, etc.

This is why debate is largely pointless. People believe different things because their personal beliefs and opinions is what controls the scales of truth. A person can believe something that's perfectly wrong because they'll find evidence to support it. Because they want to believe it.

I think our society, as a whole, would be much better off if we would explore the facts with a clear eye before forming an unbiased opinion. Unfortunately, we're all human. So we harbor our biases, prejudices, moral weights, and indoctrinated beliefs as children. Which determine for us not only the life we lead, but how we live it.

Adventures in Bicycling

2006-09-12T07:23:00.000-07:00

I've been riding my bike roughly 6-8 miles a day for the last few days. Thanks to this, and the fact that lately I've been eating better, I've lost roughly 6 0r 7 pounds. I'm not fat by any means, but I carry some weight in my stomach. If I lose ten more pounds, I'll be back down to my high school weight.

Bicycling is great fun- the tortures of going uphill gives way to the exhilaration of speeding down. The steeper the hill, the greater the reward. A lot of analogies for life in bicycling, I suppose.

Also, dogs hate bikes for some reason. I've had countless dogs chase me in the past few days.

One of them lives roughly half a mile from my house. Her name is Bell. She's a hairy off-white dog that is very territorial. Looks like a militant ghost as she patrols the perimeter of her yard.

The first day she chased me I was able to get away. I never actually thought she would bite me, but I wasn't willing to test the theory.

On the second day, she grabbed my calf and crunched down. Luckily, I was wearing my blue jeans (couldn't find a clean pair of shorts) so she only barely broke the skin. I wasn't scared due to the event, but there's a certain level of archetypal rattling that occurs when an animal pierces your flesh with its teeth. It's hard to explain, but it's there.

Needless to say, I was a bit wary when I passed by Bell's house the third time. So I decided to get out and walk the bike. It was dimming twilight at this time, and everything had a Blair Witch Project glow to it- that short period of time where the contrast between bright and dark is magnificently cast before fading away into the eventual doom. Just the right kind of light for Bell to glow like a demon before biting off my leg.

Then it gets worse.

Right when I'm halfway past her house, I hear a kid yell in a Children of the Corn type manner, "Buuuuuddddyyy, Beeeelllllllll, Buuuuuuudddddyyy, Beeeeeelllllllllll." He was calling home his beasts. He paused every few moments, but the voice never stopped, never changed. Eerie.

My first thought: "This is what it's like to die."

Second thought: "I think it's time to go."

Bell finally came out, but I was too far gone for her to give chase. However, I'd rather her bite me again that hear that boy singing like that again.

Portraiture

2006-09-11T21:50:00.000-07:00

Subtle Shades of Sickness

2006-09-11T12:21:00.000-07:00

I'm coming more and more to the realization that I really don't want to become a lawyer.

Why? Because of a class called Appellate Advocacy.

Appellate Advocacy is a class where we write briefs in the defense of our clients to an appellate court. Later we argue these briefs before a fake panel. For our efforts, we receive a grade.

That all sounds great and good, but it's main purpose is to introduce everyone in class to moral relativism. In my small group meetings, this is a normal discussion.

"How can I spin this fact to better help my client?"

"How do I leave this out without making it look like I meant to?"

"Should I say he suffered a serious injury, or just say injury, since it would benefit my client more."

I could feel my soul slipping away.

In advocacy law, perception attempts to become the reality of a given situation. What actually happened isn't important- what lawyers make judges and juries think happened is. Ugh.

I refuse to practice in a career where I have to profess slipshod morals in order to better defend my client. I was raised to believe it's better to lose with honor than win by being a total jackass.

Of course, I could be wrong about that. But I doubt it.

Bought a Bike

2006-09-10T13:51:00.000-07:00

A few days ago I went to the Bike Rack, a store in Jackson that sells high-end bicycles. I was wanting to price some road bikes to see what it would take to get started. I prefer to jog, but my left knee gives me fits. I thought this would be a good exercise option.

Well, they had some very nice bikes. Treks. Like the kind Lance Armstrong races. The cheapest one was $750 and weighed 19 pounds. It looked like it would fly.

I thought about it for a while, and decided that I'd better actually prove to myself that this bike riding idea isn't just a short-term thing before I spent that kind of money on a bicycle.

So I went to Walmart and bought a brand new bike for... $53.77. It's heavier, but it gets the job done. And since it weighs more, it takes more effort, and thus you have more exercise. Yesterday I rode it for about six miles and today I took it on a 7.5 mile bike ride. I have to be conservative because I don't yet know my limits, and I have to turn around at some point and bike back home.

Tomorrow I'm going to go to a bike store and pick up "road" tires for it- supposedly it makes a big difference. Right now I'm bumbling about on mountain bike tires.

Radiator Round One

2006-09-07T19:19:00.000-07:00

Well, I pulled the old radiator out today. Took a little over an hour. Covered in oil and dirty antifreeze, and my fingers are throbbing from struggling with those rusty spring clips that grip the hoses. But it's done.

Didn't really have many unforseen problems. I began by taking off the fan unit, which bolts onto the radiator itself. Or to be more accurate, I took it halfway off. By the time I tried to Helen Keller the lower bolts a few times with a crescent wrench, I realized that it would simply be easier to disconnect the electrical plugs and pull the whole unit out as one.

That only left the hoses. I actually managed to pull two off clean- the upper radiator and the runoff hose that goes to the reservoir. Considering that I'm fairly sure no one has replaced these clips in at least ten years, I think that's pretty impressive. They'd been rusted shut in a few places.

After taking off two of them, my hands hurt like hell and I was ready to quit. So I grabbed a knife and started hacking. I figured it would make sense to replace all the hoses anyway (they're mighty cheap) if I was going to all this trouble in the first place. I was already in a hundred bucks, so I might as well spring for another thirty or so.

Once I pulled the radiator, I proceeded to separate the blower fans and mounts from the radiator. Unfortunately, I stripped one of the bolts, so one of the blower fans is still mounted to the old radiator. I either need to find a way to remove the bolt, cut the part out and just go with three bolts (which I think would work fine,) or find a new blower fan.

I hope to use another afternoon to prep the car for the new radiator, i.e. full removal of old hoses, fitting of new hoses, etc. Then, I'll use one last afternoon to fit the new radiator into the car. Here's hoping that works.

Back in One Piece

2006-09-05T19:48:00.000-07:00

Well, we made it.

Got in late Friday night and went to sleep. On Saturday I headed north to Metropolis, Illinois, which apparently some guy has turned into the de facto Superman capital of the world. I think they even had the original movie phone booth from the Christopher Reeves era, but I couldn't swear to it.

I bought a T-shirt and a baseball cap. For being such a tourist trap, the prices weren't all bad.

Sunday was spent hanging out and visiting Franklin, Tennessee. Apparently Franklin was one of the first cities to be developed around a central courthouse layout.

On Monday, my wife and I took our time driving back home via the Trace, a 440-odd mile stretch that connects Nashville to Natchez. Along the way, we made a coffee detour to Columbia, Tennessee, which happens to be the birthplace of James K. Polk.

I'll fill in the gaps later, but I just wanted to assure my ever-shrinking audience that I haven't given up on the blog.

Nashville Bound

2006-09-01T14:29:00.000-07:00

I'm about to leave work, pick up my wife, and drive to Nashville to visit with my sister.

It might be a few days before I'm able to post again. Then again, it might not. I'll just have to see.

At any rate, I'm sure I'll have plenty of blogalicious tidbits to write about when I get back. That's right- I said blogalicious. So sue me.

Happy Labor Day all!

Whirlwind of Opinion

2006-08-30T21:26:00.000-07:00

I was perusing MSNBC.com a few moments ago, and saw a few headlines that arounsed responses in me. I thought I would post them here.

1) New Orleans is not going to be moved. I heard people talking about it on the O'Reilly Factor radio show a few days ago, and the whole thing is ludicrous. It's a practical idea, but you have to factor in the human quotient- we're too damned stubborn to let a little thing like logic get in our way. So we'll rebuild, and 100 years from now it'll be destroyed again. You heard it here first.

2) Ray Nagin actually apologized for something? The fact that he was re-elected after Hurricane Katrina really eviscerates the weak underbelly of democracy. It's based on people- sometimes, really stupid ones who vote for stupid reasons.

3) Survivor is dividing up their "tribes" by race this season. Which is a gimmick. Because the creator of Survivor knows that people like their gimmicks in America. Gimmicks equal dollars. Whether it's a good or bad idea- as so many people like to discuss- is moot. People are talking about Survivor. As a result, Jeff Probst can now afford that new jet he's been eyeing. Sigh. Note to self: I really need to train my seal to tap dance to Michael Jackson tunes while riding a llama.

4) I saw a picture of the "mystery" animal on Boston Globe's site. It looked like a weird dog. Kinda wolfish. Some type of dog/wolf combination. I don't think Mendel has a problem with that.

5) Islamic fascists want to kill us. That statement is true. Islamic fascists will try to kill us in Iraq. That statement is true. Islamic fascists will try to kill us in America once we leave. That statement is true, but not as true as the first two. They don't seem to have much of a beef with Australia. But now that we're there, we're a target whether we leave or not. So we shouldn't leave, but we also shouldn't fight with one hand behind our back a la MacArther in the Pacific theatre. Nor should we be building schools and taking manpower away from our armed forces while combatants are killing our troops. We have the technology and the people to turn any country in that region into a parking lot. I'm not saying we should do that, but maybe err on the side of war when it comes to destruction. Politically correct wars are ineffectual wars. We weren't worried about camera angles when we ended Hitler's reign. We can foster goodwill after all the bad guys are rendered harmless.

6) There's some 14-year old boy in Nepal who is 20 inches tall. That's not a misprint. 20. As in Twenty. As in I've eaten sandwiches that were over half his height. My prediction- his dream to be a sherpa is going down the tubes in very short order. Pun intended.

7) Jerry Springer is going to be on Dancing With the Stars. Didn't Orwell write something about this somewhere? Or was it Huxley? I forget. Lesson- start packing up you canned goods.

8) There's a Hurricane threatening Mexico and Ernesto is restrengthening. Since Hurricane Katrina, news organizations get excited when kids play ring-around-the-rosy while the winds blowing. History has taught us the next "big one" will come after all the hype has died down.

9) Apparently Katie Couric is going to host CBS New's flagship news show soon. I don't understand the excitement- a robot could do that job. She's a reporter the same way the real estate agent is on the construction crew. Reporters dig out the truth. People who had cameras at the World Trade Center were reporters. People who showed the footage later are relaters, exhibitors, informers, but not reporters. Blah.

10) Wal-Mart is trying to go upscale, to compete with Target. Wait, Wal-mart already makes more than a gabillion dollars more than Target. So why compete? Cater to your clientele. They'd be wiser to invest in new ways to fit more pickles in a jar, and better barbecue sauces. Because the average Wal-mart customer is not looking for upscale. If they wanted that, they'd go somewhere else- say Target- and gladly pay more money. Wal-mart is for the pennypincher who is one level above thrift stores. Basically, 85% of the general population. Sam Walton is turning over in his grave.

Cracked Up

2006-08-30T18:35:00.000-07:00

Today while I was driving my WonderMobile (i.e. the $600 Camry) I noticed the temperature gauge was acting screwy. Thinking that it needed more oil- a constant issue- I poured in a quart. A few minutes later, the gauge continued its crazy trip up and down. It never ran truly "hot", but it gave me a few scares.

Once I got home, I lifted up the hood and quickly found the source of the problem.

A small hairline crack, roughly two inches across, had formed across the top of my radiator. Orangish antifreeze steam was shooting out of it.

The good news is that I've located the source of the problem, and replacement radiators aren't terribly expensive. Aftermarket ones, made of a high-tech plastic, are generally pretty durable. And it'll surely last the remaining life of the car.

The bad news is I need a new radiator.

Oh well. It beats making a car payment every month.

Pop Culture Song

2006-08-28T20:36:00.000-07:00

It's hard to really explain how I hear this in my head, but I think it has its most potency if one envisions the following "ditty" behind a sort of Willy Wonkaesque type motif. Also, if you can imagine a chorus of children singing "da dum da dum da dum da dum" after each line in an overly cheery singsong manner, the effect is particularly chilling. One could also envision them acting out each line, but I'll spare you your sanity.

Big Brother bouncing around in my head...
I really ought to think about the bed
But Jon Stewart zings some real good jokes
And Colbert skewers lots of folks
It's easier to just watch TV instead.

You really should visit myspace, they said,
It's a happenin' place where things get read
About parties and people and fabulous places-
Human contact in empty faces!
It's the best way to feel alive when you're mostly dead.

America's got talent, Regis Philbin roars...
He makes his millions, the ratings soar
As far as situations go, it's a win
But David Hasselhoff, again?
I think a need a running start- and a sword.

Pop stars reinvent and make more cash
Sometimes the pan needs a bit more flash
Time's running short, better bank it in
Before the fans' patience runs too thin
Crap still sounds like crap, when it's been rehashed.

Hollywood seems to have it all-
Fancy cars and alcohol
But they can't buy a new movie plot
With Superman dying and James Bond shot
It looks likes sequels will sell a few more dolls.

So people watch the lights each night
Content to watch what feels most right
Entranced by the various stations'
Oppressive and one-sided imaginations-
Living, in entertained ignorance, of their plight.

A Blog's Death

2006-08-28T18:54:00.000-07:00

I have little expertise in this area, but it appears to me that the great majority of blogs begin with a spate of flurried posts, and then quickly die unexplained and unexpected deaths.

Why is this, I wonder?

Allow me to humbly posit a few theories on the subject.

1) The New Technology Phenomenon

People like new things. Like prepubescent raccoons, we like to tinker with things for a while and then leave them be when they lose their sparkle. Blogs, and the web in general, are no different. Major technological advances are probably discovered by about 3% of the population. The rest of us just tag along and use the newfound technology to post pictures of ourselves jumping out of windows on YouTube.

I shudder when I think of all the iPods laying around that haven't been used for months, because of exactly this same principle. We are truly the ADD generation. Why is reality TV so popular- because it always changes. If there was a TV show that simply showed random 20-second clips of anything and everything, it would never go off the air. TV execs, take note.

For these people, blogs are never a long-term commitment. Soon they move on to more exotic things to try, like skydiving and crack cocaine. Just kidding- nobody skydives.

2) Sense of Isolation

I suppose, out there somewhere, is a blog that contains a breathtaking truth. Yet the blogger never received a visitor, and the truth still sits out there, waiting to be found.

I'll get on a soapbox about visitor and link whoring all day long, but the truth is that you need at least a few regular visitors each day to give a damn. Without the interaction of others, there's no difference between this whole fiasco and a journal/diary. Or a stick and a cave wall.

Of course, said threshold is relative- some are happy with a few hits and others have visions of delusional grandeur. It is those who are self-assured that their blog will lead to stardom and invites to Paris Hilton parties that are doomed at the start.

So there are those, for whatever reasons, never generate enough feedback and give up out of desperation.

3) Lack of Original Material

I wouldn't even begin to guess, but there are a LOT of blogs out there. They all can't have original material. So the neophyte blogger, having a few good ideas to share, runs into a cognitive stalemate. Faced with either the choice of blogging about things no one wants to read in a bland way or simply walking away, many choose the more noble path.

Of course, there are those who steadfastly refuse to die, and post eighty-four pictures of their pet tortoise. These are the unfortunate ones. They are already dead, yet they do not know it. Only their online shells prance around for the mocking world to see.

They are the jesters of the internet court.

Of course, the problem is aggravated by the fact that the average human has not been instilled with a love of diction, punctuation, or accuracy in writing. In normal life, writing is simply not a prized skill. The meaning is still somewhat important, but the craft of encapsulating it in a presentable skein has largely been lost. Thus it is a frustrating experience to struggle with the written word. Blogs that are not fun to update and simply not updated.

The Difference Between Me and Others

2006-08-28T16:00:00.000-07:00

Today I was on the law school campus and I saw a lone foam packing peanut flit gracefully to the ground.

The average person would look at it and say to themselves, "Huh. That's a bit odd," before continuing on their way, the experience forever buried in their minds.

I, however, instantly envisioned a scenario where a top secret government cargo plane had been grievously attacked, and that moments later what was left of a pilot's burning corpse would hit the ground with a sickening thud. (It didn't, by the way.)

The thing is, however, is that it could have.

Karr

2006-08-28T15:53:00.000-07:00

Apparently the DNA didn't match with Karr. So the charges were dropped, as expected.

Here's my thing- shouldn't he be (to borrow a Bushism) held to account for his actions? One shouldn't be able to make false statements to authorities, get a free trip to Colorado, tons of publicity, and waste countless law enforcement funds and hours simply because one is a jackass.

I'm fairly sure making false statements to authorities is an indictable offense. Thus, they should bring charges. Maybe they will. If they don't, every cook and crazy is going to come out of the woodwork, just to get their five minutes of fame.

Maybe I'll admit to the Lindbergh kidnapping. Or the Kennedy assassination. Whatever floats my boat. Maybe I stole a CIA computer filled with sensitive data. Who knows? The only limit is my imagination, and after they find out I didn't do it, I'll get a book deal and an interview.

America's strange.

Plastic Golf and Walmart Economics

2006-08-28T15:37:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I accompanied my wife to Walmart to buy various household goods and sundries.

Walmart is, if nothing else, an American cultural phenomenon. It was only a matter of time, I suppose, before someone blended great thinking and capitalistic fervor to create the "super" store, one in which a person could buy both shoes, iPods, flowers, and Edam cheese in one visit.

In truth, however, one could probably trace the development of Walmart to the old days of the Roman bazaar. Centralization has always been a key component to retail success. When malls were just starting out (in the 50's and 60's) they were basically Walmarts with various owners hawking various goods. Now it's all just owned by one company.

No one can deny that the venture has been an outrageous economic success. But I would be remiss if I didn't raise the point, oft vaunted by its most ardent critics, that it has caused the mom-and-pop stores to disappear. I bemoaned this very point in an earlier post about the death of a small hardware store in the town where I work.

But even while admitting this realization, it is easy to forget that if Walmart hadn't caused this event, some other company selling the same items under a different name would have. It's the nature of capitalism, and business in general. So I think it would be more proper to bear witness to the societal values that existed when one ran to the general store to get flour, than it is to blame Walmart for destroying that culture. After all, Walmart only makes money because people frequent its doors. They service a need society has deemed important. Their job is not to quantify or qualify that need- it is only to meet it. Society is a catalyst for business- the converse is rarely true.

That said, I went to Walmart and found a kid's plastic golf set, complete with three plastic golf balls, flags, and clubs. I was most impressed with the detail to the clubs- there was a driver, a pitching wedge, and a putter. All was conveniently contained in a golf bag- plastic, of course. The price of the set was $4.00. Surely a steal.

So I bought two sets, and me and my wife are going to play golf in our yard. We'll play a hole, count the strokes, and the winner will decide on the next hole layout.

Simple, but quite fun.

Busy Weekend

2006-08-28T15:29:00.000-07:00

Things I've done since my last blogging effort:

1) Went to my 2-year old niece's birthday party. It was a nice reminder of a time when being pushed in a plastic car down the road was the highlight of the day.

2) Attended a karaoke party Saturday night with my wife and some of her old high school friends. Met lots of interesting people. The highlight was watching the gathering across the street get bothered by police.

3) Sunday was devoted to working on law school related assignments and watching episodes of MythBusters. There was also time for a brief trip to Walmart, where I picked up a few goodies I'll blog about shortly.

So, the blog is far from dead. But with the first week of law school having recently crashed over the shore of my consciousness, I needed a few days to lay exhausted on the sand.

Don't you just love extended metaphors?

Pluto Not a Planet?

2006-08-24T16:20:00.000-07:00

Apparently the tribe of Astroners on the Island known as Earth has spoken- Pluto has been voted off the solar system.

Yep- Pluto, everybody's favorite underdog celestial body, has failed to make the cut.

Apparently, roughly 10 percent of the world's astronomers voted a few days ago to change the definition of the word "planet," and their new definition weeded Pluto out of the bunch. They did so partly because keeping the old definition would mean several dozen new planets would have to be added to the solar register, including Charon, Pluto's satellite, and Ceres, a sizable asteroid near Mars.

So it was either nix Pluto or let a whole new cadre of planets into the procession.

Here's what I think is funny. We have a hard time categorizing the thing we live on.

Trust me, I can't think of a good definition, either, but it's quite humorous to recognize how little we're able to categorize our surroundings. Are planets based on size? Orbit? Presence of satellites? Prettiness? Tradition? If not those, then what?

Regardless of your definition, Pluto will always be a planet in my book. Because that's the way I learned it. Truth, when it comes to something so inconsequential, is irrelevant to the universe as I know it. If Plutonians were to somehow abduct me in my sleep, I certainly wouldn't point out to them that they don't live on a planet. That just seems like a bad idea. On the other hand, if it's a Jeopardy question, I'd go with the astronomers. Truth in this instance, being nebulous, must necessarily change shape relative to the opportunity it presents.

At any rate, our categorization of it changes nothing. We could call it a huffalump, and it would still be what it is- whatever that is. So I find it funny that scientists are arguing over this issue, when they should really be looking for more black holes and aliens. I say "more" because we all know they already landed once in Roswell.

I saw it on TV.

Subpoenas

2006-08-24T16:04:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I headed north of Jackson to serve subpoenas. A subpoena is a document which requires your presence in court to testify for a given purpose. These were federal subpoenas, which means you have to supply the subpoenaed person with travel expenses and a per diem fee. Adding even more gravitas to the whole occasion was the fact that I was serving the subpoenas at a federal correctional institution.

I expected to find a man with over-sized glasses and a hound dog, but instead I found modern structures and bland architectural lines. The grass was nice, however- I found it was too perfect to walk on, sign or no sign.

What's neat about subpoenas is how far-reaching their power is. If you just ignore one, the judge might very well issue a bench warrant for your arrest, and the sheriffs will throw you into jail until you feel like complying with the court's demands.

Most people, even if they don't want them, simply accept them because they're not expected. No one thinks, "I bet I get served a federal document today." At least, no one I know does. So when the thing happens, they're so awestruck they take the thing before they get the good sense to run away and hide. Because if you don't accept the subpoena, you don't have notice, which means you're not under the court's power.

I find I'm best able to serve subpoenas when I act like an idiot. People recognize slick behavior from a mile away and let up their guard. However, if you turn on the folksly charm, people let down their defenses and then WHAM! they're served and you're out the door.

To make a long story short, I was able to serve the subpoenas and make a little bit of money for my efforts.

Sorry this post isn't more exciting. Every day, however, can't be a parade of memorable dreams and rosy-cheeked cherubs. Sometimes it's just a day.

BlogLines

2006-08-22T19:18:00.000-07:00

I've known about this for a while but I aways forget about it before I can use it. Which is ironic, because the whole point of it is to instantly remind you of things. Odd. Anyway, it's a neat idea. You subscribe to blogs and I assume you get an e-mail whenever they post something. That way you're not (as I tend to do) constantly updating various websites.

It's a free service, and seems pretty useful. And I honestly wouldn't recommend it if I wasn't about to try it out myself. Later I'll post my opinions and/or reviews of the service for the curious. Here's the link if you're feeling adventurous.

EDIT: I'm trying it out now. I was able to find every blog I generally read, which is good. It'll take a while to figure out how useful it is, but it should save time. It appears you go to their site and they import the information, as opposed to them e-mailing it to you. The verdict's still out, however. I'll render a final decision later.

Synopsis

2006-08-22T18:51:00.000-07:00

Spruced up the ol' site a bit today. I think they're mostly good changes.

Today's events are a good encapsulation of what my life will be like for the next semester, so I'll repeat them once now, instead of ad nauseum for the next four months.

I woke up and headed to my 8:00 class. Business Associations I. Surprisingly, the teacher seems humanlike (as opposed to most professors) and started off the class by showing the movie/documentary "Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room." Very entertaining. I just hope the rest of the class doesn't take this as license to act like morons the rest of the semester. There is still a streak of the high school student extant here; if the teacher would allow it, some of them would act like animals. Despite the fact that they're paying thousands of dollars to learn, they'd still push the limits as far as they could. It's sad, but true, that most people are only constrained as much as external, and not internal, forces dictate.

After that, I ran off to work for a few hours at the law office. I think I'm actually more productive when I work in short bursts- I know what I need to do, do it, and then leave. Tomorrow I'm not even going to work- I'm leaving between class to serve federal subpoenas.

After work, I went to my 2:30 class. It's two hours long yet appears interesting.

At one point in the class, the teacher paused for a bit in order to let us explore a website. After a while, she began talking again. Everyone instantly stopped talking except for one person who continued to talk. She didn't say anything but I was silently aghast. It's a very small class and the student was maybe ten feet away from her. Yet he/she was oblivious. At what point does your radar not pick up the fact that maybe you should stop talking? Sorry- it's just a pet peeve. I did used to teach, after all.

Then I come home and, hopefully, study a bit.

So that's it- class, work, class, and study.

I can feel your jealously from here.

Blogger Data

2006-08-21T20:14:00.000-07:00

According to Statcounter, I received roughly 30 hits today. Most of those were from unique visitors- nine or so had never before been to the site.

30 is an incomprehensible number to me. I understand it's miniscule compared to the millions of people who frequent YouTube, but 30 people a day are coming here just to view the things I write. Weird. Weird indeed.

Apparently -probably due to lisahutch-I'm developing a small Canadian following. Canadians, let me say this- I've always thought you to be our quieter, more civilized cousin. When the bombs drop over here (from one of the dozens of countries that hate us- that is not in any way a political statement, just a sobering reality) I would appreciate an invitation to your country. I've heard Vancouver is beautiful, and I even know a little French if that would help.

The Eastern Seaboard, by and large, seems to like my blog a bit. When I pull up a map of geographic hits, it looks like a target map from Hitler's war room. Whether that means I'm decidedly liberal (I'm not; just a balanced thinker) or humorous in an effete fashion escapes me. Meanwhile, the Pacific Northwest seems to hate me. That's fine- I hate them too. Just kidding. It's only an utter disdain at this point.

It's weird to ponder the ramifications of this blog. People I've never met (and probably never will) know more about me than mere strangers should. But I don't care. And what of this, for those who follow The Twilight Zone's crazy logic. Suppose someone took an extra few minutes to read a post, and I thereby spared them a grisly death on the interstate? Suppose, on the other side of the coin, a death was caused because someone lingered too long? Perhaps a jilted lover finds the object of his hatred glued to the computer screen, reading one of my missives?

That's a strange thought, indeed.

Regardless, thanks for visiting. I love Canada and the Eastern seaboard, and hope I don't accidentally cause a heat-of-passion murder.

First Day Down

2006-08-21T19:45:00.000-07:00

First day of my second year of law school is over.

Blah.

It was interesting, but it's no match for the frantic, fuel-inspired event that is the first day of law school as a 1L. You could feel the anxiety amoung the 1Ls. Some of them were buying half the bookstore, emptying it of its stock of study aides and outlines. Hilarious. Others, smug in their brilliance, sat around and daydreamed about how they were going to change the world into a place where everyone sits around and plays hopscotch- when they weren't telling everyone else who would listen how important they were. Here's a tip I've picked up from experience: If you have to tell people how awesome you are, you're probably not. Sorry.

One was also able to observe the ritualistic 1L mating frenzy, as marriage-obsessed females dressed with the decorum of drunk flappers and sniffed out eligible bachelors. That parade will continue until about October, when cold weather and unrealized dreams will sequester their objectives until the next year.

But for me, it's just another day, albeit one where I have to get up and sit in a classroom.

Appellate Advocacy appears as if it will be a ton of work. Not looking forward to that one much.

Evidence should be interesting- my professor appears to know what he's talking about. He should, after all, he's a Court of Appeals Judge.

Con law is highly philosophical- thus I find it terribly exciting. Not very practical, mind you, but nothing exciting usually is. Except for, maybe, fire. And cars. And laser beams.

Never mind, that was obviously a mistaken belief the more I think about it.

The good thing is that since my wife is working at the law library, we will be able to carpool three out of five days a week. Take that, ExxonMobil! The other two days we'll have to take separate cars, as I'll be working part-time out of town. Today we went out for lunch at Wendy's. Apparently there's a Vanilla Frosty now. Must be tasted soon.

In other news, my plan of not using a laptop seemed to work well. I paid attention for the most part. Toward the end of Constitutional Law (my last class- a full two hours!) I turned my Coke bottle top into a wheel by taking the little plastic ring it attaches to when unopened and slipping it over (with some difficulty) the narrow end of the cap, thereby making a rudimentary wheel. It's always bothered me how the cap rolls in circles in its natural state, since one end is bigger than the other. It reminds me a little too much of a one legged duck.

Other than that, I took notes and followed along. Short summary: Hamilton liked the idea of a government bank- Madison didn't. Washington wanted a bank so he accepted Hamilton's interpretation. Next up- the court case that affirmed it. Oh, the intrigue!

Tomorrow, I have Business Associations I (it's as boring as it sounds, I hear; God only knows why they have a Business Associations II) and Electronic Research Seminar.

Electronic Research Seminar will likely be my favorite class. It's small (it's not exactly a sexy legal topic), interesting, and will be somewhat helpful if I decide to go the law librarian route after graduation.

After all, I likes to keep my options open.

Headline

2006-08-20T19:01:00.000-07:00

According to MSNBC.com and various other news outlets, roughly 20 Shiite pilgrims were killed by snipers as they marched in Baghdad in commemoration of a saint's death.

I have trouble reading the news for precisely this reason- my brain takes the sanitzed heading from the page and gives it an unbearable flesh that makes me gasp. When I read that, this is what I actually see.

A man or woman walking for his faith in the unbearable midday sun. He or she is lost in the throng, hundreds of thousands strong. There will be no glory here for this person. No one will notice that he made the pilgrimage; no one would notice had he stayed home, as perhaps he was tempted to do, instead of make the trek. But something- faith, a sense of cultured duty, the desire to be a part of something larger than himself- bade he or she to make the walk.

That person is probably tired and has probably known people, perhaps relatives, who have been killed in the violence. Yet, instead of taking up arms, he marches, without weapons, into the heart of Iraq.

As they pass buildings and a cemetery- as they have so many times before already- they hear gunshots. At first there is no leap of the heart or excruciating terror of the chest. Gunshots, after all, are common here. But then a woman, wearing a black robe, falls beside him.

At first, no one notices, so large is the crowd. He is transfixed, unable to move. Then others see the woman, bullets fire again, and full-on panic grips the crowd.

He feels a burning in his shoulder- reaches up and feels the heat of his blood on his fingers. He would fear the death which is sure to come but the onslaught of thousands of pilgrims fleeing knock him over, the upstart sand choking out the fears as he tries in vain to breathe.

His last vision is that of dust and sky and pain and people screaming around him. He thinks of his daughter, his wife dead now a year, and the fact that he'll never complete the trip. Then his misery is ended as a panicked pilgrim, so packed in as to not even see the ground, accidentally crushes his throat.

Later, a reporter will view the scene and readers halfway around the world will read, "20 Shiite Muslims killed by snipers on pilgrimage in Iraq." And we'll read it and leave it in a few minutes time. For the news only gives us the facts. They can't give us (nor do we ask for) the truth.

Sans Laptop

2006-08-17T18:03:00.000-07:00

I think I might abandon my laptop for a while, at least as far as school is concerned.

The thing is, I get distracted too easily. The Internet is just too much of a temptation when I'm trying to learn about Constitutional rifts and the intricacies of Limited Liability Corporations. Or so I assume.

Last year a few of my more distracted moments included;

1) Painting a picture of Abraham Lincoln with a program called ArtRage.

2) Making a glue type substance out of artificial sweetener and Dr. Pepper, which I then used to glue the bottle top on.

3) Making a paper football game by keeping score with where I hit the side of my Property textbook.

4) Sculpting out of paper a cowboy, complete with hat and bucking bronco.

5) Drawing and painting (with coffee) a picture of my hand.

Yes, the computer is just too much. When you're so easily distracted that a fly ruins your concentration for days, one would probably do best to avoid technology in an academic setting.

So I'll just be taking my books, a notebook, and a pencil. A very bland pencil. One that elicits no impulse or burst of creativity. It can't be too short or too long or too sharp or too dull. The eraser must be worn down in a most average way. Preferably perfectly round with an unassuming color to boot. I'll have to sand off any writing on the side.

I'd better get started.

Principle

2006-08-17T17:31:00.000-07:00

Today, in preparation for my grand adventure tomorrow, I went to buy a spare tire. I had been driving around for a while without one- mainly because there's no where I desperately need to be if I do get a flat- but I decided it was time.

On my way to drop off the flat tire, I saw something curious. First, I need to back up.

There's a gas station on the way to the tire place. It's actually a combination gas station/restaurant. A while back the restaurant closed and a Sprint store moved in. I'm not sure when all this happened because I wasn't here, but happened it did.

For as long as I can remember, this particular gas station has always displayed the Ten Commandments near the road. They are set on a metal post and face out to the passing traffic. I always admired it, mostly because it takes courage to believe in anything in this society. I would have felt the same admiration had it been a Buddha statue or Koran or yin-yang symbol. I might not have believed it myself, but I would have upheld the choice. This is America, after all.

Anyway, today Sprint was having a "Free Phone" sale. Which means a lot of bright, yellow signs. And a medium-sized tent. And a banner. Nothing out of the place there.

However, the banner was attached to the tent and the... wait for it... the Ten Commandments. Not only was the banner attached to the pole that supported them, but the other tether was placed over Them.

Someone saw a display that serves as the basis for Judaism and a large part of Christianity and decided it would make a good anchor for a banner. I'm not the most religious person by any means, but that doesn't mean I would use an altar to tie my shoe or a synagogue to sell my wares. There just must be certain limits of decency in society.

After thinking for a moment and debating with myself, I slowed down.

I pulled in and walked into the Sprint store. There was a young man and woman in the store. One instantly leapt to attention and said, "How may I help you, sir?"

I paused for a moment, because I really hadn't prepared a speech, then began:

"I don't mean to cause a stir or anything, but I just think it's in bad taste to use the Ten Commandments to support a free phone banner. I know it won't change anything, but I just felt like I had to say something."

I was greeted by utter silence. Blank and unblinking faces.

So, like an idiot, I continued.

"Like I said, I know it won't change anything, but I had to say something or I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight. Well, have a good day."

I took one more look at their blank faces and then headed out the door.

I'm pretty sure it'll stay there until the sale is over, but I stated my opinion.

And America is nothing if not a place where we can voice those.

Freak Show

2006-08-17T08:03:00.000-07:00

How about this for a law? If you walk around and look like this guy, you get your basement searched. Immediately.

Make a constitutional exception or a new amendment. "If you look this creepy, due process shall not apply to thee."

I see about one or two people a week that just have this look, so to speak. There faces are void and emotionless. And it's not because they're tired or worn out- they're just nuts. They could break a person's neck the same as ordering a pizza.

Their moral compass is shattered. Right and wrong? What's that? They simply do things because there minds imagine them, and they can.

If you've been living under a rock, the man to the right is John Mark Karr. He allegedly admitted to the killing of JonBenet Ramsey in a botched kidnapping attempt. For years, her parents were hounded by the police and press.

From the little I've read, it appears this is a pretty solid connection. The Ramseys' lawyer has stated that Karr lived near them for a time in Georgia. He reportedly thought he was in love with the girl after seeing her in beauty pageants.

Sick. Sick. Sick.

Dr. Scholl's Footwear Victim of Intense Shellin', No Longer Gellin', Reports Say

2006-08-16T17:36:00.000-07:00

Mainstream media has taken a heavy lashing over its inaccuracies in portraying the recent Israeli-Lebanese conflict, but most damning is its complete ignorance of the horrific footwear devestation.

Bloggers, determined to get to the source, have uncovered evidence that a Dr. Scholl's plant near the Litani River has suffered severe damage due to Israeli shelling.

"The whole thing just went up in flames," said one worker who asked to remain anonymous. "We didn't even have time to grab any insoles. Needless to say, we were running to save our lives in mild discomfort. Most of us, after all, have bunions."

The insoles, developed out of a space-age technology similar to that which created Jello, has long been a target for the Israelis. The Lebanese have used the factory in the past as a propaganda point, as proven in this excerpt of a recent rallying speech:

"Friends, we cannot let the infidels take our lands and run us into the sea! They will take our women, convert our children, and worst of all- take our beloved foot care products and prance around as if they are walking on clouds! Do you dare stand for this? I think not."

Apparently, one partially intact insole has been found at the site of the blast. It was instantly rushed to a major Beirut hospital in an attempt to repair it. At that moment, it became more than just a weird gel inside a plastic shoe-filled sleeve- it was a symbol of Lebanese hope. Doctors and cobblers worked throughout the night, but the outlook is grim.

"As of right now it's in critical condition. It's really touch and go at this point, to be honest." After a slight hesitation and a catch in his voice, he said, "There's a chance it'll never gel again," before leaving in a panicked hurry down the hall.

Self-Portrait

2006-08-16T17:04:00.000-07:00

This would be an accurate representation of me if (a) I was related to Popeye, and (b) I was able to somehow devolve by 300,000 years. Other than that, it's pretty close. But give me a break, It's Microsoft Paint.

Adam's Eve

2006-08-15T18:24:00.000-07:00

Hated death!
A dearth of thread
To heat the hearth
Of heart and head.

A catered creator
Traced a reactor
(A darted terror?)
Retarded horror

Now there's shrapnel
Parsed and blown here.
Perhaps the field
Of defiled devils
Will live, filed
And sharpened-
Evil, deep, and vile.

Nuts and Bolts

2006-08-15T18:04:00.000-07:00

I feel inclined to introduce a new blog entitled Cache of Reason. I do so because I personally know the author, and also because it appears it will contain lots of informational nuggets for those applying and/or entering law school in the fall.

Along that same vein, I feel that the title of my blog is a misnomer. I haven't really posted about law school in a while, and as of right now I have no desire whatsoever to change that habit.

I don't really care. I probably should care more, but I can't. Believe me, I've tried. A lot.

I enjoy learning about the law, but I also enjoy working crossword puzzles. And walking outside. And learning how to juggle and watching TV.

But none of those things define me. I'm not a law student or crossword fanatic or walker or juggler or TV watcher. I'm all those things and more.

For that reason, I'm changing the name of this Blog, so as not to mislead people. It's slightly unfair to have someone look at "Musings of a 2L" and instead find a sermon on the evils of mortgages.

I hope you like the new title- what it lacks in originality it makes up for with accuracy.

The Mortgage Trap

2006-08-14T18:46:00.000-07:00

Mortgages, I believe, are largely the work of the devil.

A house that costs $70,000 to build is sold by the developer for $90,000. Then it is sold by a realtor for $120,000. By the time you pay off a thirty-year mortgage, you've paid over three times the value of the house- roughly 300k- to the bank. So everyone gets a profit- except for the homeowner.

If you have a mortgage, multiply your monthly payment by the number of months of the mortgage and you'll find the "true" price tag.

Since the average American can't afford to buy your ordinary house outright, I suggest that we all participate in a minor housing revolution. At the very least, I will.

The house you see above costs slightly over $10,000. It is 800 square feet in total. It comes in a kit that can be constructed by two people in a little over two weeks. It's all steel frame makes it durable and basically maintenance free, at least for the exterior. You can visit the website here, if you're interested.

Of course, the kit doesn't come with plumbing, electrical, insulation, or anything else you'd find in a house- it's just a shell.

But it's a start.

I refuse to live under a mortgage. I know people who are making LOTS of money a year, and yet have nothing to show for it. Their monthly bills often match or exceed their income, and they've basically become wage slaves. Most importantly, the mortgage payment takes 33% or more of their income every month, most of which is interest. If they were sick and had to be out for more than two or three months, their financial life would be in shambles.

Thoreau once said that a man is rich in proportion to the number of things he can afford to let alone. A rich man who cannot drop everything at a moment's notice to pursue life is not really rich at all. His money controls him- not the other way around.

I know it will be difficult- I've heard enough people tell me how hard it will be, how it'll cost more than you think, etc. To them, the traditional way is the safe way, the right way. I understand their viewpoint.

That said, I'm going to do it anyway.

As Americans, one of our chief weaknesses is our short sense of history. We forget that one hundred years ago, the average American house was built by its owner. Some built shacks; others built houses that are still standing today. But they built them. My grandfather converted an old chicken house into a home that shielded multiple children from the rain and served him well most of his life. It did its job well. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

Secondly, there will always be naysayers. It is easier to stand aside and simply say, "It can't be done" than it is to actually try it and risk ridicule. And if the naysayers are loud enough, no one tries, and their prediction becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.

I estimate that it will cost roughly $30,000 to complete the project. Luckily, I currently have a place to live, so I can work on it at my leisure. It's not necessary that I have it ready to move into for a while. So I'll take my time, and hopefully prove all the naysayers wrong.

Eventually, when I finish it, I'll buy another and stick them together, and slowly complete the second half, thereby having a 1600 square foot house. But that's further down the road.

Wish me luck.

Holy Strife

2006-08-14T12:01:00.000-07:00

Yesterdayish I noticed my hits to the blog were spiking unexplainably. Generally Sundays are doldrum days, yet I was over 45 hits by 3:00 in the afternnoon. Which is unbelievably high for such a tiny effort. Most of my viewers are either people I personally know or like-minded souls who stumbled across my site by accident.

After a little bit of research, I found the answer- a blog named Divine Angst had linked to me in an article.

I was, and still am, dumbfounded. Someone read something I wrote and felt the desire to mention it to others? Cannot compute. Must lie down and return to reruns of MacGyver.

Yesterday, MacGyver saved a woman and child, beat up two bad guys, had them arrested, and still managed to save a golden eagle and three golden eagle eggs. For the last stunt, he flew in a hang glider. It was breathtaking.

One last note, because I'm too tired to make another post.

Darts is not a sport. Sorry. It's a game. Anything that's traditionally done while drinking beer is not a sport.

I only say this because ESPN2 was hosting the "World Series of Darts" yesterday. One of the guys (I kid you not) walked down to the dart board to the song "Eye of the Tiger." Even more amazingly, his giant beer gut swayed in time with the music.

Then him and his competitor had a warm-up round. You know, because sometimes throwing a dart can strain a muscle. Can't cramp up during the big game. I almost expected them to start drinking Gatorade about halfway through.

I finally turned it when I realized that one of the competitors had a bad back, and the announcers were amazed that he was able to "play through the pain." Part of me died then and there. I'm no back doctor, but maybe the pain has to do with the fact that he's fifty pounds overweight, and not the fact that he has to stand for ten minutes? But that's just me.

Likewise, poker is a game. Anything that a former Hollywood talent agent or Tennessee accountant can win the world series of is a game. There are professionals who have more talent at said game, but in the end, it comes down to statistics and dumb luck.

If me and the best poker player in the world played 100 hands of poker, I could win so many just by being there. However, I doubt I would fare so well against Michael Jordan one-on-one.

Sorry- long post. Thanks for the link, MacGyver rocks, and sports should make one sweat, or at least lose some weight.

Waterfall

2006-08-13T15:49:00.000-07:00

Today I was bumming around geocaching.com and discovered a geocache near my new place.

(For the uninitiated, Geocaching is an activity where you hide stuff, post the coordinate online, and then people find them with satellite-informed GPS devices. Some of the better devices can be honed in down to a few square feet of where the item is hid. Generally, the items are hidden in neat little out of the way spots, so the actual geocache is just an excuse to go out and do stuff. Fairly clever, no?)

The geocache was near one of the old timber bridges that cross near the Pearl. One of the comments mentioned a waterfall. This excited me to no end, because I had no idea there was a waterfall near the bridge. The combination of irkiness I felt at not knowing something about the area, combined with my curiosity, led me to check the place out.

I arrived at the bridge and quickly found the waterfall right where the creek empties into the Pearl. I had looked at it every time I crossed the bridge, yet never seen it. From the bridge's angle, it looks like a manmade concrete structure. Once you climb down the ravine and actually face the thing, however, one sees this:

(Having trouble getting picture to post- probably due to bandwidth concerns on the site- you can view it at the link below if interested.)

http://img.geocaching.com/cache/log/3b6b6f82-808a-4d14-9faa-68b083be0d56.jpg

It's a huge sandstone ledge, with large chunks of rock that have broken off. I imagine in the past various people have used it as an impromptu shelter- hunters, Native Americans, Civil War soldiers.

After admiring the view, I proceeded to pull out of the creek bed three metal cattle gates for my father-in-law. They had been down there for at least four months, so I didn't feel bad about taking them. Had I waited any longer, they would have been washed to the bottom of the Pearl. The first one went up with no problem. The second two gave me fits, and I had to stop and take frequent breaks. I had to climb up a 65 degree angle or so while balancing the thing or either pulling it from behind. Since it weighed a bit, it wanted to pull me back down the ravine into the flowing creek. It's a wonder I pulled them out, or didn't drown in the process.

That said, I can't wait to go back and figure out just what else I don't know about the area.

Story

2006-08-13T14:36:00.000-07:00

I post this merely for posterity's sake- I wrote this story in 2002, and just recently found a copy of it while moving to my new place. With my luck, it'll be lost again in a few weeks, so I thought I would recreate it here. It's fairly long, but somewhat humorous- feel free to ignore if uninterested. It's primary purpose is archival oriented self-edification.

The Great American Novel

It has been duly noted over the centuries that the Great American Novel has yet to be written. But I, even though admittedly innocent when it comes to literary pursuits, must beg to differ. But considering that the average critic knows nothing of a certain Harry T. Belfunk, it is a charge most understandable.

For, you will see, I have met a man named Belfunk and his work. Now I'll be the first to admit that almost all of his literary efforts were a great waste of time and ink. However, it happened one day that Mr. Belfunk wrote what had to be...

But look at me. I delve immediately into the meat of the story.

One autumn day I was busy arranging my Sunday ties according to size and color. The largest went to the right and the smallest to the left. Anyway, I was so engrossed by my organizing that I didn't hear the sound of Harry's rather large feet slapping the cobblestone road. What I did hear, however, was the knock on the door.

For those who have never heard Belfunk's knock, a bit of explanation is in order. His knocks may not awaken the dead, but I am certain that they rattle the elderly. And since I knew the price of new oak doors (they aren't cheap), I decided against acting as if I wasn't there. So with a smile one usually reserves for the deaf and dumb child, I opened the door.

Harry simply marched in, paced around a few times, and said, "I need capital."

A few more words concerning Harry: he was never one to mince words, seeing anything superfluous as wasteful. Furthermore, it was understood among his friends that he wasn't exactly of the same financial breed as they were, and I always thought that this made him slightly insecure. But for one reason or another, Harry was always busy cooking up get-rich quick schemes.

Of course, I did what any noble man would do- I turned my pockets inside out to show him I was in no danger of sinking in a river, were I to be pushed.

But with a wave of his hand he canceled my offer, stating, "No man, I need real capital. Something to live off of, not pocket change. What I need from you is a plan."

"Sure thing, Harry. But why?"

"I'm in love. And it would..."

"Say no more," I interrupted, "For now I see your plight. You need money to marry the girl, for she says she needs security."

"You couldn't be more wrong, old chap," Harry countered, "You see, I truly think that she is the most wonderful dame in the world. She never asks for anything, and that's what breaks my heart the most. I want to buy her things, put her in a nice house. I have too much pride to ask her hand in marriage before I've earned a living."

At that moment, I could predict me and Harry staying up all night, drinking tea and formulating a suitable plan. But I always love an opportunity to tease him whenever I can, and it would seem this time that Fate wasn't about to allow me to forego my future.

"The answer is simple," I declared, waving my hands emphatically, like a circus announcer. "Just sit down at a desk and write the Great American Novel."

There are seasoned veterans who have found glory on the battlefield who cannot stomach the sight of Harry's mug catching onto an idea. He starts to sweat profusely, his eyes grow to hideous proportions, and saliva escapes freely from his open mouth. In fact, he closely resembles Secretariat coming down the home stretch.

If there were one good thing that could be said about Harry, it would be this- that he always follows through with an idea, once it has caught his eye.

This one had obviously caught his eye. For a moment, I debated whether or not to call the carpet cleaners, so great was the flow of saliva, but I quickly decided Harry was more important. So I said what I thought I had to say.

"Harry, you can't. It's preposterous! Okay, I concede that in a couple of years maybe..."

"I have three weeks," Harry announced quietly and solemnly, his eyes now glazed over, the rusty wheels starting to turn in his head.

And with a glance, I could tell he was no longer paying attention. He was lost. So with a heavy heart, I decided to let Father Time teach him a worthy lesson.

Without even a word of parting, Harry was gone.

Three weeks later, I was organizing my pots and pans according to their respective sizes and uses when I once again heard the booming sound of Belfunk's knock upon my door. As I started to let him in, I could almost picture the look of disappointment on his face. But what I actually saw touched my heart and broke my soul.

Looking back at me was a man changed forever. His eyes were the blackest black, his hair whiter than lightning, and his face heavy with unshaven hair. His clothes were filthy, and in his ink-stained hands he carried a large parchment, which I assumed to be his Great American Novel.

I stood in the doorway for a few minutes, letting this awesome sight sink in. But I quickly came to my senses and ushered him inside. Without a word, he walked over to the fireplace, and tossed the papers into the blazing fire. I was speechless, as was he.

He watched the fire for a few moments, turned to me, and said, "It's finished."

Dying with curiosity, I fixed a pot of coffee and begged him to share his story. He acquiesced and began.

Immediately after leaving your house, I headed straight for my home, intent on writing the story. I gathered up some paper and some quills (everyone knows you must use authentic goose quills if you're attempting to write anything great). And there I sat.

I don't know if you've ever tried to write anything but your name, but let me tell you, it's a lot harder than it looks. After staring at a blank piece of paper for two straight hours, you're not exactly brimming with confidence. I decided I needed something to write about.

And then it hit me- I would write about my love for Sylvia! And with a brush of my hand the ink started to flow. I must have written over thirty pages the first hour alone! What I wrote was pure, and honest. Whereas my predecessors had materialistic motives, I wrote for another. Shakespeare's greatest works are sonnets- sonnets about love for another. And so it was with me.

Love is a liquor that produces varied emotions- some men fear ardor; others practically swoon at the notion. However, love mixed with madness is the greatest catalyst known to man. Money and power, when all is said and done, fall far short.

Yet love is also a fleeting thing, to be sure. So, I had to act fast. I ignored both the telephone and the doorbell, my ears simply refusing to hear that which would halt my writing. For days at a time I went without the company of food, only allowing myself a boiled egg and toast twice a week. And when I didn't write, I slept; but that was from only the greatest physical exhaustion. I contend that only Atlas himself could bear my weight on his shoulders.

But perseverance always pays off. Exactly twenty days after we met, I finished my novel. It was a masterpiece of construction. Every sentence had a meaning, every word a certain nuance. I tell you, man, it had words that would move the hardest heart, entrance a man to move the stars, or even make men forget their lesser gods... I knew this would gain me Sylvia's love, for if it didn't, nothing would.

The instant I put down my quill, I marched over to Bumbleman's printing company, threw open the door to his office, and placed the manuscript before his hands. From somewhere deep within, I heard myself utter a terse phrase.

"Pay me."

Bumbleman is the type of man who could pass a child dying in the street and check his pockets for loose change. His heart was last seen being traded in for gold bouillon on the common market. But then again, you get the idea.

To this day I know not whether it was the wild look of poets in my eye or the fierce consternation of a novelist, but something greater than the both of us forced him to read my tale. You may ask why he didn't throw me out on the spot, casting my papers and me in the gutter. But you must think the whole thing through. Publishers don't get rich without some sort of sixth sense, some sort of gut feeling. He also knew, in his own corrupted way, that passion inscribed on paper equals dollars. Perhaps he learned it from me.

So he read it. And he paid.

After a brief stop at the bank, I set off for Sylvia's. Knocking on the door, I was so excited I almost knocked it off the hinges. Her door slowly opened, inch by excruciating inch. Instead of a hug and a kiss, I received a magnificent slap to the face, and her tears to boot.

I'm sure stars have fallen from heaven and crashed into the hissing sea, but no one could have felt worse than I did right then. After I picked up my heart and dusted it off, I considered joining a circus troupe far, far away. Perhaps the chimpanzees and lions would appreciate my love more...

My thoughts were banished at the sight of Bumbleman's little, bald head popping up over Sylvia's shoulder. He looked surprised- because of me, or the vicious right hook I threw, I don't know. So it ended up with Bumbleman and me wrestling on the veranda, Sylvia all the meanwhile beating me unmercifully with a wicker broom. Wicker brooms hurt. I made a solemn oath that day never to sweep a rug again with rage in my heart.

For the record, my ambition was to make Bumbleman eat dirt and yell "Uncle!" which is quite hard to do at the same time, I would soon realize.

Finally- I'm not quite sure when- we quit wrestling, dead tired on the front walk. For a long period afterward, we were all silent, too busy sucking air. But eventually, I had to speak.

"Why, Sylvia, why?"

"Why?! I'll tell you why! For three weeks, you don't call, don't visit! You don't even answer your door, even when I begged and cried. And worse yet, I knew you were in there. I could hear you munching on your toast, with more than moderate delectation."

"But Sylvia..." I tried to stand, my legs threatening to buckle at any moment.

"Whack!"

The wicker broom bade me sit back down, and I obeyed before I knew it.

Meanwhile, Bumbleman had finally removed most of the dirt from his mouth, and he opened it as if he wanted to speak, but no words would come.

I also tried to speak, but Sylvia, who was now on the verge of tears, wouldn't hear of it.

"Go, Mr. Harry T. Belfunk. I shan't have anything else to do with you. There is no reason for your absence. Mr. Bumbleman has shared the whole story, and the idea makes me nauseous to a frightening degree. If it is truly love you seek, Mr. Belfunk, I suggest you stain the pages of your novel with the moisture of your lips. In any event, you will find your novel more receptive of your attention."

I knew then all was lost. Bumbleman would get the girl, Sylvia would get the love, and I would get paper cuts in cumbersome places.

Resigning myself to my fate, I stood up, dusted myself off, and walked out away. I shed no tears, spurted no words of bitter remorse (though my poetic should was tempted), but simply strode away, with all the dignity a broken heart can hold.

I did, however, suffer myself one glance back. I saw Sylvia, blessed Sylvia, helping up Mr. Bumbleman. I also saw love. I think it was then my hair turned white. A meager recorder of fervid dreams was never supposed to be a witness to true love. The only thing that spared my life from such an awesome sight was the intense burning in my heart.

So I walked to Bumbleman's company. I gave back all the money owed, and his secretary gave me back my manuscript. Mr. Bumbleman is a gentleman, I'll grant him that- he knew how to win gracefully. My next stop was here. And so you now know the story...

At that point, the exhausted Belfunk lapsed into a deep sleep. I watched the light from the fireplace turn cartwheels upon his sunken face. What price had love paid to buy a man's work of art? I slowly shook my head, letting it all sink in. And then I smiled. I suppose it is fitting that his sacrifice should warm him, at least for a while.

My curiosity assuaged, I let him snooze, for there are only two temporary cures for a broken heart- unconsciousness and love. The man who can drink while he sleeps never regrets falling in love.

Things that Have Fallen Off My Car

2006-08-11T11:19:00.000-07:00

1. Window Handle
2. Sun Visor
3. Parking Light
4. One Tire (pulled off after going flat)
5. Gas Door
6. Alternator (pulled off after going bad)

So far, I've only replaced numbers #4 and #6, since they actually make the car go. I'm tinkering with the idea of stripping my car down to just a "dune buggy" type device, to make it as light as possible. I've have to check with the local laws. However, if motorcycles are legal, I don't think I'd need doors and such. Probably just seatbelts. I could also take out the whole trunk.

Just a thought.

Gas Math

2006-08-10T15:00:00.000-07:00

My car holds approximately 15.9 gallons, if my manual is to be believed.

Right now, gas costs about $3.02 where I live, I reckon.

If my car was bone dry, it would cost roughly $48 to fill up.

I bought it for $600.

That's 8 percent of the value of my car.

Since I fill up basically once a week, that means I've paid for my car in gas in about 12.5 weeks.

In a year's time, that's $2600- which is over four times the value of my car.

I understand the fact that I'm driving a cheap rustbucket, but it seems to me that the fuel should be less expensive than the actual vehicle. And I definitely shouldn't be spending almost 10 percent of my car's value everytime I fill up. It's absurd.

Those who buy $20,000 vehicles should actually factor in the $10,000 or more cost of actually fueling the thing for five years.

I hope the car companies wise up and either build electric cars that actually accelerate, or small one-passenger automobiles that zip around and sip gas. There's got to be a better answer.

I leave you for the night with a quote my English teacher told me, and one I'll never forget: "If we all still rode horses, everything would be a lot closer together."

Late Night Missive

2006-08-10T09:19:00.000-07:00

Found out by e-mail that I didn't make Law Review.

I won't say much more about it, because it would just seem like sour grapes.

Congratulations to everyone who made it.

Whores of Blogalon and Loose Ends

2006-08-09T20:37:00.000-07:00

This post wil be directed to (for lack of a better term) blogger whores.

These are the people who beg and plead and for links or viewers or comments. Generally, these are also the same people who consistently blog about nothing.

"Please world read about how many socks I own," they post, never realizing that the average human is in no way concerned about the status of their fashioned feet.

The people, bedazzled by celebrity, feel the ever-growing need to force a sprint out of a lame horse. It's amusing to watch at first, but quickly the delicate heart turns to disgust.

Here's my official position, as far as this blog is concerned.

1) I'll link to your sight if I'm impressed by the writing and/or viewpoints. That's the criteria. No where in said criteria is the number of times a person has asked me. I have no interest in increasing my own largesse, much less anyone else's. By the same token, link to me if you feel you want to. But please, leave the third-grade inspired link exchange idea in the schoolhouse where it was born- I can almost see the tattered note that says "Link Exchange? Circle Yes or No."

I just threw up a little in my mouth.

2) As far as viewers go, I'd be perfectly happy if it never increased. I feel I have an intelligent audience, and feel no need nor desire to dumb it down by inviting in mass quantities the unwashed populace. Those that want to read my blog will find it just fine on their own. People find what they want, if given enough time. Just ask any crack dealer. I doubt they're listed on Google, but people find them. And they don't really advertise, I'd imagine. Conversely, those who always advertise (look how awesome my blog is!) usually neglect to mention that the advertisement is more spectacular than the product. They are the used car salesmen of the blogosphere.

I can clearly taste the bile.

3) Comments are grand, and I'm always excited when I click the link and read one. To be honest, I'd rather have five people visit and comment everyday than one hundred visit and no one comment. That said, I don't cry if there's no comments. I don't wander around, trying to figure out how to get them. Instead, I work and eat and sleep and breathe, and occasionally I'll post on the blog. So comment if you like, whether you agree with me or not. I'm perfectly capable of comprehending the fact that intelligent people can hold opposing viewpoints, I promise. In the same vein, I don't regularly post on other people's blogs, so I understand when I go commentless. Zero happens. Suck it up and move on.

Purge complete- rant over.

That said, here's a few things I wanted to post about but didn't have the time.

A. Went to the Delta with my boss and had a great time at trial.
B. Landis is a cheater- I'd bet the farm on it. Synthetic testosterone? Come on.
C. MythBusters is a great show, and I fear I'm addicted to it.

Smudge

2006-08-08T20:37:00.000-07:00

Today my cat Smudge, a dark grey tabby with a raccoon tail, was killed by a few of my dogs.

We'd let them out of the fence for a few minutes while we were feeding them, as usual. It's a fairly large fence (3000 square feet or so) but we still like to let them run on occasion.

Moments later, my wife heard a commotion and found her laying prone on the ground, with a nasty cut on her side.

We rushed her to the emergency vet, but they had broken her back, so she had to be put down. We buried her in the corner, beneath a hickory tree. The dirt was hard with the lack of rain, but it was no match for my desire to give her a burial.

The thing is, I never saw this coming. It's not so much the actual death (anyone who has pets, especially as many as we do, learns to deal with this part of it) but instead how she died that disturbs me.

The dogs that killed her are the same dogs that spent years with her, sitting side by side in the same house. They knew her, and had never made a move to harm her, or any cat we own. I don't know what triggered them.

They're just mutts, as well- strays we picked up off the road- not Pit Bulls or Rottweilers or any other breed that (although this is certainly debatable) might be bent towards aggression. It just doesn't make sense.

My only theory is that they thought they were toying with her, and accidentally broke her back. But I just don't know. Or perhaps it was a fleeting mob mentality that took over, if only for a second.

What I do know is that my wife just recently cried herself to sleep, and there's a fresh grave around back with the heaviest log I could carry sitting on top. Also, the dogs will never be allowed access to the cats again. They've lost that chance forever.

When I get the time, I'm going to make a small headstone, I think. She deserves something. I think I'll write this:

Here lies a good cat.

$1.52 Gasoline

2006-08-04T10:40:00.000-07:00

That's how much the old station on the corner is selling gas for. Of course, it's got old pumps, and the manufacturer of said pumps never foresaw gas at $3.00 a gallon, so you can't set 'em that high.

As a result, it's set for $1.52, with a big sign on the pump that says "Price per half-gallon."

Rural Observations

2006-08-03T18:10:00.000-07:00

A stop sign, bent and rusted from shotgun blasts
Stands guard at a corner littered with cigarette butts
That point to a manicured yard of closely-cropped blades
And an empty porch full of mysterious dreams.

There's the drug store there, white brick on a corner
Just across from the courthouse lawn
Which sits next to city hall
Beside the water tower that serves as the square.

They're chopping it up- the square, that is-
Intent on making their great past greater
New bricks will capture the past better than
the old, they think- Or at least better capture
what the past is in the minds of those coming
To see it, and toss a few coins.

There's a local restaurant there beneath
The tower's shadow; serving up country fare
To those willing to eat it.
Been there for a while- saw a success where
Others saw derelict structures beyond saving.
Now that their Solomon wisdom has borne
itself out, the Pharisees wish to take part-
Yet, as Pharisees, they must take the truth
And pull it into a taffy that cannot bear the
Weight of its own nature- thus they destroy
That which made the idea visionary to begin with.

The rent will go so high, that the old restaurant
will close, move on, never serve the town again.
But there will be more shops, more restaurants,
More things, I'm told, and we won't remember
That little ol' thing.

Small towns are like unicorns- unique and skittish.
Since we are so different, so bold and so brash,
Their relative innocence excites us and leads us
to soil their beliefs until they resemble us.
We cannot leave well enough alone.

There is a fine line here, and I can't see it,
But I know well enough when we've fallen off.
We'd be best advised to grope for the pier
Instead of wading out into the listless sea.

Twist

2006-08-03T11:24:00.000-07:00

I'm tired of how people twist and corrupt what other people say. In my opinion, that's ten times worse than merely ignoring an individual.

We read into other's statements that which we want to hear, as opposed to what they're actually saying.

Just recently, a client was advised by the attorney to do something. I was there. I heard it. I'm not crazy.

Today, the client wanders in and says to the secretary, "Hey, I need to know this so I can do this so the attorney can do this for me- that's what he said to do."

The attorney said no such thing. He told the client to do it. But the guy hears what he wants.

It's almost as if everything he hears is instantly converted to the most advantageous statement possible, as far as he's concerned.

Me: Hey, you're house is on fire.

Crazy Person: Why thanks for offering to put it out and pay for the damages! You're a great friend!

Is this a mental illness? Have we become so adept at not hearing other people that we've simply replaced their statements with replies of our own? Is conversation nothing more than a parlor trick, when in fact we're actually just talking to ourselves? Is discourse nothing more than simply giving ourselves a chance to hear our own voice?

Beginnings

2006-08-03T10:57:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I headed out to a burgeoning Military Park on my way home from work and did a little exploring. It's not much, yet- just a few cannons and a one-mile trail that loops around the whole thing- but it's nice.

I was mostly interested in the trail, and the fact that half of the trail is really the "old" Highway 18. A concrete bridge crosses a small creek, probably a bridge that's over one hundred years old. I've always loved old abandoned roads and bridges, for unknown reasons. I suppose it's the sense of history, the semblance of decay, the untold stories buried in the past.

Also, they're just neat. It's interesting to see how things fall apart over time.

The Park is quite pertinent, as it's on the site of a battle that served as the precursor to the Siege of Vicksburg, which is one of the turning points of the Civil War. Part of the trail runs next to Fourteenmile Creek, the place of the heaviest fighting. It was easy to imagine the old Blue and Grey traipsing across that field under a hail of artillery and gunfire.

The other side of the loop was made from an old railroad line, and as a result the path was straight and narrow, cutting a shadowed tunnel through the dense woods. Two wooden bridges were at either end, newly fashioned ones that traversed Fourteenmile Creek and another, smaller tributary.

Even though it was sweltering and I was still wearing jeans from work (my job is pretty casual) I jogged about a mile. Simply because I hadn't done it in a while. It sucked, but I enjoyed it. It felt good to force the body to do something.

I would like to register for a 5K sometime in the near future, for maybe February or March. I need a tangible goal to focus on, if I'm to keep this thing up.

The Day Before Extraordinary

2006-08-01T18:39:00.000-07:00

I wonder when the difference between my goals and reality will coalesce into a perfect harmony.

They're not magnificent goals, by any stretch- start running regularly, eating healthy, and writing for a while everyday- but my actions never bear them out.

I've watched TV for over two hours today, and now I'm hunkered down in front of the computer, writing these words. Continuously attached to a technological tether, it appears.

I think I'll like being a lawyer- it's interesting, and all- but it's not, in a perfect world, what I would want to do with the rest of my life. A tragedy, to be sure, but not a unique one. I doubt 90% of the population ever really does what they truly want to do. Lives of quiet desperation, and all that. At some point in life the door opens and the light of reality sends our childhood dreams scuttling away into the back recesses of our minds.

There's a part of me that wants to do nothing more than write, yet I never pick up the pen and sit in silence for hours honing my craft. There's a part that wants to paint, yet I rarely dabble in that field anymore. There's a part that wants to build Adirondack chairs, but the idea's been stillborn in my head for months. The desire is there, no doubt- but it's either not strong enough to change the growing tide or being outweighed by another force, one that's had the benefit of running deep grooves in the landscape of my being.

I often wonder if I'll ever snap out of this mode of existence and actually pursue my dreams. And then I wonder what the day before that day would be like- would it be just another day, or one that pushed me to try something new?

The change itself wouldn't even be that dramatic- I'd still go to law school and work as a clerk, etc. However, I would be a writer who is attending law school. The attitude and outlook would change, not the actual behavior.

In truth, we've fooled ourselves. We've created lifestyles that we can only afford by (for the large part) taking high-paying jobs we really don't want. We seem to forget the other option- living simply and actually doing what the hell we want with the rest of our lives. The poor man who can fish at 2:00 in the afternoon seems to have a better schedule than I do. I have money, but so what? Does that buy me time to fish? Hardly. It only makes me tired, and pushes me to the bed that much earlier.

We've become slaves who lounge on leather sofas and eat the finest grapes, and forgotten our ancestors who slept on the ground, yet directed their fates like kings.

I miss the ground.

I wonder when that sentiment will take form and shape in my life- and what the day before it will be like.

One-Sided

2006-07-31T14:56:00.000-07:00

I'm sick and tired of hearing how the Israelis are killing civilians with bombs.

Israel was attacked by Hezbollah, with Hezbollah fighters crossing the border and kidnapping two Israeli soldiers.

Israel wants their soldiers back, apparently. As a result, they're blowing the hell out of southern Lebanon.

Which brings me to another point- the land Israel is attacking isn't truly Lebanon, no more so than Texas was a part of Mexico when we annexxed it in the 1840's. For lack of a better word, I call it "Hezbollah-Land." They run the show down there, and the Lebanese government has little influence on that part of the country. If you have enough of a presence to keep out the country's military, you get to rule yourself. That's commonsense. In other words, Hezbollah-land is it's own de facto country, and all the line-drawing in the sand won't change that. So it's not really Israel v. Lebanon, it's Israel v. Hezbollah-land.

Sorry, I wandered a bit there.

Anyway, Israel is killing civilians. Guess what- Hezbollah fighters are strategically placed amongst civilians. Why, you ask? To protect themselves. So Israel has two choices- let Hezbollah continue shooting missiles at their civilians, or target the ones shooting the missiles. Who just happen to be in the midst of civilians.

Kill or be killed is one of the most primitive instincts we have.

My history teacher once posed a question to those who were anti-war. He said imagine a neighboring country is attacking you. Other than fight back, what do you do? Let them kill your women and children, burn your crops? Roll over and wait to die? Or launch airstrike after airstrike, damning the consequences, until the threat has been removed and your people are safe to live again and walk outside and play.

Israel made their choice- and I can't say that I blame them.

Cousin-Love

2006-07-31T07:32:00.000-07:00

That's the name of a street I pass by on my way to Jackson. No, I'm not making it up.

Why on Earth would someone name a street that? I understand that it's probably named after some guy whose last name was Love, and he was someone's cousin. But it still doesn't make sense.

Wouldn't that kind of name hurt your property values? I'm guessing listing "Cousin-Love" on your application for housing slashes the price by ten percent automatically.

It's not like they've run out of names, either. Most of the other streets have beautiful names, and this one sticks out like a sore thumb.

It's just odd.

Anyone else out there got any weird street names to share?

I Think I've Created A Monster (Or At Least I Hope So)

2006-07-28T19:49:00.000-07:00

I've created a blog that with any luck, will change the face of the Internet forever.

Just kidding. However, I am hoping it turns out to be an interesting idea.

It's a community blog, in the sense that anyone can post what they want.

I've always thought that the biggest weakness of a blog is that it only shares one singular viewpoint. As a result, people have to visit several blogs to get a rounded view of a particular situation.

Also, people tend to only visit blogs that reinforce what they think- hopefully this experiment will challenge people to visit ideas they normally wouldn't consider.

The website is www.everyman-blog.blogspot.com.

The username is Yorick2006.
The password is Everyman.

Change it however you wish- however, I ask that you don't change the password, for obvious reasons. If you really want to only hear your own opinions, get your own blog. This one, in theory, belongs to everyone.

Where Did Summer Go?

2006-07-28T09:39:00.000-07:00

Classes start back at school on Monday, August the 21st.

What?

Have two months disappeared that quickly. It seems like just a blink ago I was studying for finals. Now I hear I've got class in roughly three weeks?

(Insert heart-wrenching sound of anguish here.)

From what I gather, the first semester of your second year is supposed to be the toughest. Apparently, they manage to stuff a full year's worth of knowledge in your brain in only a semester's time. That's the idea, at least.

To be honest, though, we 1Ls at our school had it fairly easy. I know it wasn't a cakewalk, by any means, but it could have been more difficult. Most of the professors seemed to dwell on topics they could have sped past without a second thought. I don't know if that's a testament to their teaching ability or a sign of the law school's weakness, but there it is. As it stands, I think the most I ever had to read (i.e., was assigned to read) was roughly 30 pages- not exactly a Herculean task by any stretch, particularly when you were given two days to do it.

However, since it is harder, I took a safety and only registered for 15 hours. I'm sure others opted for 17 hours, but I'm not that brave. (In my defense, there's an outside chance I'll be picked up for Law Review, which would bring the total to 16.) But I'd rather do well with a small courseload than be overwhelmed by a large one.

When it comes to my degree, I'm not in any big hurry. I'll skip summer classes, take the required courses, and graduate in the Spring of 2008.

But I still wish summer wouldn't fly by so fast.

Perfect Drive

2006-07-25T10:20:00.000-07:00

What a difference an address makes.

Before, I found myself hurtling down Interstate 55 at breakneck speeds for too many miles to count on my way to school- even longer when headed to work. I was lucky if I could make the trip in forty-five minutes.

Now, however, I find myself cruising through twisting country roads in a pleasant 20-minute drive through outstanding scenery.

Starting out from home, I wind my way down toward the Pearl River. As a result, I see images that remind me (as ridiculous as this sounds) of Virginia. Mississippi is generally a very flat place, but here, as the ground gives way to a river channel, everything heaves and sighs in the face of irretractable power. As a result, there are impressive ridges and vistas everywhere.

My trek truly begins, however, by going over two old one-lane wooden pony truss bridges. One crosses over the Pearl River, a nice sized river flowing through the middle of (and partly the reason for its present location) the capital of Jackson. However, at twenty miles below the city, all is peace and quiet as my old Camry ramps up the bridge and rattles over the wooden running boards that serve as support. One almost expects to see them filming an episode of Little House on the Prairie.

The next bridge is smaller, as it crosses a tributary of the Pearl. The view is still impressive, however. Being more diminutive, this bridge actually goes straight across, like modern bridges. The larger bridge's span resembles the top three sides of a stop sign, only slightly less exaggerated. (For the curious, you can see a picture of the actual bridge here- it's the sixth picture down.)

From there, I roll into a small town and pass through an old railroad bridge tunnel before crossing over the Interstate- my sole brush with civilization on my daily sojourn. I quickly retreat back into the wilderness, passing down ten miles of random country roads until reaching my destination at a small country town.

Never once do I see a stop light- only the occasional stop sign. It's surprising if I encounter more than ten cars during the entire trip, and most of those are near the small city I pass through. It truly is a perfect drive.

Whew!

2006-07-24T12:35:00.000-07:00

My boss had been preparing for a HUGE federal case this last week, which was scheduled to begin this week.

He was the local attorney on the case- if you're not licensed to practice in a certain state (and you have the financial resources to keep the case) you hire a local guy to come in a be a legal ombudsman, so to speak. Then you attach yourself to his certification and everything is kosher. At least, that's how I think it works.

On Wednesday we receive some federal subpoenas through the fax machine that he wanted me to serve. That the guys in Big Firm wanted delivered before the trial on Monday- as a result, I run all over town on Thursday morning handing subpoenas to various people. (On the upside, I was reimbursed $25 for each subpoena I served, so that was good.)

However, we forgot to attach checks to the subpoenas, so the other side raised a motion to quash them on Friday afternoon. So, in a frantic frenzy, we remade the subpoenas and I was given the horrible task of trying to find medical experts on the weekend, with no home addresses to go on. A google search barely helped, and I was largely unsuccessful in my quest.

Ergo, I walk into work today thinking that I completely screwed everything up, and our side is going to lose a LARGE amount of money due to my lack of subpoena-serving abilities. Large, as in I'm-pretty-I-couldn't-have-paid-it-back-in-my-lifetime large. That kind of money.

However, the trial was settled today and everything turned out alright after all. But it was certainly a harrowing experience.

Anniversary

2006-07-20T10:18:00.000-07:00

Today is the date I celebrate four wonderful years of marriage to my beloved wife.

For some reason or another, we've always had bad scheduling luck on our anniversary- something always came up that forced us to postpone the celebration. This year is no different, as the combination of the move and her GRE test make for little time.

Even our honeymoon was cut short, due to the fact that we had to begin pre-planning as teachers.

However, this Sunday we hope to go to the Neshoba County Fair, as that's the place I took her on one of our first "official" dates, roughly seven years ago.

Here's hoping our lives can cease just enough to let us live, if only for a moment.

Boy Walks Outside, Climbs Tree

2006-07-17T13:12:00.000-07:00

Rochester, New York-- In a story that practically defies belief, photojournalist Bob Winderstump has produced for authentication what he believes to be the first tree climber ever captured on film, perhaps the first one in the country.

After confirmation by Kodak photo specialists, the hunt was on.

"We knew we had something special," said an unnamed source. "How often do you hear of a boy in a tree?"

Both National Geographic and 60 Minutes, among others, have sent out crews and discovered the identity of the unabashed Emersonian tyke, now identified as Josh Winthrop, a 7-year old boy from a small suburb just outside the Rochester area. Upon learning of the news, his mother fainted. Josh, however, glady told his tale.

"Well, Mom's Lexus was in the shop, so I was forced to ride the bus, right? Well, to make matters worse, the batteries on my iPod were running down. There' just no way that Don't Fear the Reaper is supposed to get a man that kinda down, know what I mean? Anyway, the thing cuts off during a sweet acoustic version of Stairway to Heaven and I'm left standing next to the street with six minutes to kill before the bus arrives."

"Six minutes- how'd you do it?"

"It was tough, real tough. I almost headed back in when I saw this thing out of the corner of my eye. A tree, they call it. I'd seen one, of course, but I'd never touched one."

"And why is that?"

"What good reason do I have to touch it? It doesn't light up, sent text messages, or fill the void in my soul."

"So why did you climb the tree?"

"Well, I was standing there, and I saw a branch sticking out. Almost as if it was instinct, my hand reached up and closed around it. Before I knew it, I was halfway up the thing. All the worries of life just melted away. I was able to be a kid again, damnit! That said, it really isn't that big of a deal."

Of course, the townspeople saw things differently. Within a few minutes a sizable crowd had gathered, and were staring in awe at the boy in the tree. At times, his feet were as high as five feet off the ground.

"My grandfather had told us that people did that, but I never believed it," said Martha Kurr, an amateur geneaologist. "I guess I could have been wrong. It's still hard to believe, however- next they're going to try and convince me that people once lived without the Internet!"

The city is planning to memorialize the event by placing a bronzed statue of the child in the tree- and toy makers like Hasbro and Mattel are releasing toy trees later this month.

As for the would-be Edmund Hillary, well, he's got other plans.

"I'm thinking of building a small platform up there, where I could hang out and stuff. Any maybe include a rope ladder or something. I do know one thing- I'm gonna need some pretty decent Wi-Fi in order to get online gaming going down from the middle of a tree. I'm all about some Everquest."

Century Mark

2006-07-17T09:08:00.000-07:00

Worked over the weekend finishing the fence. It was 99 degrees on Saturday and 100 degrees on Sunday here- not the best times to work outdoors. But, with the calendar being what it is (we have to be out of our old place by the end of the month), we can't afford to sit by and idly curse the weather.

It's all slowly coming together, however, and we hope to be moved soon.

Until then, I'll only be able to manage a frantically-inspired and hectic schedule of blogging.

Stay tuned.

Highway Shoulders Underfunded, Underappreciated

2006-07-13T06:56:00.000-07:00

It's been called a silent epidemic. Each year, millions of motorists pass by them, unaware of their importance. Yet, time and time again, they are there when wee need them most- to change a tire, or make an illegal U-turn.

Tragically, however, the government Highway Shoulder Rejuvenation program has been obsolete since 1998, when Bill Clinton drastically reduced funding. As a result, our nation's extensive system of highway shoulders is beginning to fall apart.

"We just need more money," says local road repairman Jake Alters. "This dirt and gravel won't take care of itself. Sometime in the next two hundred years, there's going to be a problem."

Highlighted by the recent collection of photos Almost Bearing the Heavy Load, Congress is considering legislation to save our nation's shoulders. The most famous photo shows a single black-eyed Susie among a patch of clover. It begs the question of what horrors could occur if a wary motorist happened to collide with it at highway speed.

"Surely the carnage would be unimaginable to the vehicle," said renowned crash expert Sven Drigglesome. "We need some money to clear these shoulders. In places, the grass is over seven inches high. Seven." Asked about the cost, Sven said, "I imagine it could be accomplished with about three hundred dollars."

Congressman Jack Albert (South Dakota- R) takes a more practical approach.

"Without shoulders, what's the head to rest on? Come on America, help me support our heads. We don't want to be the guy at the party whose head lolls around, do we? Do we?"

Hopefully, help is on the way. Until then, however, shoulders will be forced to just sit there and do nothing.

Toyota Sequoia Fined for Excessive Vowel Usage

2006-07-12T19:13:00.000-07:00

The National Highway and Transportation Board has recently approved a $10 million fine against Toyota Motors, Inc. It is the largest fine levied against a major automotive maker since the Board was authorized to do so under the Conspicuous Consumption Act of 1974.

Announcing the fine at an afternoon press conference, a spokesperson for the Board said, "Numerous complaints from rival automakers and drivers on the road brought to our attention the fact that Toyota had used all five vowels in the word "Sequoia," currently the name of one of their most popular SUVs. This action will not be tolerated. For too long vowels have been wasted by these industrialist juggernauts- let today be the day this waste stops."

Shares of "U" plummeted at the news at the New York Stock Exchange, as savvy traders guessed it would be the vowel to lose out.

"Everyone knows the vowel "U" sucks," said one trader, "No way is Toyota going to cut any of the big boys. Hell, the vowels "O" and "A" are in their name, aren't they?"

Toyota responded with aggressiveness to the charges: "Our attorneys have conferred on this matter and vowed to fight this ruling. The law is ambiguous at best on this point, and we feel we have a strong case. As a show of good faith, however, we have stopped test development on the new Toyota HAAZZLLLEEEBOOOKEEIIVUUUS- even we know our limits. Thank you."

Citizens around the country are united, but for various reasons.

"I's got nothing against Toyota," said a local mechanic from Whethersville, North Carolina. "I can accept the fact that they waste more oil than a retreatin' Iraqi during Desert Storm. That's our God-given American right to waste oil, and if a foreign corporation with factories in America want to get in on it, God bless 'em. I can even take the little spoiler on the back, even though I reckon it don't serve no purpose. But the sheer hubris of using all five vowels," he says, spitting out a wad of tobacco on the ground, "is simply beyond comprehension. And I have it on good authority that "Y" can be a vowel, too. Why should they get to use so many?"

Statistics bear out the mechanic's ominous warning. Data released just yesterday by the Census Bureau shows a dangerous explosion of vowel usage.

Others take a different approach.

Pat Sajak, host of the ever-popular Wheel of Fortune, said in a press release, "It's common knowledge that one must buy vowels in a free society. Toyota uses more than enough- I think $10 million is a good start to the price tag they've run up. If you ask me, the category is Things that are Evil."

In related stories, others are worried that the potential vowel excessiveness will overshadow the consonant genocide occurring in Ohio.

"Damn," said one man, who asked to remain unidentified, "They only got one left."

Interesting, to Say the Least

2006-07-11T20:36:00.000-07:00

Today, just before Bobby Glenn Wilcher walked into the execution chamber, the Supreme Court granted a surprise delay of execution order. In other words, everything stopped. Instantly.

Here are, as far as I can tell, the facts. Bobby Glenn Wilcher was convicted of murder over two decades ago- he apparently stabbed both women over twenty times and left them for dead on a dirt road. Even more surprising, he confessed to the crimes at trial.

The Mississippi Supreme Court refused the grant a stay, the Federal District Judge (whom I saw today in person) refused to grant a stay, the Court of Appeals refused to grant a stay, and the governor refused to offer clemency. Last chance- the Supreme Court of the United States.

It is extremely rare for the Supreme Court of the United States to intervene in this type of matter. Curiously enough, since Wilcher admitted to the murders, there is really no evidientary issue to dispute. Thus, their reason for granting the stay could only be for one reason, right?

They're considering ruling that capital punishment is cruel and unusual, and thus unconstitutional. That's the only logical conclusion, right? That makes sense? I'm not crazy, am I? Is there something I'm missing? (Notice the use of questions to show utter confusion on my part.)

Chief Justice Roberts, Justice Alito and Justice Scalia voted to continue with the execution. Which means six didn't. Hmmm....

I smell the distinct possibility of the court writing an opinion that will leave the makers of Constitutional Law textbooks scrambling to reprint before early August. Just a hunch, however- I could be wrong. In fact, I usually am.

But I just can't see six justices deciding to stay the execution of what is clearly a guilty man for any other reason. Nor can I see them toying with his life, like a bored cat.

(Notice how I avoided permeating this post with my personal opinion- I just really want to get across what a possibly historic moment this might be. In the same way that Roe v. Wade was, regardless of how one felt about abortion personally.)

Fed Court

2006-07-11T12:20:00.000-07:00

Headed to federal court for the first time in about thirty minutes...

I've been to (counting on fingers) six different state and county courts, but never a federal court.

I hope it's as imposing as I imagine it to be.

Work Product

2006-07-10T12:10:00.000-07:00

Today I just put the finishing touches on four complaints. For the non-legal reader, a complaint is a request for a court to grant you relief. Here's an example:

1. My name is Bob.
2. The other guy's name is Jethro.
2. Jurisdiction (power of court to hear claim) is proper.
3. Venue (place of court to hear claim) is proper.
4. Jethro maliciously stole my prize heifer.
5. Such harm is irreparable.
6. Premises considered, I ask for $2000 or whatever relief the court deems just and equitable.

Oddly enough, one could type that up and file it, and it just might fly in federal court, once the complaint is served with the summons. All that's basically required is notice.

Of course, the four I worked on were a bit longer- running on average 4-5 pages each. That's because one of the points of a complaint is to get the other guy to think long and hard about possibly settling the case. That's also where exhibits come in- you want the other guy to know what you have (because he'd see it anyway in discovery- the part where you basically swap stuff) so he can see what he's dealing with. If you truly have a good case, it'll be obvious.

One of them had six different exhibits to attach.

Another invoked Section 1331 of the United States Code- federal question jurisdiction. It'll be filed soon, after I print out the summons. It's funny- you hear about Section 1331 all the time in Civil Procedure class- now I'm actually invoking it. Big difference, there.

I've learned that the system weeds out most frivolous claims before they're even filed- good lawyers tend to act like mini-judges; that is, they don't file claims that don't appear to have a very good chance of winning. It's just a giant waste of time.

(My boss/lawyer calls me the "Small Claims Division," but right now I'm getting ready to file a complaint for enough money to easily meet the amount-in-controversy requirement of federal court. My law school peers will know what that means.)

Now, onto Requests for Admissions and Counterclaims...

Terry Mercantile Company

2006-07-09T19:14:00.000-07:00

This Saturday my Dad, father-in-law and I built a fence. To be more specific, half a fence. But the hard part- digging eight holes and setting the posts in concrete- is over. Next week I'll buy some wire mesh and hopefully, I'll have a fence for my dogs.

We underestimated the amount of concrete we would need by a few bags, so I had to run to the Terry Mercantile Company halfway through the job in order to finish.

I had never been in the actual store, but I had passed it several times. Terry is a tiny town, but this store takes up what could be the best piece of real estate in the area- in other words, to pass through the town is to go past this store.

I pulled in next to the concrete ($2.98 for a 60-pound bag) and walked in.

I might as well have walked into a different century.

I was in a general store- not a Wal-mart, not a Kroger, not a Walgreens. A real, God's-honest-truth general store. Feed and seed. Preserves and jellies on a shelf against the wall. Fishing poles near the counter. At any moment I expected Andy Griffith to walk in and start whistling before singing "Amazing Grace."

The floors were wood- real wood. As in when they built the place they went and cut down some trees, milled them, and selected the inner pieces (the heart, so to speak) for the floor. They shone like honeyed blood. The ceiling appeared quite tall- maybe fifteen feet. The place felt old and timeless, all at the same time. (I attempted in vain to find a picture online of the place- there are none, according to Google Image Search. I fear that any attempt to take a picture of the place that isn't in sepia tone will result in instant death. Must investigate.)

"How may I help you?" a man asked behind the counter.

Baffled at the personal service, my circuits momentarily backfired. Human connection the instant one walks into a store? I cannot compute.

I regain my composure and I tell him I need five bags of concrete. From out of nowhere another man appears and says, "Five bags? Are you parked near the concrete?"

I nod, at this point sure I'm in a strange dream, and the man is gone before I finish.

Another man appears, this one looking at the fishing poles. He seems way too happy. He asks where "just the poles" are, and I realize my head is about to explode. Here I am blogging away about how Emerson's philosophy has been cast aside, and this man just ten feet away is living it. Away with the reels and bait, he seems to say. Just a cane pole, a string, and a hook and I'll be fine.

I look up and the man behind the counter (I assume from his countenance that he owns the place) is writing up a receipt. Let me repeat that- writing up a receipt. Computers? Hogwash! Why do with machine what can just as easily be done by pen? He didn't say that, but I wouldn't have been surprised to have heard it come out of his mouth.

I ask him when this building was built, and he pauses from his arithmetic briefly and cocks his head in thought. "Oh," he says, and pauses for dramatic emphasis, "Around the 1890s, I believe." He says it with a mystical tone that hints that somehow, he was around to build it. The mercantile owner, the man who never grows old and watches the town go by around him.

For a moment, I believed that iPods and laptops and the Internet and power windows and gasoline engines and electricity had melted away. I am fully convinced that if a guy had walked in with an MP3 player, either he or the building would have promptly vanished, never to be seen again. I wouldn't bet against that store.

I gave him a twenty and received my change just as the other man reappeared. I thanked him, still in a daze.

And then I left- walked out the doors, climbed in the truck, and headed back out into the cruel, linoleum covered world with low ceilings and store owners who could care less, as long as you hand over your money.

Capital Game #2

2006-07-07T21:32:00.000-07:00

For those new to the site, here's how the game is played:

Hidden in the passage below are the names of state capitals- I haven't decided on how many yet.

The capitals can be separated by spaces or punctuation marks but not letters that would distort the spelling of the word.

Example: "Jack's on drugs."

Answer: Jackson- Mississippi

(I couldn't have put "Jack is on drugs" because "Jackison" is not a state capital.

Have fun, and you can look at the list here if you need some help.

Jack checked the silencer on his Beretta and hid amongst the shadows. The gentle waves of the ocean slapped against the shore in a comforting rhythmn. Jack barely heard it. His eyes were trained on a silhouette against the last pier, resplendently outlined against the rising yet waning moon.

The target.

He had been told the man would be here, but he hadn't known if his source was to be trusted. That damn Santiago will never let me live this down. Still, he kept his guard up- he had been tricked one too many times. Once he had been saved by the slimmest shard of providence- an itch on his shoulder had caused a bullet to graze harmlessly by. As a result, he was loathe to take chances, and worked with the methodical calculation of a madman.

Within him, the old killing fires began to burn. The swirling haze of his subconscious formed a nascent plan. Singe. That's a better word. Yes- singe, that carries a better connotation. He almost smiled to himself- a quiet reflection of the fact that he was debating diction immediately before shooting a man. I'm not quite right, am I? The killer smiled again.

The air was cool and surprisingly pleasant. A few more seconds- let the moon rise a bit more before making your move. Patience is a virtue. He failed to heed his own advice, and silently crept closer and closer to his intended prey.

Twenty feet away, and he raised his gun to fire. Suddenly the figure spoke.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The assassin waited out of idle curiosity, his finger still pressed softly against the trigger.

"I came here to die. They've done away with me. And I knew you would come. Your friend Santiago set up this meeting." The plan was falling into place at last.

"He told me you would be upset- but he was paid well and you'd be smart to forgive him. Information is a valuable commodity in your field. He could very well initiate a total ban, you know."

The figure turned.

"Well, go ahead and kill me. I just stopped you earlier because I wanted to collect my thoughts and let you know that you're not the assassin you think you are. Hell, Santiago could be your bos-"

Tonight the world would be one man poorer and one man richer.

And somewhere in Russia, a top-secret laboratory would discover a missing cache of experimental drugs- drugs which caused psychosis and depression. Looks like Santiago is to be trusted after all.

Edit: I'm going to leave a comment that says how many capitals there are. Much like Faust, I need to up the ante from time to time. Leaving said comment will hopefully satiate those who like to be challenged.

I'll also include a hint- but don't look until you're stumped.

Stars and Stripes

2006-07-07T14:19:00.000-07:00

An amendment that would have made burning the U.S. flag illegal recently failed to gather enough support in Congress. Which is strange, since most politicians don't appear to be terribly deep thinkers. I'm quite sure the average person would be for the amendment, so it's curious that the politicians didn't fall on their side of the fence.

What I do know is that I'm sick and tired of people using the flag in ways never imagined. Used car and appliance dealers feel the incessant need to shower their goods in Old Glory, in the hopes that someone passing by will be struck with an incessant fever of capitalistic patriotism. It cheapens the thing that so many have been willing to die for.

(I understand the argument that it's just a piece of cloth, but I like to think that humans can collectively imbue inanimate objects with profound and symbolic meaning. The Mona Lisa, after all, is more than just paint on canvas. Tolstoy's writings are more than just ink on paper. At least, I hope everyone thinks that. By the same token, the American flag is more than just red, white, and blue cloth.)

I don't agree with people who burn flags, but I lump them in with the same group as the aforementioned shysters who drape it over anything and everything in an effort to make a dime. They have no respect for the thing, either- it's just another way to seduce the buying public.

My only beef with flag burners is that they do it so much it loses its power to shock the public. It should be a "nuclear" type protest option, one that is rarely utilized. It shouldn't be done when the Senate passes a bill you don't like, or you disagree with the President. It should only be done when one has a serious belief that the country itself is no longer holding dear to the principles on which it was founded, which is why Jefferson charged us with overthrowing the government if it ceases to meet our needs.

For example, if the government started seizing people's properties and banning religious freedom, I would probably burn a flag in protest. For at that point I would no longer believe in the country the flag represented- meaning the flag would be meaningless to me. Those that burn the flag now do so because they want a war or statute changed- not the country's democratic perspective as a whole. It's like tearing down the entire house, because you just can't agree with the bay window the new project leader had installed.

(That's not to say I wouldn't punch a flag burner in the face- it's only to say that when I did it, I'd realize I was a jackass who was trampling on the rights of others.)

Big Budget

2006-07-07T12:15:00.000-07:00

Superman Returns cost roughly 250 million to produce (rumors are circulating that it cost much, much more).

250 million dollars.

Can you imagine- because I can't.

How does one spend 250 million dollars making a movie? One quarter of one billion dollars. Isn't the point of a movie to make money, and lots of it? Starting off that far in the red can't be that great of a business idea.

At some point it must be cheaper to just blow up real stuff than use computers to make us think it just blew up.

I'm not saying that movies should be made cheaply, only that movies should be based on plot elements. When people gather around a campfire, they want the storyteller to make them believe the house burned down, not actually watch it happen. A cheaply made movie with a well-developed plot will inevitably make more money than an expensive movie that bores the audience to tears.

By comparison, The Blair Witch Project cost about $25,000 to make, and earned over 248 million dollars for its effort. Why? Because it was different and interesting- something an overly expensive superhero movie at the turn of the century isn't.

Oh, Superman will make money, but it won't be terribly profitable. Those souls who are always drawn to Aristotelian spectacle will flock to the thing in droves. But it could have been made better with less money and more intelligence.

Polar

2006-07-05T18:16:00.000-07:00

"A house divided against itself cannot stand..."

- Abraham Lincoln, 1858

Our nation is not exactly divided, but the cloth is frayed at the middle.

Over the last fifteen or twenty years, the vast majority of people in this country have drifted from the center and taken up ideological residence at the far extremes of political thought.

ABC News showed a special roughly a week ago that focused on a sociological study. People with a range of political viewpoints were placed in a room together and asked to come to a consensus. Instead of compromising (which would seem the safest prediction to make) the more neutral participants in the study generally caved and agreed with the more extreme viewpoints.

Apparently, this is happening on a national level.

Take any "hot-button" topic of the day- abortion, gay marriage, immigration, or the war on terror- and the best answer is probably an amalgam of the two dominant political viewpoints in the American political arena- Democrat and Republican.

However, the two groups have been overtaken by a vociferous and belligerent minority that neuters any potential chance for open and healthy discussion before it begins. Both sides are guilty of plunging their heads in the sand, as far as it concerns the other side's arguments.

The wonder of democracy is that there is a natural solution which will present itself over time, whether we like it or not. As I see it, there are two possibilities. Either a charismatic and personal candidate will arise (in the mold of Clinton or Reagan) that will help bridge the gap, or a (reputable) third-party candidate will emerge and successfully straddle the political Colossus. The second option, which is less likely, will become more feasible as the parties drift farther and farther away.

As it stands now, however, all political discourse of any merit has shut down- we are left with those on opposite ends lobbing dangerous and pointless missiles at each other- missiles that do nothing but damage to both sides and does nothing to advance the discussion.

What makes us human is our ability to communicate effectively, reach compromises, and shape the world as we see fit. Right now I hear a cornucopia of garbled static filled with catch phrases approved by pollsters, grumbles from those who refuse to yield based on arcane notions of pride and boorishness, and the silent screams of a nation that must use too much energy to remain a cohesive social fabric.

As Yeats said, "Things fall apart." It appears that maxim is applicable to political institutions as well. Let's hope the ship rights itself in time to continue its storied course.

On July 4th...

2006-07-05T18:04:00.000-07:00

North Korea launched a handful of missiles, all of which fizzled harmlessly into the Japan Sea. Their "long-range" missile could only stay in the air for 42 seconds before breaking apart. It was so pathetic that the U.S. military didn't even bother to send out their Interceptors. Yawn.

Meanwhile, in the U.S., we sent up a space shuttle which successfully carried various human beings into outer space. We'll carry out scientific experiments and resupply a space station, I think. In other words, it hasn't landed yet.

Summary: America 1, North Korea 0.

Footnote Hell

2006-07-03T13:05:00.000-07:00

I've been working for about two hours on my Law Review paper. Here's what I've got:

1. A fairly decent title.
2. Two extremely rough pages.
3. Elevenish footnotes.
4. No will to continue.
5. A growing knowledge of how much this process is gonna suck.

Here's to being a law student!

Holidays are Hell for Bloggers

2006-07-03T11:13:00.000-07:00

"Now I don't know if it's right or it's wrong,
But maybe it's the only way,
To talk about our Revolution-
It's Independence Day."
- Martina McBride, "Independence Day"

It's the July 4th weekend, and the number of visitors who frequent my site has dropped precipitously. Which is normal. It happens every time a large portion of the population gets a holiday.

I suppose they're doing "normal" stuff- spending time with families, hanging out outside, just generally wasting time.

How dare they?

Doesn't everyone know by now that the point of living is to work your life away until you're dead? It has to be, because it's certainly not to establish meaningful human connections. That's heresy.

So enjoy your time and sunshine, workers, for Wednesday we'll all scurry back into our gloomy little offices and perform our dreary roles.

Until the next holiday, that is.

Talking Points

2006-07-01T22:21:00.000-07:00

1. Gave away my living room set today using a neat website I enjoy known as freecycle.org. Basically users offer items they don't want anymore, and other users carry it off. I'm happy about it- I would have hated to throw them away.

2. I don't know how national this commercial is, but Chevy has a 3-day sale announcement running on television that ends with a father and his son touching pink ice cream cones together in celebratory conquest. It's the grossest, most vile piece of Freudian filth I've ever seen on the small screen. Either the writers were perverted, or they have no idea what imagery is, or how to use if effectively. It's that inappropriate.

3. I just realized I own over 250 pounds of pet.

4. I'll expand more on this later, but my wife and I gave our 30 day's notice a few days ago. We'll soon be moving south of Jackson. It'll be a LOT cheaper and closer to the law school and work, so that should help out a bit. This will be (counting on fingers) our fifth move in four years, if my math is correct.

5. Watching reruns of Alias makes me tired. The plot is hard enough to follow when you view the episodes sequentially; viewing them piecemeal borders on hysteria. Last time I checked, watching television was supposed to be relaxing. Instead, I feel like I'm failing a Mensa test everytime the show comes on.

Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall...

2006-06-30T20:43:00.000-07:00

I've had five and a half Coronas- it'll surely be six by the time this post is done.

Gulp. Gulp.

That said, I feel the need to reflect on the effects alcohol has on my system.

Many writers have turned to the "devil's drink" for inspiration, and I suppose I see why. It relaxes the incessant and ubiquitous internal criticizer that damages every writer. For every writer suffers from a disease known as insecurity. We worry our writing isn't good enough; we worry that other will mock that which comes from our heart and soul.

It is a difficult thing to lay out for the world to see all that which we believe and think. We risk utter rejection and scorn. Such a development would forever silence our viewpoints and beliefs- surely a hell for any writer to weather, much less a young an inexperienced one.

I rarely imbibe alchohol in sufficient quantities to cause any mental impairments. In general, I don't think that's what alcohol does. Alcohol only exaggerates the persona we normally inhabit; it is flame to the gasoline which routinely sits in the recesses of our soul.

I'm positive that at this moment in time, it would be illegal for me to drive in any of the 5o states. My reflexes are sufficiently slowed to the point where driving a motor vehicle would be positively insane.

Allow me to expand that point- anyone who drives drunk is a complete idiot. Of course, there are exceptions (such as an impending nuclear attack, for crying out loud) but 99% of the time, it's a bad idea. In my experience, alcohol doesn't blunt or impede the brain's ability to think- it only slows down the physiological reflexes.

For example, my diction does not decrease with alcohol consumption- if a policeman were to question me, I could bedazzle him with my rapier wit before being led away. By the same token, I am still able to type almost as well. Granted, I make more mistakes, but my inner corrector is still alive and well, going back and cleaning up the mistakes. It might, at most, take 5% more time to write this post than a comparable post written while sober would take to create.

All in all, I rarely drink. I don't think I tried an alchoholic beverage until I was 22. But on occasion, I will drink a bit.

My question is this- are you truly drunk if you're still in charge of your mental faculties? Because I'm not quite sure if it's possible for me to reach that point. I think my body would pass out and shut down before I ever reach that stage.

I understand the legal standard is different (as I said earlier, anyone who drives drunk is an idiot) but I'm of the opinion that alcohol's only significant effects (at least on me) is a slowed reaction time and a mental relaxation. It doesn't effect my ability to think in the least. So those who drive drunk can't blame the alcohol- they were stupid to begin with, the alcohol only gave them an excuse to carry out the stupid thoughts that wandered about in their stupid brains.

Edit: From what I can tell, there are two grammatical errors in the above post. I'm going to leave them as they are for historical purposes. Since I've imbibed alcohol, there could very well be more, but I doubt it. Much like my previous post, alcohol only reinforces the belief that the truth is something we can never know- sober or not.

Site Update

2006-06-30T09:52:00.000-07:00

I removed my Google ads a few days ago- I think I had earned about $4.00 in over a year of blogging. It wasn't worth the intrusion.

Added 3 new links under new "Internal Dialogue" section to the right. (I call it this because the links all focus on Mississippi-related issues, and might not be terribly exciting to some of my far-flung visitors across the globe.)

Speaking of which, I have received visits from Norway, England, and Germany in the past few days. How they ever found my blog (and chose to actually return) I'll never know. Yet I suppose that's the power of the internet.

Regardless, I like to briefly introduce a link before just blinding posting it.

Rule12b6.com is an online community/website developed by a law school peer. It's goal is to be a meeting place for students at Mississippi College School of Law, as well as area attorneys. It's an ambitious goal, but he's tackled it with hard work and elegance. I wish him well.

Not the Last Word is written by someone who works in the legal world (I'm not sure what he wants out "there," so I'm playing it safe) who likes to post his opinions on various topics. As the title of his blog suggests, he's very open to healthy debate.

Mississippi Law is a site run by two or three? guys in Mississippi who like to debate various legal situations which arise in our state. For those of you living in Mississippi, it might be interesting to check it out.

Truth

2006-06-29T22:43:00.000-07:00

What is truth?

Keats suggested that truth equaled beauty, and vice versa.

It's a neat syllogism, but I think it's somewhat simplistic.

Instead, I hold that truth is largely inconceivable to all humans. Our limited senses and finite minds cannot comprehend something so grand as "truth".

In other words, we don't know nothin'.

For example, everyone knows that 2+2=4. But is that a "true" statement? Is it any more true than the statement "pumpkin + coleslaw = Honda Accord?" The former is true only because we deem it so, and for no other reason.

We determine our environment solely from our five senses. As those five senses aren't perfect, our perception of the environment is flawed, and our determination of the truth is necessarily limited.

Imagine if we developed a new sense, and our whole view of the world changed before our eyes. We cannot estimate or categorize that which we cannot discern.

As humans, we are playing with a puzzle with worn pieces and possible missing parts that we likely will never find.

I'm sticking all the pieces back in the box, and simply deciding to live my life. There's no use playing with a broken toy. I'll simply make the decisions I think are best based on the information I have, realizing that said information is probably just a sliver of the entire data set.

In short, we will never know the answer to "What is truth?"

But then again, that could be a lie.

Who knows?

Upkeep

2006-06-28T11:54:00.000-07:00

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our Light, not our Darkness, that most frightens us.

- Marianne Williamson

I find much sense in this statement, especially in present day. The media has forced us closer to our dark selves than in any other time in American history. We are comfortable with the concept of evil. There's no shock, no dismay, no bile in the gut when we watch murder and pain and betrayal on TV. Catharsis doesn't exist because our emotional dam burst long ago, and whatever trickles out during a performance isn't worth mentioning.

Fyodor Dostoevsky, one of my favorite authors, wrote a novel entitled The Idiot. It's about a guy who is actually decent, and what happens when he encounters the universally hypocritical society around him. Most of the characters determine that he has slipped off the mental balance beam, based on his selfless actions. It's hilarious and incredibly depressing, all at the same time.

We can't handle true goodness anymore- it's an alien concept, like unadulterated evil used to be before it showed its face one too many times.Their must be a balance. When we have no relief with which to contrast evil deeds, we lose the ability to recognize it as evil. Instead, we only see varying shades of gray and fail to sound the alarm when true danger passes in our midst.

I am especially guilty of this. My guard has been systematically lowered over the years- my moral filter too old and torn to collect the new clumps which head my way.

In other words, I need a change.

Law School Shortcomings

2006-06-28T07:34:00.000-07:00

My first-year experience was filled with reading case after case after case after case-many of which contradicted each other and/or were outdated. I understand that the process is designed to show you the historical underpinnings and ambiguity of the law, but I imagine the process could be done in a less confusing way.

However, that was forgivable- tradition is slow to yield and there are some valuable truths to be discovered in reading old cases.

It is, however, the total lack of focus on statutes that I feel was most misleading. I can count with one hand the number of actual statutes I think a professor mentioned in class. Theory, as least in a classroom setting, appears to be centered around the capricious opinions of judges.

In practice, however, I use statutes on a daily basis. The lawyer I work for will say, "Find the statute and see if this person has standing to sue," or "See what the statute has to say about this." He has a small and modest law library, most of which is taken up by the Annotated Mississippi Code. And yet for the most part, it's all a truly competent lawyer would ever need to try most garden-variety cases.

The "Annotated" part means it gives you lots of good stuff to start with- which is all that's needed to LexisNexis your way to some current caselaw on the matter.

Cases are important, but they are a secondary byproduct (for the most part) of statutes. Opinions are nothing more than interpretation of the law as it is written. If the legislature doesn't like the "interpretation," they simply change the wording of the law, based on past opinions. A good simplistic example is when the legislature changes the word "may" to "shall", after a court determines it's not necessary to do something based on the language.

This is not to say that statutes are "black-letter law." Novel situations cause discrepancies in the current law that have to be plugged by judicial interpretation. Eventually new laws are made, or old laws are challenged, and the process begins anew. Black-letter law could only exist 1) if no new circumstances or events arose, or 2) our finite minds could write laws to cover infinite possibilities. Sadly, neither is a realistic option.

I say all of this only because I wish that law school focused more on the statutes themselves. They serve as both the backbone and life-blood of the everyday workings of our legal system. Law school has a tendency to focus on the fancy yet relatively useless flesh of the thing a bit too much. To make matters worse, much of the skin focused on is either dead or dying.

Fork in the Road

2006-06-27T09:42:00.000-07:00

It’s been too long since I had a chance to just stop and think. To let the world slide idly by and not try, for just once, to catch up. It’s a good feeling.

Most of my recent posts have had a sense of urgency to them, at least in my mind’s eye. It seems the world we live in refuses to let us simply be. Cautious worries of dangers unique to this time- terrorism- combined with the inarguable fact that we are becoming immersed (and isolated) by technology do nothing to impede this process.

Of course there are personal events as well that impose themselves upon such a sense of harmony. I have work, Law Review, and an upcoming move (more about that later) to prepare for that take time and energy to effectively manage. Most of these, albeit, are self-imposed crosses that I bear, but still the weight is sometimes great.

It is important to remember the value of rest. Even Christ fell under the weight of his cross at Golgotha, just as God rested after six days. This is an important point- God chose to rest. I think that if we could know why an omnipotent and omniscient being chose to just be for a while, we would be close to understanding the order of this world.

The world is not interested in knowing the answer to that question. Humans are woefully incessant creatures who push themselves farther and farther- and yet to what end? Why must these things be done? Why must we rush about? No one asks anymore, they just simply do. The sinking sun is just another signal to switch on a light and continue the day’s work. And, worst of all, we believe the old lie that if we work hard enough, one day the work will stop- things will be done and we’ll be able to do that which we truly want to do. In truth, that day usually comes long after we’ve left this earth.

Nature, however, understands the solemn song of rest. The seasons fall in a cycle; the blazing growth of summer takes place for less than half a year before falling into the gracious decay of autumn and the peaceful dearth of winter. Volcanoes heave and thrust with amazing power for moments in time, yet sit idle for much of their existence. Even the smallest flower will open with the sun and close when it sets, as if on a cosmic cue we have taught ourselves to ignore.

I worry at times that I’ve run out of things to blog about; in truth I just haven’t been looking. When I began this blog, my eyes were different, seeing and discerning things an optometrist couldn’t begin to imagine. Now I worry they are beginning to dull, and the ho-hum existence of life is slowly beginning to take its weary toll.

And yet, all is not lost. For it is the mere recognition of such a state that is its own salvation. We can only pull ourselves out of a chasm when we finally, blindly, strike the darkened walls with our outstretched hands. Whether we see it or not, a light shines above.

Words are weak and actions strong, and time will tell if this clarion call actually forces me to get up and do something about that which I feel so strongly. But there is a change in this lump of flesh typing these things, that much I know for sure.

Just sitting here for a few moments with nothing but this entry on my mind has done wonders. I feel I’m approaching a great Truth, and I hope I am able to embrace it. As I write this, I am 26 years old. That leaves me with roughly 50 years (if I’m lucky) to make the journey. At least now I have the rough outlines of a map in my head to guide me. It is the map of a less-traveled path beneath the airy stars, under the moonlit shade of an oak tree.

I hope one day to find it.

The Law is Not Enough, Late and Soon

2006-06-26T11:10:00.000-07:00

North Korea is apparently about to "test" fire a Taepodong-2 long-range missile somewhere over the Pacific. It's capable of reaching a great deal of the United States western coast, many experts believe.

MSNBC reports that the missile has been fueled, a process that is difficult to undo and which signifies that the North Korean government has crossed their strategic Rubicon, so to speak.

North Korea argues that it has every right to develop long-rang missiles, and technically speaking, they're right.

Each country, as a sovereign territory, can pretty much do whatever the hell it pleases- within its own borders. It can join pacts and treaties and promise to play nice- but in the end those aren't worth much.

It's hypocritical for the United States to tell another country what they can and can't do. Can you imagine our response if North Korea (or Sudan or Portugal) demanded we throw away our nuclear weapons? We'd say they don't have the authority- and we'd be right.

That said, this is one of those circumstances where the possible outcome is so potentially horrific that you cast all that theory aside and turn their missile making plans into smoking, little craters.

This missile test is calculated to do two things- bring North Korea to the international spotlight and help them rattle their sabers, which is what they do best. I say we rattle the saber for them.

If not now, when? We know they've got a long-range missile (they didn't build it for nothing) that can reach the U.S. and we know they're threatening to fire it. Of course, they claim it's for defensive purposes, the same reason the redneck in north Georgia uses to defend his ownership of a fully automatic weapon. We allow the redneck's lie because at best, he'll kill three people at the Seven Eleven. However, North Korea could cause a LOT more damage. They could take out a large portion of Los Angeles and claim it was simply a mistake. "Ooops. I suppose we should have adjusted that."

We need to send them a strong and clear message that this activity, whether lawful or not, will not be tolerated. Simply because we can. Might doesn't make right, but it certainly helps when the right have might.

Lastly, all of our cherished laws mean nothing if we are but burning corpses in a shell of a courtroom.

Pit Bull Ban

2006-06-24T16:40:00.000-07:00

An area in Jackson, Mississippi has recently banned pit bulls. Cities across the country are banning these creatures, due to repeated and horrific attacks on innocent men, women and children.

It's an idiotic approach, but an effective one.

I've never owned a pit bull and I can't speak from experience- but it doesn't take a master sleuth to realize what the real problem is. Namely, morons are training these dogs to attack and kill each other, and then they act surprised when the animal decides to attack and kill other animals (i.e. human beings- I'm pretty sure a dog can't comprehend the fact that we aren't truly animals, whether you accept that particular view or not.)

Using Skinner type psychology and a little time, I could turn anything into a trained killer- a miniature poodle, an elephant, or even a human being.

I understand there are certain breeds that will attack for no apparent reason (those closer to the old line of wolves) but pit bulls aren't among them. Instead, trained due to their immensely powerful jaws, they are rewarded and praised when they use said powerful jaws. Any animal quickly makes the connection that to hurt and kill equals praise and food.

The great majority of animals in this world, domesticated or not, will not attack humans unless in fear of their lives. Very few see us as a food choice. Those that do attack will do so out of territorial concerns- the same reason we usually kill (someone entering our house, e.g.) Even snakes bite as a defensive reaction, not an offensive one. If given the chance, most animals will leave us alone.

Unless we train them to kill.

However, it's impossible to tell the trained pit bulls from the normal ones. So we make a utilitarian decision to ban all of them in an effort to make people safe.

I'm all for it, but don't blame the dogs who do the killing. Blame the people who trained them. Those people should be put in a ring and forced to kill and injure each other while everyone cheers- or torn to pieces by the very dogs they trained.

End of an Era

2006-06-23T14:05:00.000-07:00

As I've mentioned before, I am currently working in a small town. Well, starting tomorrow, it's going to be even smaller. The local hardware store is closing its doors, after one final "Everything Must Go!" sale in the morning. It anchored one third of the only "shopping center" this town has- the other two stores being a local grocery and a Bill's.

It had been open for as long as I can remember.

The reason it closed? Two words- Home Depot.

Yep, the Big Orange Behemoth has recently placed itself in an interstate town roughly eight miles away. Little 'ol local hardware store couldn't compete. Just think about it- Home Depot might buy a billion screws at once, whereas this guy probably bought 500 or so at a time. Who do you think gets the better deal?

(This is also why Wal-mart can sell for so cheap- of course, it's buying power is even larger.)

I know its capitalism, and good business sense, but this town will never be the same. I don't blame Home Depot for moving in (admittedly, it was a smart move) but I am sad the little store is gone. There's much to be said for progress; but I hope in the process we don't always have to destroy those things that came before in order to achieve it. Had not people with that kind of entrepreneurial spirit blazed the way, Home Depot might not have ever existed.

Now, the people of this town will have to drive 16 miles roundtrip just to get a key made, or to buy an air filter. I realize that's not so great a distance to drive, but it seems a bit long when your purpose is so menial.

This town is on the verge of reducing itself to "bedroom community" status- if it's not careful, people will only live here, and then drive back and forth to work, shop, and eat. As it stands now, a determined soul could avoid driving into a larger town. It has a post office, grocery store, drug store, and a few restaurants. The loss of a good hardware store, however, robs the town of some of its independence and makes it rely on other cities to survive. A small reliance, granted, but one that may have aftershocks and repercussions in the years to come.

Job Update

2006-06-21T19:01:00.000-07:00

Today I went out to a tiny little town and collected evidence of some damage caused to a gas station. I took several photos and discussed the incident with the lady working there.

Take that, highly-paid workers in the big city! I bet you don't get to go out and do stuff like that.

That's one of the big benefits of this job- I'm learning the practical ins and outs of being an attorney.

Law school itself is basically helpless in this regard, since it's rooted so firmly in theory. Real-world law is not dictated by pointy-headed professors.

Here's a brief list of the things I've learned how to do, and it's been roughly a month since I began:

1. Write and file a complaint (for trespass, partition of land, odomoter fraud, etc.)
2. Write a summons, serve said defendant, and then file the proof or service with the clerk.
3. Send a certificate of service.
4. Write interrogatories, requests for admissions, and request for production of documents.
5. Write demand letters to insurance companies.
6. Write orders (to determine heirs, assess damages, etc.) and send to clerk to have the Judge sign.
7. Write motions (to deem admission admitted, summary judgment, remand to state court, etc.) some even going to federal court.
8. File documents in the federal court district's new electronic system.
9. Interview clients and acquire contracts for said clients.
10. Assist in real estate closings.
11. Do some (albeit quite limited) title work.
12. Fashion deposition questions.
13. Write and get an order for heirs published in a generally circulated newspaper for three weeks.

Some of it is largely my own effort, but all of it involves guidance from my boss. But I'm learning quick, and more and more stuff is getting past his glance with little more than a shrug.

Add to this the fact that I'm meeting several attorneys and various judges and I couldn't be more content with my current position.

Write-On, Write-Off

2006-06-21T08:48:00.000-07:00

I begin writing for the Law Review competition on the 23rd.

I must become a master of the BlueBook¹, which is the bible for law school comments and casenotes. Which is funny, since I learned the ALWD Manual² during first-year.

Horror stories (some true) about the competition abound- that just one misspelled word spells doom to the unwary writer, and if a footnote is one character off- well, you might want to look at HVAC school³. I'm just sayin'.

Basically, it's an opportunity for those who are gluttons for punishment to shine. Which sucks, since I'm kinda laid back.⁴

_______________________

1. www.legalbluebook.com
2. www.alwd.org/cm/
3. www.hvacschool.com
4. Just ask anyone who knows me.

What I Would Say If Running for Law School Office

2006-06-21T08:02:00.000-07:00

This is why I'll never run (much less win) in a law school election.

Now is not the time for cheap and easy promises.

I say these things knowing full well I will lose this election, but also because they are things worth being said.

I will lose because they are things no one wants to hear, talk about, or discuss in polite conversation. Yet they are also things of truth.

We are past the time when elections simply mean handing out free pizza and promising to hold more student-led parties. Or at least, I hope we are. To do anything of consequence, we need a leader who will look beyond his constituents and toward the incoming law school classes on the horizon. And yet we need constituents who will do the same.

We need a leader who will face the truth- that most law school officers are merely placeholders until the next placeholder can arrive. We need someone who can break that measly tradition and turn this opportunity into a way to help others. We need more than just a bullet point on a resume.

We must look to help the school, as opposed to wondering what this school can do for us. We must sacrifice our short-term and selfish ideals for goals that can actually bring about beneficial change to those who follow after. For in the end, our legacy is all that will remain in this place. Over time, even the memories of parties and pizza will woefully fade.

We must assist the community, instead of deride it and ask why can't it be better. We must acknowledge that in today's society competent legal representation is a need and a right among those who cannot afford it- if our catechism of "justice for all" is to be more than mere words. And we must draw the connection that perhaps, just perhaps, some of our neighbors are in the plight they are in because competent adequate representation did not exist.

We must step outside ourselves, and place the mantle of responsibility of our chosen career high on our shoulders. We are guardians of justice- it is time we started acting like it.

If you do not agree with this message, please cast your vote for someone else. I'd rather lose the election than lead such people.

Thank you.

I Farked Myself

2006-06-20T21:19:00.000-07:00

I posted my blog on fark.com just to see what would happen.

What is this blog, you might ask? It's a collection of musings, observations, poems, pictures, and reflections. The law school experience plays a large part, but does not define the blog itself.

I'm more interested in the search for truth, and how that theoretical construct actually plays out in the practical universe.

That, and stray dogs.

On this blog there are 382 posts about my life. A trained psychologist could probably learn a great deal if they read through all of them, but that might not be a truth worth knowing.

I'll let you, the visitor, make that determination.

Welcome to my blog, farksters who happen to stop by. I hope you enjoy.