It's Not That I'm Ready...

Finals are upon those waiting for their turn at the Bar. We've reviewed out materials, drafted outlines (or in my case collated all the notes, outlines, lectures audio files) into a comprehensible attack format and should be prepared for our exams.

Of course, none of us ever truly are prepared. The malleability of the law, due in no small part to the flexibility of language and the shifting political concerns of the day, create complex issues the greatest legal scholars fail to provide fully sufficient answers for. What limits should be raised upon police action with regard to the right to counsel prior to indictment? How can society best ensure the protection of media industry's rights while satisfying average owners expectations of "ownership?" Must the right to free speech continue unhindered by any governmental intervention, or may society disallow conversations found to be useless as a matter public discourse?

I have no answer to any of these questions, but am prepared to take on the first, have an inkling as to the third, and the second . . . well, the second I will leave to those with an interest. Suffice to say that we, mere law students with a few months education in a variety of increasingly complex legal issues, are abhorrently unprepared for the task ahead of us.

Yet, we generally persist on in our studies. The promise of money undoubtedly underlies many of my classmates' aspirations . A thirst for knowledge, while not of paramount concern, can be found in everyone's eyes. Mostly, however, we fear the potential to falter. The average intelligence of a law student surpasses that of many other fields. We are bright and interesting individuals who generally work the system so that any potential that might be worked over is nullified.

And that fear was greatest at the end of my 1L year. A body of law so profoundly daunting so as to make any other mental challenges pale in comparison was before us, and the exigency of perfection was promoted by our terror. Not even the possibility of the unanswerable hypothetical causes me to lose a moment's sleep.

The fear is gone. I'm a 2L, and I have a stable internship in an office I hope to work at some point. I know what my future holds to some degree of certainty.

So, it is not my adequate(?) level of preparation that gave me a pass to write this post. It is that I am not afraid anymore, and think it is okay to procrastinate. God help me if my lack of fear puts me in a terrifying position on my report card.

Catharsis On A Bone

From an early age I loved ribs. Beef, pork, lamb, whatever; where gnawing is necessary, I am happy as a clam. (Conversely, that you don't have to gnaw on clams makes them an inferior food source.)

Today, I made a personal pilgrimage to my food Mecca. That is, I went to Reno. The Nugget's "Best of the West Rib Cook-Off" gave me the opportunity to taste a variety of ribs, baked beans, coleslaws and hush puppies. I ate until waddling became necessary. I killed an acre of the rainforest in napkins, and ate the accompanying wildlife equivalent in pork products. In scale form, I caused the polar ice caps (here, ice cubes) to melt.

And I am coming back next year.

Look at this photo. Notice the charred edges. You, my fortunate readers, are literally SEEING flavor. The sauce tasted like a honey/ketchup base, but had a decent amount of pepper. I later tasted a rib with a sauce only applied before being removed from the heat, and the textural experience of eating the rib suffered: the sauce's coating made the cook's skill in determining "doneness" (a magical moment few are capable of perfectly determining) a non-issue. The second rib's meat was more moist. The first had a sauce. If the second had had a sauce, I may have asked permission to follow them on the road.

While the recipes captivated my attention, the tools and techniques would impress anyone (even blasphemers who "don't like ribs"). Recipes are proprietary secrets closely guarded by individual grilling competitors. The monstrous tools necessary for the mass production of barbecue cause me to hope (pray) for a back yard large enough to house my own twenty foot grill. And two sides of pork to grill. No. Four sides. Six? . . . Please?

My own fixations on barbecuing aside, the competitors have expertly grilled for eight hours a day over the past 3 days. They will continue their efforts for the next three days. These lucky few are living the dream, as demonstrated below.

For the record, this man literally painted barbecue sauce on six racks of ribs. Inferior doesn't adequately describe my immediate reaction.

This gentleman relaxing before 8 racks of ribs. . . and a controlled fireball. If John Nash (of "A Beautiful Mind" and "Game Theory" fame) mathematically expressed the relative career of the griller and me, he would determine: Grillmaster >>>> Lawyer.

Note the four "greater than" characters.

More of the same, but this grill and griller arrived from Texas to be voted the best ribs in show. I wholeheartedly agreed.

If anyone has any (hidden) interest in attending next year, let me know. I will be making a second pilgrimage to this holy place where mana rains down from above. I mean . . . wait. I'm not obsessed.

Avoiding the Grind

"The wheel of the Good Law moves swiftly on. It grinds by night and day. The worthless husks it drives from out the golden grain, the refuse from the flour. The hand of fate guides the wheel; the revolutions mark the beatings of the heart of manifestation." ~ Helena P. Blavatsky, The Voice of Silence

That Ms. Blavatsky fabricated a hoax beyond even Ms. Cleo's abilities should not undermine the value of her quote, if interpreted with an eye toward the practice of substantive law. We who have chosen the law have knowingly and willingly (and possibly foolishly) hoisted the weight of the world on our shoulders, and submitted ourselves to an industry so difficult that its pedagogy is dedicated to fragmenting deeply held beliefs before reconstructing them on solid ground.

Because of this burden, every once in a while we should escape from the walls we have built.

Living in a suburban utopia complete with street lights every 500 feet, I seem to forget too easily how bright the full moon is with no light pollution. When I took this picture (on my iPhone, so I apologize for the lack of clarity and landscape) the mountains were lit up, every tree within a mile glowing in response to the midnight light. Escaping all signs of humanity left a calming clarity rarely found in the rush of the city.

To my readers who are law students, we (I) need to take a trip to Lake Tahoe some time this year. We are missing the opportunity to escape the responsibilities we have undertaken, even if only for two days. I hope that with our collective intelligence, we will be smart enough to take those few moment to breathe in nature, rather than the law. Those moments away should refresh us and provide us with enough rest to avoid the pitfalls of our daily grind.

As proof of the necessity for a regular escape, consider whether you secretly prefer the excitement of the following quote to the inherent drudgery in the quote above.

"Although human subtlety makes a variety of inventions by different means to the same end, it will never devise an invention more beautiful, more simple, or more direct than does nature, because in her inventions nothing is lacking, and nothing is superfluous." ~ Leonardo DaVinci

My Love...

I guarantee I will disappoint veritable romantics with my misleading header. Rest assured, you sonnet memorizing would be fawning idealists, a future post will chronicle my love life (I'm lying). For those remaining readers, this post is on my latest fascination: cocktails.

The Southern Staple

Mint Julep. Young writer looking to channel the American classics? At the bottom of your julep cup you may catch Twain reciting his recipe: "First, take the best damn bourbon you can find . . ." Despite my lapse in historical accuracy (the quote above is almost certainly apocryphal), the drink conjures images of graying men, reclined on a whitewashed porch, drinking and dozing themselves back to a simpler time. Their simpler time may have included segregation, but I am modern man hoping to glimmer understanding from a past generation's simple pleasures, regardless of their complex vices. So, pour your way back to those less stressful days. If this libation offers a means to travel back in time (it must be how Twain's Connecticut Yankee arrived in King Arthur's court!), be sure to ask the author for his actual recipe.

The Classic

Martini. Classic tuxedos, beautiful women, dangerous men and Walther PPKs come to mind. If your mental image has yet to materialize, let me offer a helping hand. Differences of opinion endure despite the drink's lengthy history, and Bond's flippant order ("Vodka martini, shaken not stirred.") breaches the two overarching debates. Gin or Vodka? Shaken or stirred? Every would-be mixologist harbors personal preferences (Vodka, not Gin. Stirred, never shaken.), but a universal understanding persists: the martini offers an easy classic for all occasions.

The Long-Dead

The Sidecar. I maintain a secret hope that the motorcycle sidecar's inherent thrill is eponymous for the danger in imbibing a few too many of these sweet drinks. My experiences at Original Joe's, an Italian restaurant reminiscent of the restaurant scene in "The Godfather," demonstrates the decline of this beverage. My order of deep fried oysters and a Sidecar caught the waiter's attention. Apparently, in my server's previous 40 years of experience, both of these orders border on extinction. While the Sidecar no longer holds a position of prominence in the cocktail world, glimmers of its influence persist (See the California Cafe's "American Sidecar.") If you want a means to show bartender your "spirited" knowledge is greater than their own, order a sidecar. Smart money says their response contains some form of "What is in that?!" Enlighten them, and enjoy.

The Two Note Favorite

The Seven and Seven. I am not going to offer a long explanation here. It is simple to make, difficult to truly enjoy, and something both men and women should feel comfortable ordering. Trust me, order this drink at your next visit to the bar. It will not disappoint.

Cocktails are the liquid variation on fine dining. If fruits equate to wine, vegetables to beer, the greatest room for expression, and thus perfection, comes through the combination and manipulation of these two subclasses to create cocktails. With these few recipes in mind, I challenge each reader (all two of you) to experience a bit of "fine dining."

Should you stumble across a recipe you find worthwhile, please share. Who knows, after a drink or two (or ten) the sonnets may flow freely.

What Scott Turow Forgot to Mention

A generation of would-be law students turned to one book for insight into their then upcoming 1L year. The memoir foretold of days consumed with interpreting frustrating inconsistencies in judicial dogma, obfuscated sources of law, and cryptic professors. These daily activities (chores?) mirrored the difficulty in surviving sectional drama, study group formation (and subsequent dissolution), and the occasional pining for the life left behind.

I stood amongst those readers, convinced I would reread Scott Turow's One L as a prediction of my experiences to come, rather than a recounting of another man's exploit. Much of those prognostications became reality; as I write this, the intricacies of Criminal Procedure and my own inability to perfectly grasp the issues gives me more than a few moments pause. Then again, a sense of calm, alien to Turow's story, keeps my feet firmly on the ground as my mind swirls.

I, gratefully (and deservedly), have an advantage to the Scott Turow of the story. I am not a "One L".

As this year's classes begin , the 1Ls seem especially ill-prepared for their current undertaking. They are all exceptionally intelligent, each having been at or near (or possessing the ability to be in, had they injected some effort into their studies) the top of their class at their respective universities. All (a caveat for engineers) have outgoing personalities. Many have advanced degrees, and "know" they can tackle these problems as they have before in alternate academic arenas. And, yet, every single one possesses none of the skills necessary to be a lawyer.

Law school, like medical school, requires a tool set unique to itself. Prior experiences, even working within the legal field, fail in preparing hopeful candidates for the rigors of obtaining a J.D. As a result, each of the 1Ls will mentally struggle in ways they could not have dreamed up even had put their best, and most conniving, effort forth. And yet, they will end this academic year more capable than when they began. I know this to be a fact because I can see such strengths in the 2Ls in my classes. (The 3Ls have the ability, but none of the drive. As they say, "Your 1L, they scare you to death. Your 2L, they work you to death. And, your 3L, they bore you to death.")

So, to the 1Ls of this year (despite not reading this) I say good luck. You will need it.

To the 2Ls, congratulations and a question: can you think of anything more satisfying than not being a 1L? I am sure Turow, the Fall of his 2L year, could not have.

Medi -a, -um, -ae, -ans?

Modern technology has developed a litany of mediae (not mediums, or so my computer tells me) to transport complex messages, elaborate dramas, and other things I cannot begin to understand.

Despite this variety, I think that one stands paramount amongst the rabble. This medium has reigned supreme across the last half century. Nixon lost an election due to this medium's persuasive power. A lone man stepped upon an other-wordly body, yet the entirety of humanity (except skeptical disbelievers) shared in Neil Armstrong's conquest from nearly 240,000 miles away.

Television trumps all.

While previous generations associate moments of political grandeur and human achievement as the spectacles with the 'ol "boob tube," in my lifetime moments of real human experience have hardly been the norm. The daily dramas, sitcoms, "reality" escapades, and stand-up comedy specials have replaced true human experience. Rarely do we receive sensationalized tidbits reminiscent of the real world -- think "I did not have sexual relations with that woman," or, unfortunately, Stewart Smalley's (Al Franken) induction into the "League of Extraordinary Gentlemen" (aka Senate) -- rather, scripted and feigned personality have become the norm.

Yet, despite dearth of unscripted life on television, we find/create connections with what we view. Three times in the my life has a melodramatic, producer driven, mega-bucks series actually affected me. First was the Joan of Arc Mini-Series that took the nation (maybe just my TV) by storm in the late 90s. How unbelievably attractive Leelee Sobieski (her parents should be shot for that name) was aside, it showed the intolerance of man. Maybe she was schizophrenic and fulfilled "God's" mission, but does such a full hearted effort warrant church driven murder? Why would people kill someone for what they believed? As a 14 year-old kid, this thought plagued me, and the story-line had me emotionally invested.

Next was the show I cite as the greatest the world has ever known: The West Wing. I am not creating a hyperlink for a reason. If you don't know, get a clue and season 1. If you do know, I hope you see where I am going. Politics in the mid-90s had devolved into a moralistic shouting match: the consciences of the Left demanded social action (or tax payments) to provide equality for all; the morals of the Right protected traditional values instilled in our Judeo-Christian culture. And yet our nation’s greatest leaders failed in developing a coherent strategy that tempered these two (apparently) opposing views. And then NBC elected President Bartlet. Here was a man who, even in his most flawed moments, strove for a reasonable answer to his citizen’s problems. If such promise could not be voted into our lives via the electoral process, at least we could satiate ourselves with a mock government in tune with the populous' expectations on public discourse.

And, finally, we come to the unassuming, unpretentious, and often mindless shows we attach ourselves to. For my money, no greater example of mind numbing entertainment exists than “Scrubs.” Zach Braff aside (a grand point to set aside indeed), the show had a quality missing in its peers. Waxing poetic and philosophical were underpinnings of J.D.’s entire being. Despite being short of “The Apology,” the show at least made jokes while following the daily experiences of an average group of individuals viewers easily related to. This show sneaks moments of clarity between a capuchin chimp banging cymbals. To top it all off, it is the show that gave us “Guy Love.” And, after eight years of watching the show, I had a hard time accepting these “lives” were over. I am not obsessed with drama, but I have learned to invest myself over time into characters I find relatable. That investment is TVs greatest asset.

Television not only speaks to us as radio does, doesn’t simply grant us a brief window into the lives of a few characters as movies do, or only leave us hanging as the greatest novels do. Television does this all. On television, stories are told as eloquently as the radio ever could, windows literally years in the making are provided, and, upon a great show’s completion (like Scrubs and The West Wing), the viewer can’t help but wonder what has become of those characters over the course of their lives. Television has the great privilege of combining all we know about human interaction and communication, and providing it to us more efficiently than any other medium.

Simply put, I am glad I live now, rather than in another age where the radio, “talkies,” town crier, bard, or paintings on a stone wall were the extent of our story telling ability.

And by the way, Neda, this one was for you. I hope studying abroad is going well.

Because People Shouldn't Be Afraid of Being "Middling"

So, here's the verdict on the Spring semester: Contracts- B, Civil Procedure- C+, Constitutional Law- B, Property- B, LARAW- C+

One rose, another declined, and the remainder set me at the middle.

Bring it on 2l.

Oh, and Steiny, I'll be seeing you in match 2, "For Damn Sure, I'm Gonna Beat Crim Procedure."

Yeah, I am done rhyming for today.

C-SPAN, Home Improvement, and Sheep

Had we been engaged in a raucous game of Family Feud, the survey would almost definitely have been on "Things I have seen on television in the last twenty seconds."

Law school offers no perspective. Tunnel vision develops within at the primary stage of your studies (read: first day of class), becomes your only means of viewing the world midway through the year, and by the last day of your finals, the world outside of Prosser, Scalia, and Steinman (if, upon reading this last name, cold sweats do not ensue, consider yourself fortunate) have permanently vacated themselves from your mind.

And then Summer happens.

Flowers bloom around students too engrossed (used pejoratively) with minute legal differentiations to enjoy their beauty. Baseball beckons, yet lawyers-to-be have earplugs capable of muting the American classic's siren song. Bikini's and board shorts beg to be worn, left at the wayside in favor of a pinstriped suit.

And then Summer happens!

I posted my last three sights from the television because they are literally amongst the probably 30 times in the past ten months I have watched live TV (actually I mention C-SPAN because it is amazing; democracy in action, my dear readers!). I harped on the ease of college life as compared to the post-graduate world in a previous post, but the matter warrants a second mention. To the frat-dudes and sorority gals: stay put. The keg-stands end with the Dean's dutifully handshake.

For those readers/persons having recently completed their trek through THE 1L experience, congratulations. Enjoy whatever internship, employment, or classes you have undertaken. Just promise me your television will not be neglected as it has. At least not neglected for something so mundane as Marbury v. Madison. Walking to Jack London Square for chicken and waffles will do as well.

Come out from your tunnel, grad students. The light at the end has the NBA finals on it.

With that, I am walking to Jack London Square for chicken and waffles. Happy Summer.

Delays

I, like many of my readers, am in the midst of law school finals.

If you have not been here, you don't know. Please, for your edification, read the post below.

Due to the impossibility of these exams, I have had to delay publishing a few posts. I will have them adequately edited and posted on May 19.

Wait, May 20. May 19 will be a day of recovery from absolute and unabashed debauchery.

A New and Personal Hell (That Too Many Understand)

Yes, finals are tough. Especially for you, high school senior with an acceptance letter to your chosen collegiate institution. And you, undergrad student (at places not CalTech, MIT and other elite institutions) with your notes glued to the keg upon which you are "standing." Finals, represent the culmination of hours of preparation (procrastination), studying (surfing the net) and reading (requesting more time). And, subjectively, the finals are difficult.

Except that they aren't. Not in reality.

With an objective mindset as my saber of sarcastic anger, follow along as I cut down these "difficult" times!

High school student. . . your workload only gets harder. Take the pre-collegiate time to enjoy your lack of responsibility. You have been accepted to a college, and will be far away within five months. If community college lies in your future, which I wish I had intelligently chosen for my path, prepare for a continuation of your high school naiveté.

Undergraduate, your are on a "real life" stall. I miss college. Not the "drinking until [you] can't feel feelings," but for the lack of actual responsibility. Fine, I miss the drinking. But more importantly, I miss the life that was dedicated to ensuring that tomorrow you would wake up and have nothing too weighty to consider. Those graduating, welcome to the world. Now, quickly, before your institution of higher learning closes the door, turn around and demand that the university rescind your degree. Nothing beneficial shall come from the real world. Possibly money, but only through hard work, an enigma you have yet to face.

And, finally, law school. I don't know many people in other grad schools, but I would imagine the feelings occupy a similar sort of space. I write this having just left the library, a dark and drafty place, after hours of studying. I believe (read: am convinced) that at this early pre-finals moment, most of my classmates (a) are going to be wearing a new white jacket with oddly long arms soon, (b) hate any and all associated with the law personally, (c) think that the legal education process was designed to destroy the average human being's spirit, (d) all of the above, or (the secret answer your overly arrogant/paid professor "accidentally" failed to mention) (e) has a duffle bag loaded and ready to play out their latest masterpiece, "Law School Musical: The Reckoning". Undoubtedly, they all think the same of me.

On top of this, I (and my classmates) have four exams coming up (in the next two and a half weeks) that require the memorization of enough information to fit into a few thousand pages. Per class. In three days.

To fill our post-finals time (what many call and enjoy as "summer"), each of us has obtained a position where we personally will be responsible for the legal futures of many an individual. "Fortunately" for us, we have just begun to warm up. For, oh dear reader, after law school, no supervisor who ultimately takes the blame will intervene to prevent our mislabeling of a "Capitol Offense" case, and dropping it into the "To the Capital" folder (I have nightmares). No ability to say "I don't want to do this anymore." Each of us, ultimately, will maintain a professional lifestyle with stresses greater than we now feel.

Our sanity is questionable, that much we know. Fortunately, we undergo this process to fulfill a dream.

That fact horrifies me, though. This nightmare is our dream...

Living the Life

Some moments in life don't take well to description. My first baseball game, finally perfecting the art of riding a bike (I say art since a few friends, okay one, still don't know how) and finding some sort of artistry you excel at all fit in this category. I have been fortunate enough to have more than my fair share recently.

First, a religious ceremony. I had the great honor of attending a confirmation for Jackie's younger brother this morning. Objections to having a sever-year-old "choose" to commit his life to God aside, something in the ceremony gives off a sense of tradition rarely found in modern society. The miniature cathedrals that Catholics call their houses of worship were once described by my step-dad when he said he "may disagree with the Catholic doctrine, but man do they know how to make a building look and feel like God's own presence." Such a setting combined with a reverent ceremony, and I am still reeling. I have had my own personal struggles with faith, but inside the walls of a Catholic church, I can no more deny the presence of something beyond my life than I can take flight. The building alone is too honorific of God to be treated with any less respect.

Second, sports. Rivalries make up the core purpose of sports, just ask anyone from Big Blue or Red, a Tarheel or a Blue Devil, or the Raiders and. . . everyone else in the NFL. I am a San Jose, California, native. My entire life, with the exception of a four year stint in San Diego, has been lived within a five mile radius of the city. And yet, I can't seem to muster home town pride in our sports. Stanford, while not technically in San Jose, is hated by locals for their "city upon a hill" mentality. Something about those Cardinal wearing preps makes the word "snob" come to mind. Lately, I have been the outcast in a sea of teal. . . quacking all the way. Yes, I am a Ducks fan, and yes, we are kicking San Jose's ass. I have also been punched in the face twice, when I wasn't looking, for quacking. Yet, quack I do. I don't think I could stop even if I wanted to at this point. From here on out I have been branded the "Ducks fan," and if I stop, the mocking ensues. So I will quack until the Ducks lose to Detroit. Quack.

Finally, the professional world. I must first state that I am technically not allowed to give legal advice (strange that I advised myself on that), so don't ask. That said, my Mom always asks, especially now that I have a sliver of knowledge. I was questioned about a provision in my grandfather's lease on an automotive property, and whether he or the tenant was responsible for maintenance. The answer was simple. To me. Not her. For the first time, I utilized the skills I have honed over a year to aid my family. Not to be too "Italian," but helping the family takes up a large part of my purpose in attending law school. It felt great. I spoke with my Mom later about the feeling I got, and she said it reminded her of the first time she cut hair. My dad felt the same calling in managing a team, my brother in building his first computer, Jackie in teaching a class, and every other successful person in their experience as a professional for the first time. Who knows, maybe I am in the right career path.

These three events, all of which occurred in the past 24 hours, all give me a general rule: we should strive to create moments where we are fortunate enough to witness a commitment that will hopefully become an integral pillar of a person's life, give us a legitimate reason to get fired up, or give a sense of satisfaction could not be achieved in any other way. Root, even when it might get you hit. Walk into the church and have a talk with God, even if your relationship with the big man has cooled. Use your talents to find happiness. 

Happiness, after all, may be more rare than we think. Or, maybe, it just doesn't come about without effort.

A Guilty Society With a(n Unfortunate) Sense of Calm

I am not humble. Much to my dismay, I am viewed as "cocky" by my closest friends and even my mom (she actually used the word "arrogant," but still). It may be my greatest personal challenge, but I freely admit this fundamental flaw in my character. Rather than make my "greatness" a spectacle, I turn my tendencies into a joke. And yes, for those who enjoy irony, I think this demonstrates my extraordinary self-awareness and commitment to self-improvement.

Again, I am not at all humble. I am not, however, proud of my state of mind.

Unfortunately, some seem to flaunt their greatest flaws. The author of that article admitted, and got a plea bargain for, his own illicit actions. In effect, he had stolen money from the citizens of Chicago, and lived the good life as a result of his actions.

Oh, and convinced the New York Times to provide him with a grandstand from which he could brag about his activities and promote his upcoming book. In perusing the article, no hint of remorse can be identified; the author seems too preoccupied reliving his penthouse romps and cosa nostra interactions.

As one of very few newspapers that hasn't begun the now expedited process of dying, and one of an even more select few that receives national attention, the New York Times should be dedicated to providing commentary on the state of society. Instead, they have created a platform for show-boating; worse, the activities put on display by the op-ed constitute violations of the law. The Times fails to even attempt journalistic responsibility with an at least half hearted pretext.

I misspoke above when I said that the Times should provide commentary on society; they have, and the message couldn't be clearer: criminal political activity has entered America's definition of "normal." I agree that Mr. Goehl should receive a forum to lament over his past indiscretions, and even that the Times would be a suitable place for such a statement. I disagree, however, with the unapologetic tone. This blog (it appeared on the front page of nytime.com) heralds the beginning of Mr. Goehl's book tour. A tour to popularize his memoirs, for which he received a "six-figure deal."

Hundred's of thousands of dollars... with that kind of money, Mr. Goehl should be able to buy back his penthouse apartments, and rub elbows with the mafioso again. Lucky him. Not so lucky us.

Unfortunately, even in the cloud of my arrogance, I can spot an improvement society must undertake: begin feeling guilt over the wrongs we commit. Without an effort at improvement, our arrogance may become our narcissistic downfall.

(Note: For any who are interested in sociological studies on this topic, they exist. I have read the book, and the findings are unfortunate at best.)

The Reason for the Season

If you have never played, you don't know.

Never dug in a small trench with the front of your cleats, marking the spot you want to land your toe on at the end of your release? Never slid into second, the baseman's glove tapping your back as you stand up? Never had to wash grass stains out from diving for a pop-fly, even if you missed it? Then you have a mission: get out, and see the game so many love and embrace from the Spring to the Fall Classic.

Every sport has certain experiences that cannot be recreated except in a game. Beating the defense down the middle and getting the finger roll to fall while being fouled (because it was all the defense could do to stop you) defines the experience of basketball for many amateur hoopsters. Getting the "shake and bake" (for once!) to leave the defense looking left while you sprint right makes every football game from there on out a more valuable experience.

But, for me, nothing incites the same emotional response as baseball.

Watch the pitcher the next time you are lucky enough to make it out to a baseball game. Even before he takes his first pitch, he will probably stand on the mound, and just stare toward home. In those moments, when no stress exists to make the game a challenge, and the pitcher makes his first warmup throw, sheer glee (because happiness doesn't quite define the feeling) seems to emanate from the mound.

Baseball season has begun. Kids playing Farm League will be swinging for the fences. Professional baseball players from the minor leagues to the Majors (the difference in capitalization is no mistake) will as well.

Three games under my belt in the first two weeks of the season, and I couldn't have had more fun. Yes, every time I have gone the "home team" has lost, but who cares. I got to see a guy throw a baseball, which weighs 1/3 of a lb., at 90 miles per hour, only to have another player hit the ball with a stick, rocketing it 150+ feet in the air, where a fielder IDs the landing spot, and catches it 300 feet away from the hitter.

Newton would have loved this game. And, that, amongst many others reasons, just adds to the fun of it all.

Culinary Exploration

I am a foodie. My skills in the kitchen define the phrase "slightly above average" (though I made my own caramel and ice cream in a pinch a month ago), and my taste buds have become capable of determining the differences between a table wine and the vintner's blend (either way, I don't like tannins). Despite this, the distinctions between a grape grown in Napa and one fermented on the banks of the Loire will forever elude me. But, I will try each, and enjoy them to my fullest abilities.

Along the same vein of thought, I have done what I can to start a new tradition. Two weeks ago, I ate my first traditional Po' Boy, and a bowl of homemade Jambalaya. I succumbed to the temptation for Irish Coffee, and ate oysters on the half shell. All this was done in the name of exploring the culinary world.

I dream of one day owning the finest beluga caviar (could it really be worth eating if you must utter "beluga"?), sipping champagnes with tiny bubbles (was this what Don Ho was writing about when he penned "Tiny Bubbles"?), and awaiting my filet mignon.

For now, though, I am interested in Americana's influence over modern cuisine. Next weekend, I will be traveling to St. Helena (just north of Napa) for what has been described by Bon Appetite and Gourmet magazines as the second best burger in America (if anyone is interested, please let me know. There are always spots available for those also interested in food). Gourmet magazine, a periodical with a name so snooty I almost feel lower class by comparison, gave space to a burger; even greater, this burger doesn't necessarily have cheeses imported from German llama farmers. Their cheeseburger has American cheese (faux pas? Oh hell, naw...).

Michael Pollan, author of such books as The Omnivore's Dilemma and In Defense of Food: An Eater's Manifesto (both works I highly suggest/own and will borrow out) has catalogued the modern human eating experience, and created a short summary: we have lost our way as a species. Food is not mere sustenance. The "lowly" burger represents the culmination of the harvesting of grains, the raising of a cow for consumption's sake, and cheeses (American cheese is cheese. I declare it, it is so) created with the human pallet in mind. Add to that the saltiness of pickles, the crunch of lettuce, and the perfect accent of Heinz ketchup (catsup?) and mustard.

Even then, though, something in the experience could be missing (so says Pollan, and I agree): someone to enjoy the good with. I don't mean that special "someone." I mean anyone! For most of human existence food was a time to sit down and enjoy one's family. Today, we just eat. I eat, on the average, one meal a week with another person. Why? I live in a library, sure, but also because food has devolved from its position of status to mere calories.

As such, I suggest culinary explorations with friends, family, fellow students, hoboes, millionaires or any other random human being. I am going to St. Helena to have one of the best burger's in America. If you are interested, or you have an inspired idea for the next food adventure, let me know, and I will go with you. I hear "garbage plates" are a delicacy best savored with a sub-par Canadian beer, and that Argentinean steak alongside a local vino rojo can best the greatest of French cuisine (I have my doubts, but would want to try). And these are just a few of the suggestions I have gotten . . .

Food for society's sake. Eating for the purpose of enjoyment. Strange that this is so novel.

Edit Note: Not five minutes after I posted this (meaning in the past five minutes) my friend (another great writer in his own right) said that I "use so many words" to "convey something that ultimately amounts to a dollar on the value menu." That's the point. If not for the description of food, we would simply be consuming calories. That food is no longer important to our experience, to put it plainly, sucks.

Nothing but ...

I am not a natural born athlete. I don't mean athletes who top their respective sports (LeBron James, Derek Jeter, and Lance Armstrong). Those few aren't athletes; maybe not even human (I am convinced Lebron was born a 25 year-old). I am not the kid who won at sports playing on the block, though I was on the same team as those people. As per street sports etiquette all should know what that means: if paired with the best, you are the worst.

Recently though, I have undertaken to change that, at least in basketball. I lay in bed at night, listening to legal lectures, basketball in one hand, wrist exerciser in the other, working on my shot and hand strength. I spend hours at the gym walking around in circles dribbling with only my left hand. I have tried to be "that guy"; the one who never actually plays the game, but seems ever present.

Why? Well, for starters I am not ready for the full court game yet. The title of this post was no accident. The NBA's phrase "Nothing but net." doesn't apply to the average American. We simply aren't capable of hitting the swish (is there any more beautiful sounding sports term?) on a regular or predictable basis. Backyard ballers often seem as likely to miss the rim (read: backboard) as they are to hit only the net.

I may have overstate earlier that I have no athletic ability. When I was playing baseball on a regular basis I could throw a 70 Mph fastball and a decent curve (I can't do either anymore), and by the grace of some greater power I can still see the landing spot a baseball when the ball leaves the bat. I still play a mean second base. But baseball and basketball?

Seems like comparing foozeball and hockey; somehow it just doesn't quite connect.

But a glut (or lack) of skill aren't why I play. Those reasons are more personal; more about history and passion. First, I have memories associated with the sport. Seeing my brother's nose broken (twice!) with our neighbor's poorly flung elbow, beating my dad at a 1-on-1 game at 12 years old, and besting my best friend from high school (captain of the basketball team) and his dad (the guy who trained the best friend) in a game of HORSE, and a whole litany of others. These memories send a message whenever I hear the telltale dribble echoing off of walls and garages: lace up, and be sure you keep tight on D. And watch for elbows.

Second, basketball offers the greatest opportunity for embarrassing your opponents (see 1:04, 1:30 and 2:00) of any sport (I will grant soccer equal standing). Think of times on the baseball field, football field, or tennis (I only include tennis because I can't think of another example). Have you ever heard of anyone's "ankles being broken" because they were left behind off of a slick move in baseball? Can even average players pull off trick plays in football (Boise State aside)? Is tennis even a sport (No, seriously, is it?)

Finally, because basketball never bars improvement. In football, you are limited by your speed or throwing prowess, and practice will never allow you to throw that 50 yard bomb, or to two-toe-tap after a sprint while catching a a laser-like pass. In baseball, 95 Mph fastballs whizz by even college level players, leaving them wishing their hours of practice could have been combined with some innate talent. And, in tennis, people can only grunt while hitting a 2 oz. ball to a certain decibel at the amateur levels of the event (until Harvard and I get a decent argument, it isn't a sport).

In basketball, everyone can improve, and even a slacker like me, who never practiced until he was 23 years old, can improve to the point of not being "that guy" who is afraid to play.

At the end of the day, nothing but basketball offers the combination of skill, effort and memory. That may be why nothing but my best efforts will do. Until then, "that guy" will still be practicing his left handed dribbling. . .

Heroes

Who is to say that they don't exist?

At the very least, the Thai people refuse to give into their greater "sensibilities."

Spiderman, the greatest superhero, exists.

New Rules of the Game

I consider myself to be a man of tolerance. I attempt (though fail often) to be calculating, emotionally divested, and generally impartial in my consideration of opposing experiences and views. Perspectivism, which finds that true enlightenment comes from a baseless approach to any activity involving human nature, rather than facts, is the name of the game. (Admittedly, perspectivism requires the admonishment of at least the view that the “human condition,” making it hypocritical in nature.)

Best efforts aside, there are those who deserve no consideration. These people (if they deserve the title of human beings) are the perfect example.

Religion justifies any action; the fear of God, whatever nomenclature we term him by, and eternal damnation trump moralistic objections to acts otherwise considered vile. When these cleanser’s of sin (as I would imagine the Taliban term themselves) take the “sword of God” to a child (read: rocket launcher), destroying or mutilating the most powerless of any society, and what ultimately represents God’s perfect creation (assuming one believes in the creation of man, directly or indirectly) the demarcation should be drawn.

Children, incapable of determining religious convictions, support for a cause, or even the most mundane of adult decisions (my five year old sister’s daily wardrobe takes a considerable amount of time each morning) should never be the target of violence.

Perspectivism be dammed. I hope President Obama takes a zero tolerance approach to any who direct their assault toward those who have committed no wrong. The President should declare the following immediately: From this day forth the death of one child is one too many, and America will not stand idly by; these are the crimes of humanity our conscience should never permit to rest, and our military power employed to resist; no people, regardless of any extant justifications shall be subjected to such terror.

To put it lightly, I will quote comedian Christopher Titus (who admittedly wrote the following regarding priestly “errors” with their alter boys and girls): You fucked a kid? Get the fuck out.

You killed a kid? Your day, along with an armada of tanks, jets, soldiers, and every available resource to stop you, is on its way.

Our Past Refuses to Leave

The ghosts of American failures, mistakes, and blatant abuses of our political theory continue to haunt us through to this day. The nature of a society reliant upon the forced servitude of African laborers defines social relations across America despite a 150 year respite from slavery, and rightfully so. The protectionist nature espoused by President George Washington became dicta in the realm of foreign policy. A fledgling nation, incapable of self-defense (do remember, our capital was burned to the ground in the War of 1812), needed to keep free from the complicated ties brought on by international relations. Treaties, as I have recently learned, trump all other law, effectively granting foreign nation a hand in the legislation of our laws.

The failures of the 3/5 compromise, and the genius underlying President Washington's declaration of foreign policy are the history we embrace; one as a constant reminder of the potential abuses a majority may impose upon a "discrete and insular minority" (For those law students reading, the quoted phrase will become a mandate from God himself in ConLaw II.) and the other as proof positive of the astoundingly impressive nature of our founding fathers.

Surveying recent history, however, provides a tale we American's wish were less salient to the modern context. President Obama, the "Champion of Change," has developed a revolutionary platform. . . except that his ideas aren't revolutionary: they are derived from a contrary nature. President Obama, while intelligent, capable, and the leader of the American Spirit, received the final push (though, please note, he deserved his position more than any other person in the nation) into the seat of power from his stance as the opposite of our past.

And what an ugly past we have. Former Vice-President Chaney, speaking of President Obama, stated on CNN that "(President Obama) is making some choices that, in my mind, will, in fact, raise the risk to the American people of another attack." Put aside questions as to what choices these are for a moment (though just a moment). The policies of the present administration operate to make us safe; the policies of the former breach basic tenents of rights guaranteed to t the citizens. Both, however, revolve around the same issues: should we torture?

So, then, raging liberal though I am, I cannot help but wonder where the distinction lies between these two. I love President Obama, but since his platform rests, of essence, upon rescinding the practices and policies of President Bush's administration, how do I justify his actions as "different" from the politics of yesterday?

Simply: He has created a conversation. Vice-President Chaney stated, " 'I think that’s a great success story,' he said. 'It was done legally. It was done in accordance with our constitutional practices and principles.' " Well, first, it was done legally. As is later mentioned, the "interrogations" were done by the military. This excuses any necessity of fair or unharsh treatment under the Bill of Rights. But the astounding part of this statement is the history behind it: the legality was never a question. The repricutions that might arise as a result of American blindness to the human suffering they were causing never crossed the desk of the President and Vice-President. They justified it: American's are safer.

As much as I appreciate the security blanket provided, I would have rather been consulted. The American conversation occurred as a reaction to the revelations that torture was being committed in the name of American Security. The closure of Gitmo has come as the result of that debate. Having a reasoned response to the facts as they have occurred, to this whining liberal, seems to be more in line with the dream of our founders.

So please, past (Vice-President Chaney), either make a reasoned argument (rather than an incendiary justification), or stop. 66,000,000 American's pressed for change. The least you can do, as a public servant, is respond.

If Only...

If being a lawyer could be boiled down to a card game, my life would be all the better for it.

Oh wait, it can: http://www.ourcourts.org/play-games

I understand the purpose of the site, educating Americans on their country, (according to statistics Justice O'Connor cited, only 30% of the nation can state the three branches of the government), but a video game?

I have a feeling this will go down in history along with games like this, though I honestly wish it wouldn't.

Decisions requiring future decisions.

Everyone has made choices they knew would, at best, postpone issues to be decided at a later date. Some of us go to grad school because we know we aren't adults (Me). Others of us put off joining the work force because the life of laziness seems much more accommodating than one with strict time requirements. Fortunately, these examples have little real world impact outside of our own experience. Sometimes, this is not the case.

The Supreme Court of the United States handed down a decision today which will certainly require some other decision in the future.

The case seems to harkens back to the history of free speech and religious expression in Lemon v. Kurtzman, 403 U.S. 602 for those interested in reading it, but the Court took it in another direction today. The religious sect of Summum sued the city of Pleasant Grove, asking the court for an injunction requiring the placement of their particular religious symbols in a local park alongside the Ten Commandments, which already have a home in the park. Also in the park are non-sectarian monuments, such as a September 11 monument, all of which (including the Ten Commandments) were donated by private individuals. The Court refused their request.

A few notes of mention exist in the decision: (1) John Lennon's "Imagine" had its lyrics, in entirety, contained in the decision. It is of no legal significance, but I find it interesting that the Supreme Court of the United States, a body charged with upholding the constitution of a nation bound by centuries old doctrines, would cite a song about the disestablishment of society. That, and it is cool. (2) The Supreme Court bypasses real issues of Establishment clause violations.

The court bypasses this issue by holding (as it has before) that a distinction exists between "a government entity . . . speaking on its own behalf or . . . providing a forum for private speech . . ." This must be true. Without this, how could anyone advocate for any action, belief, or idea on government property? And, here, the government found that the placement of these monuments constituted an act of governmental speech. So, then, where was the Establishment Clause?

First, it is worth noting that the Establishment Clause couldn't be cited by the Summum because it would equally exclude their donation at the same time as removing the Ten Commandments. Second, this is the first time I have seen an application of the Court's innability to hear cases not before them; neither party argued the issue of Establishment conflict, and so neither did the Court.

The third point worth noting has come as a surprise throughout the entirety of this year's cases: The decision was unanimous. Concurrances were written, but the final count was 9-0. While I disagree with most everythign he says, I have to give credit to Chief Justice Roberts: he has created the Court he promised, one of unity.

I am still bugged by the decision (because this is obviously a vioaltion of the First Amendment), but this is an interesting case anyways. I guess I like the law. . .

I Had a Dream

First, in the dream my brother and I were towing our boat into his friend's lagoon (which doesn't exist). We needed to rinse our shoes which had become sandy, so we went through this friend's father's strictly off limits room.

In there we climbed up on rickety wooden ladders. For some reason, possibly deterrent, bricks of asbestos were stacked in this ladder area. They were labeled with (I kid you not) "Warning: Asbestos! Sorry..." Why anyone posts an apology to their asbestos bricks I do not know. I sure don't... I mean, wouldn't.

We reached the top of the ladder, where we found ourselves in an arms warehouse FILLED with pirates. Don't think Johnny Depp; think of the tip of the ivory coast, machine guns, and ruthlessness unseen anywhere else in the world. My brother, genius and hero that he is (only in my mind and dreams), decides his need to rinse his shoes outweighs the risk of plunder from pirates, and he runs off.

There I am forced to choose between going into the den of theives and turning back (Ali Babba would be proud) when I feel something on my leg. There is, and it should be said that this is my absolute worst fear barring any other event possible in the entire world from contention, a black widow on my leg.

As I begin to weigh my options and survey my surroundings I notice HUNDREDS of spiders around me.

And then, in Looney Toon-esque fashion, I look up. Wile E. Coyote should never have looked down, and I should never look up.

A spider (I am literally frightened by the mere thought of this, and so in describing it I am freaking out... Man.) that can only be described as a black basketball with legs, two recessed red marbles for eyes, and the will of Satan, is suspended above me like the Sword of Domacles.

My dream self, faced with the prospect of a giant spider's imminent attack, utters "Fuck. Alright, time to wake up."

And here I am, two hours later, at 4:16 AM. The only object visible in the blackness of my room is the nonexistant spider in the corner. My eyelids close and conjure the same spider.

I bet you thought it was going to be a good dream because of the lagoon. Yeah... I did too.

Welcome to my world. Lagoon=secret, apologetic asbestos filled ladder ways=pirates=Satanic spider.

Since I can't sleep, I am going to do property.

Infuriating

Just read this waste of blog-space.

If the title of their article doesn't tip you off that my response is going to be long, rambling, and off the cuff, consider yourself warned. I am in a fiery mood, and all I needed was this.

Let's take the statistics one at a time:

First, lowering the corporate tax rates; what a grand idea. The rate suggested in the blog linked to is 20%. Current corporate tax rates are 39.8%. I understand the logic: allow for the corporations to invest the money, rather than taxing it and employing it for government works projects. One flaw: corporations are no longer about building up. Rather, they have developed into profit machines. If anyone thinks that the first thing a company will do is throw their extra money into R&D, they are about to have a share holder suit on their hands.

The current economic situation is one of the worst for R&D in recent memory. Investing your money into products that no one can afford to buy? Wow, what a great idea.

Even better, let the share holders have the money. So that they can do what with it?! Studies have shown that the current American household wouldn't splurge (I know the thought of Americans not needlessly spending is novel, but it is true), but would pay off their credit. Ultimately, the money would go to the banks. Who created the mess. Who are busy counting their money laughing all the way to the ba... wait... laughing all the way to themselves.

Lower the corporate tax rate for multinational corporations to 5%. I understand the idea from a globalist perspective, but our government is not a globalist government. The first priority of the American government is to create American jobs. Explain to me how the nation which requires a higher minimum wage than most nations in the world would benefit at all from a lowered tax rate? Corporations will not create jobs here. They can't afford it. They can, however, sell their products here, take their profits and invest it overseas.

Yes, this is a great idea which will absolutely stimulate the foreign economy. Wait, was that not the idea here?

Unleash America's energy industry? You cannot be serious... Really?! Honestly, where are you living? Global warming not at all an issue? It has been accepted nearly universally that it is happening, even if debate continues as to the extent and effect. There is only one person so conservative that they would go further to the right than President Bush: President Bush circa 2002. You do not want to join those ranks.

How about taking some of the money and creating oil independent energies? Perhaps hydrogen cells, battery cars, electric cars, hybrids, bicycles, and piggy back rides (I firmly believe this is a burgeoning market)? All I am saying is that this is not the solution, regardless of the GDP's bottom line.

Finally, restrain the federal government's spending so that it does not overburden the economy.

As Jon Stewart says only when frustrated, "WHAT THE FUCK?!"

Here is a little history lesson: Tax-cuts stimulate short term growth. Think Reagan era politics, and the early President Bush (W, not H). Times were a rockin', right? Then what happened? An inevitable crash.

Now, picture huge spending eras. Think President Clinton and post Great Depression economic policies. Nobody saw a substantial growth immediately. Matter of fact, it took 3, 4, 5 years. At the end of that time, though, we had a burgeoning economy. How can no one see the correlation?

Oh, and there will be those who disagree with me; I can someone saying now, "But the economy in the post Great Depression era was stimulated by war." Yes, I am sure it was. So, what was the excuse for the economic crisis on the heels of the Republican administration in the 1970s, the same time that Vietnam was going on? Or, what about the early 1990s, where a Republican administration had just finished tax cutting everyone off at the knees, and we had a war, yet a recession occurred.

IT JUST DOESN'T MAKE SENSE!

If you are wondering why I wrote this, it is because I am pissed at FedEx for losing my fucking package. I. Want. My. Hat. Rack. Now!

Time to Learn

So, I have a camera... Sort of.

My Dad is letting me borrow his old D70 until I am proficient enough
to buy my own.

Once I have stored up what I consider to be a decent number of decent
shots I am going to start a second photo journal, so be on the lookout.

A Mix of Fear and Joy

Simple photo; complex emotions.

The person driving (who I assure you looks terrified) is engaging in
student driving. This was taken on what I would suppose was his first
attempt at joining the big kids on the freeway. Oh happy day...

If my readers have a memory from student driving, please share. Would
be glad to hear about all of our own anxieties from that first time
behind the wheel.

My first day student driving I received sage advice: if you want to
slow down, use the brake; letting go of the gas will NOT slow you down.

Because apparently that was not intuitive.

Night at the Rink

Sure, Santa Clara went down in a hellish fireball, but at least I saw
some guy get his face shoved into plexi-glass.

Oh, and Matt scored a goal.

For those keeping track, Matt plays defense for Stanford.

Broncos weren't meant to run on the ice. Apparently cardinals were
meant to fly over it.

America, you are sick...

The diagnostics have returned from the lab, but it seems America has been infected with an insidious disease symptomatic of arrogance (read Republican Party) and a refusal to learn from your fallen counterparts (read Democratic Party).

Each of these posts exacerbate the problem President Obama, high ideals and all, has begun the process of rectifying.

First, the Republican Post. It is worth noting that Representative Price is junior congressman. He is not a podium through which the Republican party sends its official message. Actually, given the current national mood, the Republican party would be a masochistic at best to voice such an incendiary position right now. Then again, Rep. Price is from Georgia; the Democratic party will not be returning there for some time yet.

"Election Day 2008 produced a liberal governing majority that no one envisioned even as little as two years ago. The Democrats control both chambers of Congress as well as the Presidency. And while they are motivated by politics rather than solutions, Americans perceive them as the true agents of change and reform."

First, EVERYONE envisioned this majority two years ago. Those who missed the blatantly obvious message on that were, apparently, in Georgia. The House of Representatives AND Senate (that no one expected, though it was a nice Christmas gift) had been handed to the Democratic party by a President adverse to change, a Congress divided in partisan deadlock. Things weren't working, and change was coming. Face the music, Congressman, everyone knew that come the election cycle, you would be in the minority. Then again, apparently Georgia doesn't get CNN or Fox News.

Second, who is the Republican party to claim that ANYONE is motivated by politics at this point in the game. Eat some crow, and do it quietly, Congressman. Learn some lessons on what American politics are meant to be about: discourse and dialectics (a word I learned, just as an aside, while reading the most un-American of philosophers: Marx). How I wish I could point to my party as an example of this, but unfortunately, they have replaced the Republican party's arrogance with a lack of hindsight.

"The Big Question" is: Do the Dem(ocrat)s need bipartisanship?

I am so very disappointed that the closest thing to a yes came from the Bonjean Company (a public relations firm located in Washington D.C.) who said, "If the Democrats want a public relations win, it is vital that they do everything possible to make the stimulus bipartisan." Neither of the Congressmen quoted on the page demonstrated any tact or foresight (perhaps saying "Yes, absolutely. Even if we ultimately have a bill that the opposing party vehemently disagrees with, I want them in the room. Perspective breeds excellence, and that is what our nation deserves." Seriously, Congresspeople, I am a 23 year old student with no practical experience in politics, and I came up with that off the top of my head.).

Even worse is that the answer which draws the most attention had this to say: "President Obama has been leading the way for Democrats by demonstrating a new way of doing business in Washington. To date, the Republicans haven’t gotten the message." If bi-partisanship is your goal, wouldn't it behoove you to not slam the opposing party at every opportunity? Granted, the author of that quote is from ACORN (think slightly to the left of the ACLU), but it still fails the modern political litmus test (or what I believe it should be): how does this comment lead to a resolution of the issues facing our nation.

America needs both of these sides to pull their collective heads out of each other's asses. At this point in the game, our nation's livelyhood might actually be on the line.

We Real Cool

So, it has been too long.

I am not planning on posting any of it, but I love poetry. Writing it, reading it, listening to it.

Few words, much emotion. Just can't be competed with.

Last night my girlfriend send me a link to a poem that sparked the love again.

http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15433

Now, and trust me on this, read it in your head first. Then read it out loud to yourself.

Then listen to her read it. If it doesn't blow you away, I don't know what will.

Enjoy

Here are the words to it for those who are interested:

"The Pool Players. Seven at the Golden Shovel."

Gwendolyn Brooks

We real cool. We
Left school. We

Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We
Die soon.

"I-Don't-Think-I'm-Smart-Enough-itis"

Far be it from me to mock another person for any insecurities they might have. Those in glass houses shouldn't throw stones.

Then again, should we have to deal with their neighbor, who also lives in a glass house, walking in the nude. Did I mention my neighbor is a large man with back hair? You would have some desire to throw a stone or two, wouldn't you?

I have been accused of being verbose throughout my life. Admittedly, I enjoy the challenge of "speaking intellectually," as my brother coined it. Words demonstrate ideas better than any other medium. Language paints pictures almost as well as the finest oils and pastels. And yet, we abuse the power of communication nature has bestowed upon us.

Example 1) "Ulysses" by James Joyce. The following is a small excerpt of what my girlfriend has termed "literary masturbation" (that is, the author wrote it just to feel good about what he could create... nice image, eh?).

"Solemnly he came forward and mounted the round gunrest. He faced about and blessed gravely thrice the tower, the surrounding country and the awaking mountains. Then, catching sight of Stephen Dedalus, he bent towards him and made rapid crosses in the air, gurgling in his throat and shaking his head. Stephen Dedalus, displeased and sleepy, leaned his arms on the top of the staircase and looked coldly at the shaking gurgling face that blessed him, equine in its length, and at the light untonsured hair, grained and hued like pale oak."

I consider myself to be well read, to possess an expansive (though not all-inclusive) vocabulary, and to make every attempt to continue to learn the nuances present in the English language. I have not a clue as to what "untonsured" means. Contextually, perhaps it means messy; the dictionary says... actually, I couldn't find a definition in any online dictionary. That is how unnecessary James Joyce's style of expression has become.

Example 2) Legalese. Fortunately, the modern world has learned not to concern itself with this particular brand of speech. In writing, however, the what-to-for, wherein, and therefores of the world find their basis in the legal world. John Marshall began the American legal tradition of overusing unnecessary words in Marbury v. Madison.

"If the transmission of a commission be not considered as necessary to give validity to an appointment; still less is its acceptance."

Of course I, and likely most people, can understand this. But why, oh why, should we have to parce through overly complex langauge to get to a point made in plain language: "Appointments are valid regardless of whether the appointment has been delivered; acceptance is unnecessary as well." TA-DA!!!

Finally 3) Law students. Today one of my fellow classmates was asked whether a statement that a car was in "A-1 shape" constituted the creation of a warranty. His response? "I consider 'A-1 shape' to be a more nebulous statement as to the quality of the car, not a specific statement as to the actual quality of the mechanical quality of the car. . ." or something like that. The key word to take away is "nebulous."

Everyone in the room understood every word spoken. Then again, everyone in the room laughed. Why, one might ask? He answered the question very well (correctly as well, though he failed to consider the alternative). He used a few large words (somethign I appreciate from time to time, though when the situation calls for it). Then again, his answer could have been summed up quite succinctly: No. It is not a warranty.

Lesson of the day? Stop talking, writing, or spouting off in any way unless necessary. Even if it makes you feel better about yourself, just stop. We are all laughing anyways, and you are making it worse for yourself.

Yeah, so says the guy who has now written a lengthy post on the failings of verbosity just to prove to himself that he could.

The Supreme Court

The highest court in the land. The place of final jurisdiction. The Court about which Justice Jackson (a giant amongst Supreme Court Justices) said "We are not final because we are infallible, but we are infallible only because we are final."

Every attorney in the nation has an abiding hope that their turn will come one day to stand before the greatest legal minds of our time. Each one of us looks forward to the success to come after decades of struggling to gain recognition enough to be permitted before that hallowed bench.

Well, almost everyone...

Lindsey Harrison broke the mold today. Few attorneys get to enter the Supreme Court Bar. Even fewer argue a case they have invested themselves in (let's face it, most of them are partners and hardly do any reading outside of their Porsche... where they do none).

Lindsey Harrison, you are in an enviable position.

Good luck, or, as Latin (the language of law "they" say) goes: operor non suffoco (Don't choke!)

The Man

This is my brother.



He is old. One can see this in the fire blazing before him... Which he is warming his hands by.

Something about birthdays shows change, but loss. Some time to lead toward our goals undaunted by any possible setbacks yet to occur. A year passed by with some of our dreams missed.

Here is to the next year and making every one of them come true.

The greatest thing in this picture is my sister in the background.

Something about being young and fire allowed in the house attracts children of all types.

Oh birthdays... Symbolic meaning and fire. It gets no better than this.

Home Made Love

Is there anything as satisfying as macaroni and cheese?

This has been an excuse to attempt mobile blogging.

The Wide World of News

Today in the news, American courts have jurisdiction over RUSSIA!!!

Don't believe me? Please, read this glowing account of American arrogance.

I understand the need for the preservation of historical religious artifacts, but there are a few issues begging to be asked here: first, under what theory of law did the District Court gain their jurisdiction. Property which never entered the United States, currently is the property (which apparently is not the simple act of possession, but the right to exclusive possession, conversion to another of that right, or the right to exclusion of the property from another person or persons) by a foreign state, and is, roughly estimating, 6,000 miles from the District Court issuing the ruling.

Rather unfortunate the ruling wasn't passed down in Alaska, eh (no pun intended, my Canadian readers)?

Second, the ruling was passed down under international law. Should the international court system, toothless bite and all, be the venue in which the matter is presented? Seems to be that would be the logical place, but with my six months of legal education what do I really know?

Finally, if the U.S. District Courts can hear cases over Russian property and the Russian state, well, why, in the good Lords name, didn't we exercise this unlimited jurisdictional potential during a brief fifty year period called THE COLD WAR?!?!?!

I can see the complaint now: "Joe Shmoe, citizen of Middleofnowhereville, USA, filed a motion for injunctive relief against Russia to stop being Communists."

Oh what the Cold War could have been had we only known of our judicial system's potential.

Subject to Fits of Whimsy

Often times I get lost in my world of legal nonsense and fail to peek out over the books and read something for fun... Today was not one of those days.

Sure, I finished my homework for tomorrow and Friday. Sure, I demanded of myself that I keep on track with my "No Cs Corso" plan for the Spring 2009 semester here at SCU law.

Then again, the new edition of GQ showed up. Contained therein was a blurb about this fabulous website: Rim Shots Galore (I swear to you the link heads to comedy, not pornography, though it sure does sound like it would be.)

From there, I made my way to this gem of a site.

Not sure what the page you have been sucked into shows? Remember the old 1-800-DENTIST commercials with the mildly attractive woman sitting at her desk, speaking emphatically to the nonexistant audience before her regarding the benefits of good dental work? This site finds people just like that, but more attractive, and publishes them for "fan-boys" the world over to ogle.

Disturbing, no?

No. Pretty funny.

Even better than the blatant sexism in the site is that you can "rate their helpfulness" simply by clicking the stars below their pictures. Somehow these webcreatures determine how much aid these women would actually provide in servicing your, uh, calls.

There are times when I wish I had gone the way of my brother and embraced my dork; this may be the greatest one of all.

Do they have a hotline to help you get in touch with your inner nerd?

Underwhelming...

What is the first word to go through my mind listening to President (YEEEE) Obama's speech today?

No grandiose guarantees assuring the place of the United States in the world; Simply knowledge of the extant capabilities, enduring philosophies latent in our constitutional system of government, and a world seeking a new direction amidst a haze of overwhelming fear.

Maybe America needed to be underwhelmed.

Maybe we need the truth placed before us, waiting for this nation to rise to the call of duty.

Time to step up.

Edit:

I have had some more time to both listen to and read the speech President Obama (it feels good) gave this morning. I have some other thoughts.

First, what seemed a palid speech forewarning of a dark future was hardly that; it was an admission of fault. I have to give President Obama credit for standing before the nation and speaking to them as adults. Here is the quote that brought me to this conclusion: "Yet, every so often the oath is taken amidst gathering clouds and raging storms. At these moments, America has carried on not simply because of the skill or vision of those in high office, but because We the People have remained faithful to the ideals of our forbearers, and true to our founding documents."

No coddling. Little rhetoric, except that to paint a picture. Nothing to placate the masses. Simply this: "So it has been. So it must be with this generation of Americans."

The sentence belongs in the Holy Bible for the power it evokes.

This generation must carry forth the new age of republicanism in America. This generation has been given a society faltering. This generation must not only find the solution, but display it in its actions, in its intent, and in the standard we create from here on out.

I will indulge rhtoric for a moment and convey this quote, simply because of its beauty: " What the cynics fail to understand is that the ground has shifted beneath them - that the stale political arguments that have consumed us for so long no longer apply. The question we ask today is not whether our government is too big or too small, but whether it works - whether it helps families find jobs at a decent wage, care they can afford, a retirement that is dignified. Where the answer is yes, we intend to move forward. Where the answer is no, programs will end."

This promise has too long passed the lips of politicians with no action garnered to further their rhetorical guarantees. If the President does nothing to make this true, his platform has failed those responsible for its election. If he attempts and fails, history will give him credit for being the President who dared to fulfill his promise, despite having gone "down in the blaze of glory."

If President Obama can lead us to the political promised land beyond partisanship and faulty ideas championed out of spite (and I am skeptical), American may fulfill the promise he spoke about today.

I Blame Disney...

With a title like that the number of topics I could be writing on are varied: continued anitsemitism (the man didn't just hate Jews. His ignorance was so pronounced that postmortem rumors of Disney being in the deep freeze revolved around the hope for a world without Jews. The depth of human hatred is astonishing...); perhaps it could be the spread of mice as pets; or, maybe, it could be the modern need for "true love."

This isn't coming from a cynnical place. I am very happily in love, and proud to say it; this is coming from the years of watching many people hope for "wuv, twue wuv."

Jackie made me watch "Enchanted" today. For those of you who don't know, it is the story of Disney realizing how obnoxious every fairy tale movie they ever wrote was. Think of a princess stereotpe, they mock it mercilessly. It may be the greatest thing I have ever seen simply for those moments where nothing goes according to plan and the prince is run over by bicyclers (maybe I empathized with the cyclists?).

Regardless, my girlfriend, every woman within half a century of me, and future generations got their notions of love from movies that tell you that your love will arrive unexpectedly, with jokes, and roses, and no argument (except the one that shows how the two of you are meant to make it because you were ale to reslve a simple misunderstanding).

All I am saying is that this is ridiculous...

Kind of funny... or at least expensive and taxing on my wit. Either way, I wish that Terminator 2 could be seen as a modern love story... luckily for me, my girlfriend thinks T2 is a modern classic worthy of watching on a regular basis.

Ah yes, true love.

Inauguration Day

As has been public knowledge since I learned to say the word "president," I love politics.

My amazing girlfriend found a contest that lets me throw my metaphorical hat into the metaphorical ring: a chance to win a seat at the inauguration by writing an essay on what this one in particular means to me.

So, for you, I have copied it below. Sure I go with the political science and philosophical underpinnings, but behind it is something I have found to be stronger than ever: pride in my country.

Enjoy.

This historic inauguration holds a number of meanings for an even greater number of people. It is the culmination of President Lincoln’s promise of equality. A milestone in the civil rights movement’s “dream.” For some, as my grandfather noted, that we have “been given back the pride our county had lost,” a pride in the electoral process I felt for the first time in voting for the President-elect. The administration’s attempt at fulfilling these dreams underlies many citizens’ intent in voting for and supporting the inauguration of President-elect Obama.

Personally, all of the previous reasons resonate, but each exists under a challenge presented at the inception of this great nation: “whether societies of men are really capable or not, of establishing good government from reflection and choice, or whether they are forever destined to depend, for their political constitutions, on accident and force.” In writing this in the opening passages of Federalist No. I, Alexander Hamilton passed on to the electorate a keystone of the American philosophy: that action must be dictated by reason, and that pure happenstance should be avoided in determining our destiny. Hamilton’s sentiment became responsible for the architecture of our American political, social and ideological structures.

President-elect Obama’s inauguration forcefully responds to Hamilton’s query: yes, we can employ reason to aid our society. Yes, we can develop tolerance and a humble regard for beliefs that vary from our own. Yes, we can elect a government not paralyzed by cognitive dissonance, but capable of synthesizing a solution representative of modern America. And, most importantly, yes, we have taken on our duty owed to the world: to aid the global society in their securement of the most important of values, that of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. The fulfillment of our potential as the glimmering “city upon a hill” will become the American standard, rather than forceful imposition.

This nation, built along the known edge of the world, has developed into the third largest by population, the wealthiest economically, and the most called upon militarily. International organizations such as the United Nations and the International Monetary Fund both operate within our borders and through our tax dollars, and yet our position in the world seems to decline each day because of the global acceptance of the “Americana” attitude. President-elect Obama represents an opportunity to refocus our attention to matters of importance both internationally and domestically. This inauguration represents an opportunity for the United States to resecure its place as a leader in peace and prosperity.

President-elect Obama’s inauguration represents both a fulfillment of the historical American ideal of a call to reason, and a clear message to our posterity that America stands for change. Our future, as Americans, has been secured by a return to our foundational ideals. Our past has been fulfilled through the acceptance of change. President-elect Obama offers an opportunity for both the historical and the future America to maintain this balance that we have found.