Centinel

Allah akbar, except when he isn't.

2006-02-02T07:19:00.000-08:00

Why is it that rightwingnuts like myself get tagged with being anti-civil liberties? Is it because we've let the ACLU define what civil liberties are? Is it the liberal media? Is it Friday yet?

I don't have a big hook here. I haven't been accused of violating anyone's civil liberties this week. No freedom of speech repression, search and seizure abuse, or attempts to prevent interracial couples from marrying or buying furniture at IKEA. I'm actually pretty defensive of these rights, although the whole IKEA thing definitely stretches my convictions.

Anyway, I haven't been able to figure out how the Left has grabbed the high ground on this one. Is it because of the whole "women's right to privacy and get an abortion" thing? Or does it have something to do with the "gay marriage" issue? I know the Libs yell a lot about civil liberties on these issues, but let's face it, it isn't some high minded concept of freedom that's motivating them in these situations -- it's simple political and personal interest. Libs like gays. Libs like being able to have sex without repercussions. Saying that the Constitution motivates their fervor is like saying the Bill of Rights is the reason Larry Flynt publishes Hustler.

In truth, I believe that the Left is as willing to turn a blind eye to civil liberties as the Right. For every rightwingnut willing to sacrifice a little personal liberty in order to catch bad guys and ensure security, there is a liberalcommie who wants to stifle free speech in the name of not offending anyone (or, perhaps, in an attempt to chill debate). Whatever the case, most of us, as Americans, generally agree that there are some "inalienable rights" that we all possess. Generally, the above case not withstanding, we recognize freedom of speech, association and religion. This is important, because a (classical) liberal democracy depends on support and understanding of basic human rights. Without these rights, we would be unable to effectively execute our democratic duties because of viewpoint repression -- that is, without a firm support of individual rights, there is no brake to prevent the majority from doing its worst to limit opposition, which is the very backbone of authoritarian governance.

Which brings us to the Middle East. I've got to say, I have found the current "Mohammed cartoon" tempest the most interesting civil rights display since George Wallace was whipping the bussing pony. For decades now the West has been looking to the Middle East with the hope that each of the countries will quit hating and making excuses and begin working toward joining the 21st Century (or even the 19th). Listening to politicos you can practically see their dreams like they are a comic thoughtbubble: democratic societies sharing their cultural and economic benefits with the rest of the world.

What this latest brouhaha has shown, far better than any war, is the basic root differences between cultures. I use the word culture rather than "civilization" because I think if the past week has show us anything it's that the Middle East is not civilized. It's no secret that Muslim society doesn't exactly foster freedom. In some Muslim ~~hellholes~~ countries, women can't even show a little cleavage. (I don't wanna live like that. The whole women voting thing, however . . . well, let's stay on tangent.) The Middle East, generally, is a poor, repressed, and brutish place where human rights are a myth. Hell, if it didn't have the good fortune to sit on huge oil reserves the only reason you'd hear about the place would be every decade or so when Israel had to put down some impotent jihad every few years.

I don't want to get embroiled in a debate over Islam. Every time some nutjob over there starts talking about destroying Israel or the Great Satan, some "liberal" Muslim in NY gives a nickel quote about how the Koran doesn't support such jargon. Whatever. All I know is that a majority of the population in these sandblasted camel pits appear to spend their days dragging their knuckles and shouting "Death to _____!"

Lemme put this in perspective here. In America, if someone does something to offend the religious sensibilities of the most fundamental of our Christian brethren they will generally issue a press release calling for a boycott. Fine. In the Middle Eastern culture that's just a speedbump on the way to killing all non-Muslims. Let me simplify this: They are upset about a @#$% CARTOON! They want people KILLED! Their leaders have actually called on European governments to punish the offending papers for blasphemy, as if they didn't know that most western democracies quit putting people on the rack about the time that the Spanish Inquisition went out of style.

(This actually reminds me of a "clash of cultures" moment I had a few years ago. I was in western Oklahoma in a printshop, and the girl behind the counter had this frisbee-sized belt buckle. I said, "Nice buckle," and she responded, "Yeah, my boyfriend won it, he was NCAA barrel-riding champion." Surprised, I said out, "There are universities with rodeo teams?" She replied, "I thought they all did." It still makes me smile whenever I think of Dartmouth having a rodeo team.)

I could probably understand the backwards fundamentalism. I mean, hey, we were all there a few hundred years ago, right? What I'm having troubles with is the hypocrisy problem. Some secular Dane draws a cartoon of Mohammed, so the answer is to have a contest to draw cartoons about the Holocaust? Nice and childish. What the hell does Israel even have to do with this? Last I checked it wasn't anywhere near Denmark.

BTW, here's the most mentioned of the offending pics. Good luck finding an American paper with the cajones to print it:

Of course, the upside to all of this is we get some great headlines. My favorite was "Embassy Burned by Cartoon Rioters." I can just picture Deputy Dog lighting up a Molotov cocktail.

To finish fair, I should also point out that Europeans defending free speech is like Tara Reid promoting clean living. I did find it humorous that a French paper published the cartoons one day, and then fired their editor and printed a retraction the next. That was a pretty quick surrender even by French standards.

World Ends: Minorities,Women Hit Hardest.

2006-01-20T07:56:00.000-08:00

What is it about human nature that we have to blame others for our troubles? Maybe it's just me, but lately there seems to be a hell of a lot more whining going on. I go to lunch with people from work, and they want to bitch about petty office issues. I try to talk about a football game and the losing team's fan says it was "stolen" by bad officiating. Hell, I was even watching a show the other night where one of the characters met his much more dashing alter-ego from a parallel dimension, and on finding out that the differences between them boiled down to one small change in their otherwise identical pasts, he spends the entire show bitching that "if he'd only had the break."

It's getting ridiculous. I was listening to Howard Stern yesterday, and he was interviewing former NY Giant Roy Simmons about being a gay man in the NFL and about his fall into crack addiction and prostitution. At some point, Simmons mentions that he was raped as a child, and Howard immediately says something to the effect of "that explains why you turned to drugs."

Whaaaa? With one sentence, Stern wiped away any personal responsibility Roy Simmons may have for every bad act in his life. Simmons doesn't need to play the blame game, because others are clearly willing to do it for him. Did Roy miss a tackle? It's OK, he was raped as a child. Did Roy blow all his money on drugs and end up homeless? Raped as a child. Did Roy end up in NY bathhouses giving reacharounds to fat Italians? Raped/child, See. I'm not busting on Simmons -- he never made an excuse -- but Stern's absolution only shows how trained we've become to blame outside forces for our problems.

I thought I had seen it all, however, but this article takes the cake. According to the esteemed folks over at BET, global warming and continued pollution will only spawn more national disasters, which will somehow disproportionally harm blacks more than others. This link isn't really explained, but, hey, logic and actual reporting don't seem to really have a place in this bit of pre-hysteria.

The storyline is a simple one, but no less hackneyed:

Relatively, Blacks are environmental Good Samaritans. Per capita, we emitapproximately 20 percent less carbon dioxide than Whites . . . Yet Blacks are exposed to worse air pollution than Whites in every major metropolitan area.Some charge that the Bush administration has made matters worse by creating new policies, like the Clear Skies Act and the Healthy Forest Initiative, that allow utilities and industries to pollute more. President Bush enragedenvironmentalists when he opted out of the Kyoto protocol global warming treaty, saying it would harm the U.S. economy.

I particularly like the "some charge" part of the quote. Who need attributions? We can just make accusations and pretend it's news! WHEEEEEE! My personal favorite part is where the author states, "If global warming gets worse, many African-American communities will be more vulnerable to breathing ailments, insect-carried diseases and heat-related illness and death. But asking Black folks to give up gas-guzzling SUVs and other bling is a tough sell." Nothing advances your journalistic credibility like using the word "bling" randomly in an article.

So there you have it. The heavyweight champeeen of victimology. Now excuse me, but I have to do my part to keep the black man down by spraying some aerosol cans in the air.

Frank, you belong to your wife at home, but you're my boy from 9 to 5!

2006-01-15T20:34:00.000-08:00

The firm has been cracking down on internet usage as of late, and I'm a tad irritated. It all started innocently enough -- the memo went out that porn and gambling were bad, unnkay? and all this porn surfing and online gambling had to stop, unnkay? Gambling bores me, and I get all of my porn at home, so I didn't really pay that much attention.

Then I started getting "flagged" at certain sites that I would call, at worst, a bit obscene. The first time was from a Google link to a news story archived on some site. Instead of my story, I got a page alerting me to a violation of the firm's internet policy. What the @#$%? I realized that the website had the word "babes" in the title and figured that the porn filter was kicking back that word. Whatever. Since then I've been flagged all over the place for crap every time.

I finally complained about a couple of obvious goofs and was told that the computer dorks were still working the bugs out of the filter. Whatever.

On Friday it became perfectly clear what "bugs" were left. Now the filter is set up to block anything with "blogger" and "typepad," among other things. Now I can't read blogs or post while at work. Now, as is obvious, I have been reading and posting less over the past few months due to the picked up pace at work. Now I'm stuck having to do both from home with my increasingly limited time.

I'm not ready to shut this bitch down, but I'm a bit discouraged about this turn of events. Actually, color me "pissed" yellow.

It's so quiet up here, you could hear a mouse get a hard on.

2006-01-13T07:44:00.000-08:00

Despite my constant watch, supplemented by the nighttime vigilance of my cats -- who only look like they're sleeping until you poke them a few times -- we have not seen shell nor hair of our man-eating armadillo. He did, however, come through and aerate my yard about six weeks ago. I'm not kidding, there was a 20' X 20' section that looks like the golf team over at the school for the blind was practicing their long irons. I don't know what the bastard was looking for, but he was pretty damn persistent in his efforts.

That does not mean my life have been wildlife-free. The babe and me were driving down a little side road about a mile from our house one night when we almost ran over a opossum who appeared to be napping the middle of the road. I just did stop in time, and I asked the babe if she saw him run off the road, or was he under the truck. She said she didn't see anything, and, like and idiot, I get out and walk around looking under the truck. I knew he had run off the road, opossums are slow, not stupid, but a couple of years ago I had a run in with a football-sized bullfrog who had sought refuge under my truck and wouldn't leave, and I've been paranoid ever since.

Then there was this morning. Since we moved in our house in August, we've had an armoire parked in the garage. A few days ago the babe decided that the armoire would look better in an upstairs bedroom, and had me wheel the monster in to the bottom of the stairs. After measuring for size, weight, and wind speed, we decided that their wasn't a snowball's chance in Houston we would be able to get the damn thing up the stairs. Actually, we were democratic and voted on it, and it was 1-1, with the person who would be doing the actual lifting voting against the proposal. Failing to reach a consensus, the armoire has remained sitting in front of the steps, which is sort of the interior equivalent to having a car on blocks in your front yard.

This morning, I was in the middle of my constitutional when I noticed that one of the cats was staring intently under the armoire. Now, this particular cat is a freak for anything that is small and moves. I can't count the number of times I've found a dead spider, cricket, or gecko on the floor where the jackass had mauled it and left. So I figure there's an insect up under the armoire that needs removal. I get down on my hands and knees and look into the small dark space and don't see anything but a toy mouse. I look up and there is, incredibly, a flashlight sitting on the end table next to me, so I grab it and shine it under. That's when I notice that the toy mouse had distinct, untoylike attributes, such as wet eyes and moving whiskers. Great.

So I go in the utility room and grab my work gloves. I come back, reach under the armoire and flush the little guy. He shoots across the room, drawing the attention of my dangerous cat that, I kid you not, has been observed catching a bird in midair. Now my den is beginning to resemble race time at the dog track with the mouse playing the part of the mechanical rabbit, my cat playing the greyhound, and me playing the fat guy who can't get off the ground fast enough to participate.

Fortunately, the mouse ran into the closet containing the water heater. The problem is that the space is so confined, I can barely see around back of the drum. I go get the mouse-catching tool (which resembles a spatula) and after several minutes I was able to flush the beast out into the neighboring bathroom. I cornered him behind the trash basket, scooped him up, and headed for the front door.

Now, I figure the best thing to do is to put him in the landscaping toward the front of my yard, like that will somehow keep him from finding the house 20 yards away. So I get up there, bend down, and open my hand expecting him to haul ass. Instead, the little bugger started casually walking up my arm, where he stopped on my bicep long enough to take a crap on the sleeve of my dress shirt. Nice. Then he continued his climb up to my shoulder, around and down my back, where he jumped off my ass and headed back toward the house! I manage to grab him again, and on the way to the bushes the little ingrate bit me -- or he would have if I wasn't wearing gloves. Next time, he's cat food.

And that, sir, is why I was late to work today.

It's something Carson Daly came up with.

2006-01-12T14:00:00.000-08:00

As my previous post amply demonstrates, ~~my writing skills aren't good enough to write a check, much less a blog~~ I have a flimsy grasp on mores (pronounced "mor-ays") and tact (pronounced "Centinel is a conceited prick"). Which is why I'm always amused by the things that kick start the angel on my shoulder.

For example, yesterday I ran across this t-shirt and thought it quite amusing (although a friend of my suggested it would be funnier without the "the"). I gave some serious thought to buying the damn thing, but I couldn't get over the whole "blasphemy" thing. Do I really want to risk eternal damnation just to give Yankees fans the business? I'll admit it's a close call. It's probably my old school Southern Baptist upbringing shining through, that had me wussing out. Of course, it didn't stop me at lunch today from replying to a girl who told me she had 12 bridesmaids, "What, did you marry Jesus?" My best guess is that my conscience just didn't get the joke. (I just realized that "Losing My religion" by R.E.M. (duh) was playing in the background as I was typing this. Heh.)

Another moral quandary I'm in concerns my site counter of all things. I took some "me" time away from the blog in December, and when I came back I discovered that my hit counts were WAY up -- like quintupled. It turns out that I had linked to a pic of Johnny Cash giving the one-finger salute some time before I took my sabbatical, and evidently everyone seeking Johnny Cash is bumping up my hits. I actually feel like I'm being dishonest. Like I should either punt the pic link or explain to both my readers that they are a more elite group than my counter would indicate. What's up with that?

I also am curious as to why I'm willing to say words like "retard" and "gimp," but I have a big problem with N-bombs and such. Perhaps that's because I'm a Southerner and we have become particularly aware of the evils of racist speech. At least, those of us from states where teeth outnumber eyes do.

While we're on the subject, why is it that if you decline an alcoholic drink the person either assumes you are a raging alcoholic or deeply religious? Or both, God help you? I know, it seems like this would be something I would have NO experience with, whatsoever -- at least from the point of view of the offeree -- but believe it or not, for several years I did not have a drink (yeah, and those years were called my "toddler" years). It wasn't for religious, moral -- it was just that it was easier to score with drunk chicks when I was sober.

On the flip side, it's probably the only reason I still have a functioning liver. Anyway, it always bothered me that people I didn't know assumed I was some sort of sot or prig instead of just a big pussy. I did always find it amusing how much it bothered people that I wouldn't drink with/around them. As soon as I'd decline, they'd begin working on me by going the "oh, one won't hurt" route or heading for the unoriginal "don't be a little girl" path ("That's something chicks do. You're not a chick are you? Ok. Good talk."). It was almost like they were doing something bad and didn't trust me because I was a big goody-goody. Freaks.

All this to say, I'm beginning to think that it may be time to re-evaluate my moral laxity -- maybe set some standards, raise some bars. Yes, My Name is Earl has got me thinking about karmic import of my sinful ways. Actually, I always thought karma was just some attempt to get me to do good by appealing to the best in me, my self-interest. Brilliant, really. However, recent events have got me thinking.

I was at a bar recently (how many of my stories begin this way?), when I ran into a friend, Sarah. Sarah is an attractive wildchild who just graduated college -- and a week later took a position at a prestigious corporation, Hooters. Anywho, Sarah grabs me and points out another female across the bar, "See that girl," she says, "she drank my piss." OK, you've got my attention. "How?" sez I. "Well," she continues, "I was on the back of the bar and I dropped my pants and pissed in a shot glass while she was in the bathroom. When she came back, I told her the piss was a shot I'd bought for her and she drank it!!!" "What'd she do?" I query. "Nothing!" she says, "I asked her if the shot was good and the drunk bitch said 'yeah!'"

So, a week later I'm talking to another friend of mine, Laura, who is out with her new boyfriend. He looks at me and says, "You want to hear something funny?" "OK," I bit. "I got hammered last night and went home with Laura. In the middle of the night I got up and had to piss. I'm walking down the hallway, and instead of going into the bathroom, I walk into Laura's roommate's room. She's laying in bed, so I walk over and just piss on her. She wakes up freaking out, and I just went back to Laura's room and went to sleep."

Yep, Laura's roommate was none other than Sarah. Instant karma, man.

Not funny 'ha-ha', funny queer.

2006-01-09T23:40:00.000-08:00

OK, I haven't posted lately because I've been out of town on vacation or, perhaps, I've been doing my hair for, like, three weeks. Whatever. I owe you nothing, NOTHING.

That said, nothing has really happened to me worth ranting about. If I had talent I could take the large amount of nothing that has frequently been happening to me and turn it into an interesting, thought-provoking post or two; if I had drive and ambition, I might get out and lead an interesting life that would be worthy of writing about; and if a frog had wings it wouldn't bump its ass when it hopped. Deal with my limitations.

I do have a gripe that's on my mind. Words, man, words.

I want to reclaim a couple of words. First, I've been on a personal mission over the past few years to push the word "gay" back into acceptable usage. Sure, there is a current acceptable usage of the word, such as when you use it to describe someone's sexual orientation, but what I want to reclaim is the ability to use it in derogatory circumstances. Fer instance, when some guy starts talking about spending thousands of dollars for blue jeans, I want to be able to say, "That's about the gayest thing I've ever heard." Notice, I'm not suggesting that "gay" in this situation has anything to do with sexual orientation. I could be just implying that it is really stupid. As it happens, in this case I am also implying that the purchaser of the jeans likes other men, but that's merely incidental.

Am I stating that all gay folks are stupid or somehow bad? No. All I'm saying is that "gay" is a perfectly good descriptor for those of us with limited vocabularies, and should be tenderly preserved. So in the spirit of reclamation, let me just say that I saw Alexander the other night, and it was gayer than a male ice skater. Besides, if they didn't want us using "gay," then they shouldn't have taken it in the first place.

My second reclaimed word is "retard(ed)." Some time over the past decade or so, retarded has gone out of style. I had a acquaintance in law school excoriate me for using the word in a demeaning fashion. She had worked for a couple of years with "special needs" individuals and had a thing about the casual use of the word "retarded." I've been gunshy ever since. Why? It's not like retarded people are going to get all offended by hearing me refer to someone who buys a Nick Lachey album as "seriously retarded." I mean, they're not even going to understand -- I read Flowers for Algernon.

I think reclaiming "retard(ed)" is right and just, if only because they have stolen "special" from us. I think it's incredibly unfair that just because I don't drool on myself ~~often~~, gibber incoherently, or have a degree from a Big 12 university, I can't be special.

While we're at it, can I just say that if I see someone screw up the lose/loose spelling again, I'm going to loose it.

That is all.

A real violation of the public trust

2006-01-04T13:26:00.000-08:00

I don't care how tolerant a country we have become. We can let gays marry, make hot dogs out of turkey meat, and allow Celine Dion to continue singing, but we are still nowhere near the point where, as a country, we can accept people wearing a baseball cap with a suit.

Is it @#$% Christmas vacation yet?

2005-12-22T15:23:00.000-08:00

I can't help but wonder if I'm the only person who graduated elementary school (barely) who laughed when they read this headline. Probably.

More headline fun: While I have no love for store clerks, I would never think to give someone a reward for killing one. That would be wrong. Mostly.

I'm ghost like Swayze

2005-12-21T13:11:00.000-08:00

SNL has been less than good over the past few years, but I must say that this short is one of the best I've ever seen on the show. So, props.

For the Record,

2005-12-21T12:30:00.000-08:00

I wish to categorically state that I have not killed anyone recently, nor do I have any specific plans to do so.

However, if I should run into Michael Bolton, hey, target of opportunity.*

*This is meant as a joke. We here at Centinel do not condone the killing of anyone except those killed in self-defense. And, you know, capital punishment -- we don't really have a problem for sending multiple murderers to the chair/gas chamber. Of course, we also define self-defense rather broadly. Bombs dropped on Iraq, for example, would meet that broad standard. So, for that matter, would a bomb dropped on Anna Nicole Smith's house . . . I mean, have you ever watched her on anything? Despite their 15-year rehabilitation tour, I seem to recall that Commies are pretty bad, too, so it's alright to kill them. Nazis, gang members, and the ACLU are all threats to your well-being, so it's probably alright to kill them, or at least maim them. Now that I think about it, we're not so much opposed to killing per se. I think we will address these matters on a case-by-case basis in the future.**

**Killing Michael Bolton is still probably wrong. Well, if he's not singing at the time, that is.

Soylent Green is people, yo.

Congress is so strange. A man gets up to speak and says nothing. Nobody listens - and then everybody disagrees.

2005-12-20T07:09:00.000-08:00

Rarely does Congress overflow with the milk of human kindness less than during the holiday season. With session about to close, the GOP is trying to bumrush through all the lickspittle legislation that they couldn't get passed during the normal school year. Subsidies for chinchilla farmers? Just tack 'em onto the military appropriation bill and let that boondoggle remora take a free ride to enactmentland. Meanwhile, the Dems are hollering bloody murder because the GOP is trying to enact its agenda instead of, you know, taxing the rich and giving it to the poor, or as they refer to it "Investing in Our Future," because, let's face it, when your looking to invest, you really want to put all of your resources in the non-performers.

What amused me this morning while listening to NPR, however, was the way the parties are throwing around the indignity during the debate on reaffirming the Patriot Act. Both parties were riding the Constitution like a worn-out thoroughbred all the way to the finish line in an impressive show of blowhardedness (the quality whereby legislators say pointless or untrue things in a very sanctimonious way).

Sen. Kerry, in a vain attempt to regain the limelight, first stated that he and his cronies couldn't reaffirm the Patriot Act because of certain violations of the Constitution, in their view. Well, gee, Senator, hasn't this legislation been thoroughly vetted by the U.S. Supreme Court since its passage after 9/11? Think of the money we can save now that the Senate Democrats are the final arbiters of what is or is not constitutional. Hell, we can just go ahead and get rid of the entire U.S. Supreme Court.

Not that the GOP was much better. Sen John Cornyn (TX-R) had the unenviable position of suggesting that civil liberties were unimportant if our lives are threatened by terrorists. Look, I like security as much as the next guy, but even I get a bit nervous when U.S. Senators start suggesting that civil liberties are tradable commodities.

I suppose I shouldn't complaint too much. After last week's ice storm on the East Coast, a little hot air might be welcomed.

And who are you, the Disco Plumber?

2005-12-19T14:34:00.000-08:00

I sometimes miss important events and trends, so I need a question answered -- Is there some sort of hygiene problem associated with plumbers? I mean, are plumbers particularly poor bathers (which would only be the slightest bit ironic, if at all)? Specifically, do they smell worse than other professions or the public at large?

The reason I ask is that I'm driving into work today on I-"KillMeNowBecauseIHaveToCommute8,000MilesADay," when I come up on this somewhat large-ish, nicely painted plumber's truck with this stirring motto painted across the back: "Our Plumbers Don't Smell Bad . . . and They Show Up On Time, Too!"

I don't believe I've ever had a problem with my plumbing (knock on wood), so I've never had to seek the services of a plumber. Is this a problem endemic to the field? If not, couldn't the company come up with a better motto? Because, while I believed that plumbers smelled rather like the general public before I saw the truck, now I have this creeping suspicion that plumbers smell "like a used diaper filled with Indian food."

The implications of the motto aside, aren't there other benefits that plumbers could be touting? I say this because most companies that decide to come up with their own catchy slogan end up celebrating "features" and not "benefits." This is important to everyone, whether you're selling your plumbing services to a jaded public without the benefit of consulting someone who knows a bit more about advertising than, say, an amnesiatic badger, or whether you are selling your soul to a potential employer -- don't focus on features, kick the benefits.

For example, if you were selling a car, don't say, "V-12, 40,060hp" because this is not only random gibberish from people who like cars more than girls, but it is also a feature, not a benefit. The benefit would read, "Is faster than a rocket-propelled weasel" and/or "at top speeds, the wind will peel your eyelids off your skull." Now you're talking to me.

I suppose this would translate the "Our plumbers don't smell" to "One whiff of our plumbers won't melt all of your nostril hair." Still, I think if I was knee deep in raw sewage in my foyer, I wouldn't really care about the whiffiness of my savior. In fact, although I'm not in advertising, I would suggest leaning toward something like, "Will take care of your plumbing problem quickly and cheaply."

OK, that doesn't sing. How about, "Nobody takes care of your shit better than us"?

I'll keep working on it.

Good evening, San Diego. I'm Veronica Corningstone. Tits McGee is on vacation.

2005-12-19T07:18:00.000-08:00

I'll let this press release from UCLA regarding a study done on the political orientation of major news outlets stand on its own merits. A friend of mine thought it amusing that the release characterized the "discovered" liberal bias as "surprising," but I don't think that's what the adjective was meant to convey. What was surprising was that the most liberal of the 20 sources investigated was the news pages of the Wall Street Journal, and that NPR is no more liberal that what is considered the "mainstream" media.

That said, I found the methodology of the study to be innovative. Often such studies are based on some bizarre quantification of what is or is not liberal, conservative, Republican, Democrat, etc. By basing its qualifications on the ADA scores of sitting congressmen, the study is actually using a rough approximation of the standards used by most politicos. Few of those in politics use the writings of Burke or Goldwater or some random political scientist or political commentator to define a person's politics. Usually, they work off a broad understanding of what is or is not conservative, liberal, etc., and they base the rest off where the person stands vis-a-vis the parties or, often, a particular legislator. Don't know where to stand on the Medicare prescription drug benefit? Well, where did Sen. "Red" Ted Kennedy come down? Not sure about a bill touted by the press as "conservative" is any good? See if Sen. Olympia Snowe voted for it. If she did, then you can be sure that the bill isn't worth a cup of warm spit.

Perhaps someone should put together a mondo database using something similar to the ADA or ACU's rankings. That way we could start ranking everything by it's political leanings. We could finally know if Jesse Jackson is to the left of Karl Marx (the answer is, "yes, but he's still to the right of Howard Dean"), or if Feddie is to the right of ~~Ghengis Khan~~ Tomas de Torquemada (the answer is "generally yes, but ~~Ghengis~~ Torquemada was better on capital punishment"). I'm not sure what use such information would be in the long run, but I feel that way about most the information coming out of the news sources in the studied media outlets.

Desperation is a stinky cologne.

2005-12-12T15:00:00.000-08:00

I've been watching the "Tookie" Williams clemency scramble with a detached interest. More of an "Mmmmm" than a "Wow!" or even a "really?" I have a hard time getting worked up about a former gang-affiliated bad guy who's going to take the big sleep for killing four people. (BTW, if you are going to go by the name Tookie in the 'hood, I imagine you pretty much have to look like this.)

What I couldn't seem to figure out is why there are people who are out there spending precious P.R. time fighting this (deservedly) losing fight. OK, so the people are Snoop Dogg and Jamie Foxx, but wouldn't even their time be more of a benefit to humanity if they were doing roadside clean-up. Of course, all of this grandstanding is keeping both the aforementioned from recording new music and/or comedy, so I suppose their is some public good being filled here.

I still don't know what the hell the deal is with saving the Ol' Took (no relation to Peregrin), but I do recognize the tactics being used. The pro-Tookers are basing their whole argument on the following premise: Tookness was a "really bad guy" -- the founder of the Crips (false) -- who has come to realize the error of his ways (false: he still refuses to accept responsibility for his crimes), and who now writes books encouraging the kiddies not to, you know, thug life, and to presumably eat their vegetables. Oh, and I think I heard mention ~~5,000,000 times~~ somewhere that the Tookster was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize (which, I believe, requires a $30 registration fee and proof of Earth citizenship).

This is a redemption story, a bad boy sees the light tale, a morality play dreamed up by people in Hollywood who have no morals, this is, for those of us familiar with little league sports, the Most Improved Player Award. That's right, you remember the MIP -- it was usually reserved for the most dysfunctional player on the team who had no skill whatsoever, yet played with heart. The idea is that we are willing to reward improvement, so perhaps going from "really bad" to "almost human" is enough to save the Tookman from the smell of sulfur and the felling of flames tickling his buttocks for another few years.

I respect the MIP move. I utilized it in college to get one of my few passing grades. In archery. See, on the first day of class, the professor announced that there would be a letter grade bump for the MIP. So, naturally, I tanked the first couple of weeks and then magically improved every week there after until I had scored my MIP. And therein lies the rub. The best way to be a MIP is to REALLY SUCK at the outset and improve to average. This doesn't mean much to you or I, but it makes for an interesting argument for Tooker T. Washington.

So there you go people. If this little scam had worked, the lesson would be clear: if you're going to do a crime, do it BIG so that you can show improvement in the 40-odd years it will take your @#$% death penalty case to come to fruition. Don't just kill your parents, but strangle a few kittens in the process. Maybe beat up a nun. The whole idea is to set a low bar here so that your "improvement" will be impressive. You don't even have to use it exclusively with crime. Every company, church softball team, and surgical team needs an MIP. So aim low.

Hell, it's worked for me over the past 30 years.

How to lose an election without really trying

2005-11-02T13:47:00.000-08:00

If I've said it once, yada-yada-yada: Conservatives who vote for ~~Liberal~~ Moderate Republicans are doing themselves no service. They are allowing Moderates to take their votes for granted because they will always "vote for the best candidate."

It looks like some voters in New Jersey are in a position where they finally understand. Doug Forrester, the "Republican" running for Governor, has been shouting his pro-abortion opinions from the rooftops, and it appears that Conservatives have gotten pissed enough to let him twist in the wind. Congrats to N.J. Conservatives who understand that when a candidate is attempting to "spread his base in the middle" he is really giving Conservatives the finger. If this jackass gets elected, you'll never have another pro-lifer run statewide. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

Holding your virtue cheap

2005-10-31T11:28:00.000-08:00

I know, I know. I've been in absentia for a couple of weeks. Sorry, but life has been dealing me lemons like it used to work blackjack tables in Atlantic City. Translation: I'm busier than hell, and I really don't have time to be writing this.

That said, I can't let this slide. Today was a rather momentous occasion in that this is the first time a solid conservative has been nominated to the Supreme Court since Clarence Thomas back in '91. One month ago, President Bush nominated Harriet Miers to replace Justice O'Connor and the Conservatives on the web (justifiably) went nuts. Since 2000, these stalwarts had been putting up with Bush's public spending and social engineering, and they were willing to hold their collective noses in the anticipation of Bush nominating a Conservative to sit on the SCOTUS. Here's a selection of the angst from one commentator:

I am done with President Bush: Harriet Miers? Are you freakin' kidding me?!

Thanks for nothing, Mr. President.

And what does the president do? He balks at taking on the penumbra lovers on the merits. Disgusting.

So this is how you pay back Federalist Society members for their support, President Bush? You nominate some ABA suckup who is openly hostile to the most important orginization in the legal conservative movement's history?!

Thanks for nothing.

This particular commenter referred to Hugh Hewitt as a "Bush lackey" and gleefully reprinted portions of a George Will column on Oct. 4, 2005 where Will stated:

In addition, the president has forfeited his right to be trusted as a custodian of the Constitution. The forfeiture occurred March 27, 2002, when, in a private act betokening an uneasy conscience, he signed the McCain-Feingold law expanding government regulation of the timing, quantity and content of political speech.

I dare say the reason Miers was forced to withdraw was due to the "uncompromising" stance taken by individuals such as the above commenter over the past month that she was not an acceptable candidate. For the first time, I actually saw Conservatives righteously angry at Bush for selling out the one thing these individuals had bartered their ideology for. And for the first time, the Conservatives acknowledged that Bush was a big-government ideologue, and that his feet would have to be held to the fire in order to get him to do the right thing. So the Right set about to do just that. And, wonder of wonders, it worked! They gave Bush so much pain that he was forced to dump Miers and support a real Conservative nominee. Huzzah!

So what do these Rightwing stalwarts do now? Do they begin marking new areas of Bush's soul to take over? Have they learned what they can do when they rally the Right?

Nope. The commentator who made those rock-hard statements above, now says

Mr. President, all is forgiven. Thank you for doing the right thing. It's good to be back on your side. Let's never ever fight again, o.k.? :).

I've said it a million times, no politician sees the light unless he feels the heat. Why is it that even sitting on the evidence isn't enough to have some people realize that being a lackey is all relative?

Hope it's nice and cozy in y'all's big tent.*

*This was written with nothing but love. The above commenter was not the only individual who jumped back on the Bush Bandwagon this morning after they had FORCED him to do the right thing.

2005-10-31T06:38:00.000-08:00

If you were in a German Scheisse video, you... you'd tell me, wouldn't you?

2005-10-18T08:36:00.000-07:00

I know I've been promising an enlightening post on why Liberal Republicans (or as they call themselves, "Moderates"), but I just haven't had the time to do the issue any real justice. I mean, it's my 95 Theses of Contention, except it is much more important, you know, socio-historically, and, of course, it will never be read by anyone. Not that anyone has read the last 30 or so Theses. Let's face it, they begin to bog down in the 40s. Although my personal fav is good ol' No. 50:

Christians should be taught that, if the pope knew the exactions of the indulgence-preachers, he would rather the church of St. Peter were reduced to ashes than be built with the skin, flesh, and bones of the sheep.

I believe that we can all get behind a theological movement that condemns building churches out of domestic livestock.

That reminds me. Did anybody else ever confuse "Martin Luther" and "Martin Luther King, Jr." when they were very young? Do you still have a picture of MLK, Jr. nailing a parchment to the door of a church in your head? And why are the onlookers all members of Monty Python dressed in period costume? It's just me, isn't it?

Anywho. Like I was saying, I don't have time to write the really important, life-changing stuff, but I never seem to run out of time for producing schlock like this. Why is that?

Funny phone call overheard this weekend:

Voluptuous blond dressed in faux-biker garb sits down at the bar, clearly distraught. She calls her boyfriend (or whatever) on her cell phone and proceeds to tell him a story of how she was just walking down the street, and some guy standing with a gaggle of cops points to her and says, "She's the one who hit my car." She goes on to explain that the accusation was completely false, that she started crying, that the cops were, well, cops, etc. Clearly, the gentleman on the other end of the line is being less than understanding, because she says, "If you loved me, you wouldn't act this way." After things heated up a little bit more, she finally pulled out the money shot. In a very loud voice, she yells into the phone, "I don't need this! I can get bigger [emotional security] than you! A lot bigger [caring and nurturing]!" Thus providing a moment of humor leavened by the realization that the size of a man's [heart] really does matter.

Funny overhearing from last week: My wife was sitting in the airport, when two guys walked by and she heard one guy say, "And they did smell like stripper tits." I miss all the good conversations.

Reclaiming the High Ground: How I Got This Way

2005-10-12T21:23:00.000-07:00

RINOs. Republicans in Name Only. I can't remember when I first heard that acronym. I remember I was in New Hampshire, but actually tracking down the year I was there would require me tracking backwards through the states, the campaigns, and the legislative sessions. Whenever. It was a brilliant idea. It finally allowed Conservatives to pin a tail on the Republican donkeys.

Who are RINOs? Well, generally they are politician who self identify as "Republican," but who are more than willing to ignore the party platform in the name of expediency. They are the ones who, faced with a choice to the right and one to the left will generally take the greater of two evils. They believe in regulation, as long as it's good regulation; who believe that Social Conservatives are, well, extreme; they are those who believe that they can actually legislate answers to problems because they are smart.

Like obscenity, you know them when you see them. For me it all came clear one day sitting in a committee room in one of the House office buildings. I wasn't even supposed to be there. I was a STATE legislative guy, but our congressional lobbyist had a tummy ache, so I had to haul my happy ass over to Ego Central to attend an oversight hearing dealing with the unions. I don't remember much about the hearing other than one exchange. Then-Congressman Snowbarger (R-KS) got into a sniping match with Rep. Bernie Sanders (CCCP-VT). Silly Sanders suggested that he was looking forward to introducing legislation repealing the law that allowed states to pass Right to Work laws.

Not many people pay close attention to Right to Work laws because, well, they're not sexy. They are, however, what I refer to as "bellwether" laws -- laws that separate the Conservatives from the tools of the union bosses. Simply put, Right to Work laws state that no worker can be forced to pay union dues as a condition of employment. What could be more Republican than that???

Anyway, Snowbarger shoots back that he hoped Mr. Sanders would continue to pay homage to the union bosses because it only meant that more business would be fleeing Volvo Country for the freedom of Kansas. This, of course, got old whackjob Sanders all hot an bothered, but to the bored citizen stuck in the uncomfortable committee room seats, it was all good.

It was then that my epiphany took place. Rep. Christopher Shays (~~douche~~ "R"-CT) was chairing the hearing, and he took the opportunity to cut in with his limp-wristed Yankee whine he addressed the assembled masses, and here's what he said:

Ladies and gentlemen, sometimes I think that politicians on each side get a little strident in their views on issues such as this. Our Democratic friends have traditional relationships with the unions, so they tend to see how things affect their union constituents, while the Republicans tend to have developed relationships with business and look at things from that point of view. The answer, I believe, lies in the middle. I will now suck my thumb.

OK, so I am paraphrasing. My first thought was, "Oh my God. This guy actually calls himself a Republican." My second thought was, "Oh my God. I am a Republican! What if people actually think I have something in common with this bowl of cold soup? I will never get a date!" THAT was the moment that I used the beautiful transitive property to do a little math. It looked something like this:

Rep. Shays = GOP; Rep. Shays = Tool; therefore, GOP = Tool. Or at leastSome of the GOP = Tool, and that's enough for me.

This was my tipping point. I went home, called my family and a few friends and came out of the closet -- "I . . . am an Independent." It has gotten much easier to say over the years. Now I just tell people I'm a "flaming Conservative nut." What's funny is I always get the same response from people who know me, but don't know my politics: "No you're not! You're very rational." Ah, but it's all a ruse.

Of course, that still doesn't explaing why RINOs are evil, does it? Wow, this is getting to be like LOST -- a lot of story, but there don't appear to be any answers. Those must me . . . later.

Hey, you hear that? Sounds like a giraffe's dying over there!

2005-10-12T21:21:00.000-07:00

Whatever you can say about Gerhard Schroeder, he has balls the size of Volkswagens. He was the leader of anti-U.S. sentiment abroad, lashing out at Bush at every occasion at the start of the war. Now, a year later, Bush has been reelected and Schroeder is stepping down after having his sizeable balls served to him in the recent German election. So what does he do? He uses the announcement that he is stepping down to lash out at Bush! Sure, Gerry, Bush is the one whose views have been marginalized. Enjoy retirement secure that you are only the second worst German leader ever.

In other news: I can't help but wonder how this rocket scientist is spinning the earthquake in Pakistan.

The theater's too deep for me. I prefer bicycling.

2005-10-12T10:46:00.000-07:00

Lately, I've been up to my gizzard in work, leaving me only the evenings to post (except for short, pointless postings such as this, which are done at my desk while I shovel a toasted tuna sandwich in my mouth).

Last night, I had every intention of continuing my ~~insightful~~ inciting series of posts on the need for Conservatives to rethink political strategy, but instead I decided to watch Grand Illusion. After once again viewing this masterpiece, I can say that we are both better people for my dereliction. If you have not seen this classic, I encourage you to do so. This is the foremost film displaying "man's humanity to man." Rightwingnut that I am, I can't help but be impressed with the anti-war vision of the director, Jean Renoir, son of the painter. Even more interesting, is the story of how the movie was lost following the Nazi purges during WWII and thankfully found decades later. Give it a shot -- it's better than reading this pablum.

"If I had to save only one film in the world, it would be Grand Illusion." Orson Welles

Reclaiming the High Ground: The Primary Problem

2005-10-11T07:51:00.000-07:00

I've been involved in elections since I was 14 years old, and on a grassroots level, there's not much I haven't done. I spent much of my time running state legislative campaigns all over the country. Unlike most campaign guys, I had the luxury, sometimes, of choosing and even recruiting my own candidates. I rarely worked for incumbents. Instead I focused my attention on taking out so-called "moderate" GOP legislators in the primaries, and, if successful, worked my candidates through the general election.

I know what you're thinking: Why waste your time on taking out Republicans when there are so many evil Democrats out there? The answer is a bit complex.

First, if you, dear reader, are not a Conservative (or perhaps an especially perceptive Liberal) this will all make little sense. Politics is the most human of arts. It is about manipulating masses of individuals to perform a brief, yet intimate, action on your behalf. It is a numbers game, and it is one that everyone, no matter what their level of experience, believes they understand intimately. What these people don't realize is that politics is generally counterintuitive. This is because most people, consciously or unconsciously, believe that people are good.

Thinking Conservatives understand this isn't true. Otherwise, how do you explain the Federal Income Tax System or the DMV? Unfortunately, few Conservatives are willing to take the mental leaps necessary to extrapolate human action to elections. They don't acknowledge that, at their base, people are utilitarian. They only perform actions that they perceive to be in their best interest. The key is finding what that interest is -- and I have found that, more often than not, there are plenty of conservative principles that appeal to most people's interests. The problem is getting that message to the voter.

In elections, politics is often easy because you are playing to the lowest common denominator. You just need 50% + 1 to win (generally). You know that the overwhelming majority of people are locked into a preference -- be it R or D. The biggest determinate of which lever people pull is . . . what lever their parents pulled. That's right. Most votes in any given election were sewn up 30+ years ago. A candidate will win or lose at the margins. The key, then, is working those margins and getting your people (those whose parents voted for your party, if you will) to get their asses off the couch and go to the polls.

This, as any good political hack will tell you, takes time, money, and/or talent. That is, effort, cash, and/or volunteers. Beyond that, well, I'll keep some secrets. . .

The second thing most Conservatives don't understand -- one they need to come to grips with -- is that their enemy isn't Democrats. Oh, sure, Democrats are evil and generally stupid, but, hey, they're Democrats. Why on earth would I wander into a district where a majority of people's parents voted Democrat and run a GOP candidate when I can go over to the next district where there is a sitting "Republican" who votes 80% of the time with the Democrat, and knock the bastard off with a good Republican? I know the latter district will elect a Republican, so why not a good one?

If you're Conservative, your enemy is "moderate" Republicans. They're sitting in your seats and they are selling you out DAILY by siding with the Dems on nearly everything you hate: taxes, regulations, social engineering, etc.

"But, Centinel," the apologists say, "those seats are occupied with the best Republican we could find in the primary. Better to have someone in office who votes with us 20% of the time than never." There are a million reasons why this is crap, but the most important is what I like to call "The self-fulfilling prophecy of Liberal Republicans." I was working some state races in a mountain state about a decade ago, and got a lot of feedback from supporters across my districts where liberal Republicans were running against Conservatives. The main argument I was hearing from the Libs was that a Conservative couldn't win the district because the people would support the Conservative during the general election. And you know what? They were right! Whenever a Liberal Republican won a primary, s/he would win the general election, but Conservative primary victors seemed to be losing general elections. You know why? Simple, it was because, if a Conservative won, all of the Liberals would stay home -- or vote for the Dem. I'm not talking about casual "independent" voters -- I'm talking about campaign volunteers for the losing Libs. And they weren't shy about talking about it. The Conservative primary winners, on the other hand, were scared to be divisive, so they tended to tone down their rhetoric as soon as the primary was over, and generally got more milquetoast as time when on, denying the voters an opportunity to hear true conservative ideas.

What did Conservative voters do in the general election? What the idiots always do -- support whoever has an "R" beside their name because "s/he's better than the Dem." With Conservative support, these "moderates" would cruise to victory. Thus, begins the myth that you have to nominate Liberal Republicans to win in certain districts.

The idea that Conservatives can't be competitive is nothing more than a lie. Ronald Reagan beat Carter and Mondale in districts all across the country by proudly standing tall and running as a Conservative. Hell, Jesse Helms did it for decades in North Carolina, and I've seen state legislative candidates win competitive districts by talking about Conservative issues that resonate with voters. If a "moderate" Republican is sitting in a seat, it is not because he was the best the district could do, it's because for some reason -- be it lack of a candidate, poor timing, bad strategy -- the Conservatives failed to successfully engage their enemy at the primary level.

Why are so-called "Moderates" the enemy? I'll be happy to address that. Later.

History teaches us that we learn nothing from history.

2005-10-10T01:55:00.000-07:00

A bit of housekeeping.

Stephan Dillard, one of the brighter minds and most solid citizens on the internets, did his own "10 Minutes with NPR" this weekend. Of course, whereas mine consists of sitting in my car listening to people with soothing voices and perfect diction tell me what to think of today's news, Mr. Dillard actually got his dulcet drawl on the show to discuss the Miers's nomination and blogging. There is much iron in his words. Have a listen -- it don't cost nothing.

Word of warning: If you are interested in buying some sort of portable Multimedia device, I suggest you steer clear of the RCA Lyra RD2780. I've had one for about a year and a half now, and while it is very cool in concept, it's reality is severely impaired by the crappy batteries they put in the thing. The storage capacity of said batteries was well below advertised when I first got the thing and they have steadily declined to where they are roughly equivalent to those generic D-cells that come with cheap plastic flashlights. Only being able to watch 30 minutes of a movie before the thing craps out is simply unacceptable. Once again, my theory holds solid that any device that combines two or more actions that are traditionally performed by separate products will do neither well. Buy an iPod and a portable DVD player and save yourself the irritation.

Useless wedding advice: No matter how large your breasts are, don't blatantly hit on a married member of the wedding party during the reception. Especially when his wife is there. It's also poor form to refer to her as "butch" and claim you don't see what her husband sees in her. Everyone will know about it in approximately 5.5 minutes, and they will all hate you and want you to die. Soon. Painfully.

Also, don't walk up to the most urbane, intelligent, and handsome man in attendance and pretend to lick his face from chin to forehead while ~~I am~~ he is talking to the father of the bride. It makes it really difficult to focus on the conversation.

Random observations: Single people can outdrink and outlast married people. I am the apparent exception to this rule.
Rented tuxes never fit properly.
A couple of shots of Jack Daniel's taken immediately prior to a wedding make the service go faster.
People are as confused by paradoxes as they are by irony.

Somehow "I told you so" just doesn't quite say it.

2005-10-06T14:04:00.000-07:00

This blog originally started as an extension from a debate going on over at Southern Appeal. The time was the heady days of Election 2004, for those of you old enough to remember last year, and the issue was whether or not Conservatives should hold their noses and vote for George Bush, despite his numerous political infidelities.

At the time, the only argument that the "Vote Bush"-side ("suckers") could muster was that we had to have Bush because he would nominate conservative judges. Now, a bit of clarification is no doubt due. While having solid, conservative judges at the district and circuit court level is of untold importance, what these supporters were pushing was much sexier than that. Seeing an aging O'Connor, Ginsburg, and Stevens, these individuals argued that Bush might have the opportunity to replace one or, dare we dream, even two of those pillars of liberal jurisprudence. So tantalizing was the meager prospect of actually having a majority of justices who actually believed the Constitution means what it says, that they allowed themselves to fall into the arms of a president who, in many respects, appeared to be governing to the left of the Clinton Administration.

Try as I might, I could not get Bush's political supporters to get past their "Lesser of 2 Evils" mantra. Using my masterful MS Paint skills (much better than bowhunting skills), I have diagramed their political beliefs:

I was not one of these people, you see. After years of working in politics I had come to understand the animal known as the Politician (Characterus absentia). This animal only covets one thing: Power; it only has one desire: To win the next election. Evolution has equipped this animal with a brilliant ability to camouflage itself by adopting positions that will aid its electoral quest. Ever concerned for its safety, the Politician will not do the right thing if it means taking a chance. That's why they have to be trained. If, let's say, you are a pro-gun group and a particular Politician votes in favor of some gun restriction, you need to rub his nose in it while firmly spanking him. This may require the group to, say, drop 20,000 pieces of mail to pro-gun voters in the Politician's district informing them of his indiscretion. Ultimately, if you are going to train a Republican to be a good pet and legislator, you must make him or her realize that you can always toss them out. The minute you give up that punishment -- the only real threat you have -- the Politician will walk all over you.

Why? Because s/he knows the calculus. If you won't punish them, why should they cater to you? Why not cater to those to the left of middle, instead? Why not receive more favorable press in the NY Times and Washington Post? As long as they are some degree to the right of the Democrat candidate, they know they can count on Conservative support. All they have to do is throw the base a bone every now and then. Now who's the pet?

For this reason, it is vital that Conservative voters have what more creative minds than mine have come to call a "tipping point" or a point where you say, "That's it, I don't care if Ted Kennedy wins this seat, I'm not voting for another squishy, spineless Republican." By nailing the "moderate" Republicanss skins over the door, you are sending a message to all future Republican politicians that, should you grow in office or seek to grab votes on the left at the expense of the Conservative base, you too will be put down.

(Continued below)

2005-10-06T14:02:00.000-07:00

Unfortunately, too many of my Conservative friends laughed at my concerns, showing that their on tipping point was much more lenient than mine. As a result, "Big ~~Tent~~ Government Republicanism" held the day in November, giving Bush another four years to convince Americans that the only difference between Republicans and Democrats is that Republicans invade countries where people actually have guns, as opposed to Democrats who would much rather invade places like Somalia where 5 guys with handguns can kill, like, 2,000 vicious thugs. With Conservative support, Bush has had a chance to cement his legacy by expanding government to new heights. Or widths.

While most Americans are comforted by the thought that, no matter who they voted for, it didn't matter politically, Conservatives held their collective breaths in anticipation for the first open seat. And the winner is: Sandra Day O'Connor! Tell the folks what they've won, Gene! Well, Bob, America has won a Justice who, unlike his or her predecessor, will have a strong commitment to textualist principles! Say "bye-bye" to Roe, Bob!

And then Rehnquist died, and then we got Roberts, who, much like that really "straight" girl in college, might make a great life partner but ain't going to get anyone too hot under the collar. But, damnit, at least he ain't a Souter!

So here, finally, was that bright, shining moment that Conservatives have been anticipating for over a generation. After years of smarting from Blackmon, Souter, and other Boomerang Justices -- after decades of blood, sweat, tears and sacrifice -- we finally had an opportunity to put a majority of Solid Conservatives on the United States Supreme Court. Cue angelic trumpets.

Oooops. Fumble in the endzone.

So what do we do now? There's a lot of Conservatives out there with egg on their faces. I would find some comfort in saying "I told you so," but this government affects me as much as anyone else.

In fact, I think something positive may be coming out of the Miers nomination. For the first time in my political memory I'm actually seeing Conservatives say, "No more." I think that this screwup may have been a big enough to actually cause the "my party, wrong or right" crowd to finally decide enough is enough. Even my father, diehard GOP supporter that he is, has stated that he doesn't think he would vote for Bush again.

And that is the answer, boys and girls. If you want change, sometimes you have to be willing to do nothing for it. In the face of the overwhelming urge to say, "I know this Politician sucks, but he's better than the other guys, so I'm going to donate $500 dollars to his campaign and vote for him," you have to have the courage to fight back and just sit on your couch. If the most conservative 5% of this country would just take an election off, I guarantee that they'll hear a different tune from Republicans during the next election.

Sometimes, to make an omelet, you have to break a few eggs. Still, it's better than getting them on your face.

Addendum: Welcome Confirmers and Southern Appealers (Appellants?). I'm working on a piece on the "fight it out in the primary" issue.

Strange times call for strange solutions.

I repeat, this is not a drill. This is the apocalypse.

2005-10-05T15:07:00.000-07:00

Little children, it is the last time: and as ye have heard that antichrist shall come, even now are there many antichrists; whereby we know that it is the last time.

I John 2:18

If you ever reach total enlightenment while drinking beer, I bet it makes beer shoot out your nose.

2005-10-04T11:57:00.000-07:00

Friday night. I'm sitting on a barstool playing Word Dojo on the game machine. Word Dojo is a game where there are a bunch of balls with random letters on them and you have to hit connecting balls to form words. The more words, the higher your score. I'm mediocre at the game, but I can rock many of the other games on the system.

So, like I said, I'm sitting there, playing Word Dojo when this attractive red head sidles up next to me and says, "Centinel is damn near unbeatable on this thing." I reply, "Yeah, I saw he has some high scores." "Yeah," she says, "you pretty much have to team up with someone else to beat him." And away she walks.

It's not like I just won the Triple Crown, but the little scene was slightly amusing. Or so I thought. I finish my game at about 550,000 points. Not bad, but not great. The red head walks back up and challenges me to a game. As I had to use the little conservatives' room, I told her she could play my quarter. I come back a few minutes later and find her little hands flying all over the damn machine. The chick was a total ringer trying to sucker me into playing her. Not only does she beat me, but she DOUBLES my score. This guy leans over, her and says, "Oh, man, you're never going to get her off this game -- she's addicted." I do a doubletake and realize that the guy is the guitarist for Drowning Pool (who, incidentally, is one cool guy).

So I got my ass kicked on a word game by a heavy metal guitarist's girlfriend. Weak.

Saturday night. Same bar, different stool, joined by my wife. I'm talking to my wife when I hear the bartender say, "Don't make me come over this bar." This is one of those lines that tends to cut through the general buzz of conversation -- a red flag, if you will. The bartender is talking to some guy and girl standing behind me. The guy laughs and they both head for the door -- and here comes the bartender over the bar.

He follows them outside. A couple of minutes later I stick my head out on the street. There is a police van parked blocking the side street next to the bar. Two cops are jawing with the guy who walked out, while the bartender is standing to the side. Next thing I know, they've got the guy and the girl in cuffs and are loading them onto the van.

Here's what happened: Genius boy and his girl come into the bar. There is a sign on the door that clearly states that the restrooms are for customers only. The chick heads back for the restrooms and the bartender asks the guy what he wants. The guy says "nothing," and the bartender tells him he has to buy something to use the restroom. The moron says that the girl has the money. When she comes out, he heads for the door. Which is where I came in.

Here's a tip. If you are breaking your parole by leaving the state, and if you are very stoned, don't do stupid things to call attention to yourself, like walk on a tab. You may walk outside straight into the waiting arms of the local law enforcement officials who might just run your little name through their databases, and you could find yourself heading to jail for public intoxication and breaking parole.

All for the cost of a beer.

A Day Late and a Dollar Short

2005-10-03T14:05:00.000-07:00

My favorite candidate for the SCOTUS?

JUDGE PRISCILLA OWEN
U.S. Court of Appeals, Fifth Circuit, appointed by
G.W. Bush, 50 years old
Filibustered by Senate Democrats when nominated to
the federal bench, Owen is a former Texas
Supreme Court judge regarded as "far right
wing" by liberals. But who isn't! A
member of the Federalist Society. (Psycho
music) Sen. Reid has already said he would
filibuster her nomination to SCOTUS.

New World Man presents: My favorite candidate for the Supreme Court
brought to you by Quizilla

Look, while I would love Judge Owen to be the nominee, it's no secret who my choice was.

$.02

2005-10-03T00:58:00.000-07:00

Last week, I predicted to my acquaintances that Miers would be nominated. No, I don't have the President's ear, or even his nostril, but I'm starting to figure the guy out. Here's the clues:

He dropped comments about wanting diversity, so I thought the nominee would likely not be a white male.

The Administration was floating the Miers balloon last Friday. They had floated Edith Jones and faked to Roberts, and I thought they would likely do the opposite this time.

Miers was the only one on the "short list" with practically no legal record, and I suspected that the Administration doesn't have the stomach for a battle on the issues; and

Bush is insanely loyal to those around him, and Miers is very high on that list.

I could have easily been wrong, but my instinct turned out to be right this time.

How do I feel about it? Like most movement conservatives I'm disappointed. I have friends who are fairly close the Miers, and they think she hung the moon, professionally speaking. Unlike some, I'm not at all concerned about her "intellectual gravitas" because I don't believe you have to be a rocket scientist to be a solid justice. I am impressed with her diverse and groundbreaking background. A friend of mine reminded me recently that when Miers got done clerking after law school, she was offered two jobs in Dallas -- both of them as a secretary -- and yet she managed to become the President's lawyer (and maybe even a member of the highest court in the land). I'm not worried about her competency or lack of judicial experience.

Like most Conservatives, what worries me most is how little I do know. We are only too familiar with how a similar gambit made fifteen years ago paid off. The last thing we wanted was to be placed in a similar situation. Yet here we are. Is Miers another Boomerang Justice? I don't know -- and that's just not good enough.

One of the bigger fights on the Right during the last election was the question of whether Conservatives should hold their noses and vote for Bush despite his "Big Government" Republicanism. Time after time I heard the same argument: We have to support Bush because of the Supreme Court nominations. Like children suffering the pains of being "good" the month before Christmas so as not to make Santa's "bad" list, Conservatives dutifully supported Bush and the GOP in 2004 and went to sleep the night after the election with visions of sugar plums -- looking suspiciously like Thomas and Scalia -- dancing in their heads.

Unfortunately, we did not find a shiny bike underneath our tree. Instead, there's a big, brown box sitting there. A box that is likely filled with coal.

I'm certainly not the first person to point out what really bothers Conservatives here. We have been waiting for several administrations for this moment. We have put up with mediocre presidents (Bush I & II), increased public spending, poor economic planning, and no commitment to conservative principles for one golden shining moment: conservative Supreme Court nominees. We are young girls who have bartered our virtue for a shiny coin, and now the coin turns out to be a wooden nickel with a big "F U" printed on the side.

Is it any wonder why so many of us are pissed? We only asked the Bush Administration for ONE thing, and he couldn't even do that correctly. I suppose I'd be beside myself if I actually were surprised by any of this. Fortunately, I gave up on the GOP long ago, and have abandoned any hope that conservative principles will be pushed on any front.

The only hope we have is that Bush knows something we don't. He may very well know that Miers is a committed rightwinger who dreams of a return to originalist principles. The problem is that we could have had a nominee who we knew though his or her past judicial record would be this person, and not someone who remains an unknown quantity.

If anything, Bush has not helped the GOP today. What should have been an easy bone tossed to the Right has turned into a rock upside the head. While he will never face an electorate without conservative support, his potential successor might not be so lucky.

Addendum: Wow. Even the rats are packing their bags for port.

Do you know where there are any personages of historical significance around here?

2005-09-27T13:04:00.000-07:00

Sitting on 14 straight. Unmatched. Ever. Here's to the Best in the Biz.

Every American child should grow up knowing a second language, preferably English.

2005-09-27T11:14:00.000-07:00

Alex Whitlock has a thoughtful post up regarding the relative dearth of bilingual speakers in the U.S. as compared to Europe. Roughly 50% of Europeans claim to be proficient in a second language as opposed to 9% in the U.S.

The numbers don't surprise me. It's only natural that Europe has a higher level of bilingualism for at least two reasons. First, English is the lingua franca (I kill myself) of business and diplomacy in the world -- it took over the top spot from French over the past century. Much of that is a result of U.S. cultural, military, and economic hegemony and to the imperialism of the British Empire. When Arabs protest in Arab countries, you'll notice that their signs aren't written in Swedish. The simple fact is that, while there are a number of particularly "useful" languages to know, English has the highest utilitarian benefit. An Italian who knows English has acquired a useful skill; and American who has mastered Italian can watch Fellini films without the subtitles.

The second reason for the gap is what I'll call "peer proximity." Europe is a tight, small conglomeration of people and states on relatively equal economic and cultural footing. It is only natural that those living in one state would learn the language of their neighboring country. I was raised in North Carolina, and if the dominant language of Virginia had been German then I would have been much more inspired to get a working knowledge of the language. But Centinel, you may say, you live in Texas and that's next door to Mexico, how come you can't habla the Espanol? That is the "peer" part of "peer proximity." Rightly or wrongly, it's clear that Texans don't view Mexico as a peer state. This isn't a big surprise when you consider that thousands of Mexicans sneak into Texas every year to perform menial jobs. Why should a Texan learn Spanish? To give clearer instructions to their gardeners? No, the unspoken opinion is that it is the responsibility of those native Spanish speakers to learn English, not the other way around.

That said, I actually feel that schools spend too much time on foreign languages. I took 4 years of Spanish -- that's over 700 hours of instruction -- and I know just enough Spanish to order at Taco Bell. What a waste! If my parents had forced me to spend an hour a day taking piano, I probably would be a concert pianist. I'd be a black belt in a martial art with 700 hours of class time. Damn. Either would have actually come in handy on occasion. Instead, I was forced to spend an hour a day learning to conjugate verbs just long enough to pass the next test. HayZues, I'm not even sure I knew anyone fluent in Spanish when I was in high school who didn't teach the class.

I think that mandatory foreign language at the high school level is a waste of time. If a kid doesn't know much of a foreign language by the time he's 15, he ain't gonna learn it staring at the sombrero and maracas hanging on the activity board in Ms. Hacklemeyer's Spanish class. The key is to teach children young, when their brains are absorbing information, and then to make sure they don't get rusty by occasionally immersing them in the culture where the language is native. I have friends who have their children attend pre-kindergarten where they are taught foreign languages. The little monkeys suck it up like oreo cookies.*

Me, I've promised my longsuffering mother, who believes in bilingualism, that I will begin working on another language when I master this one. That is, not any time soon.

* Foreign language trivia of the day: "oreo" means "hill" in Greek. The cookies are thus named because they were originally mound-shaped.

Combined primary economics was a bottle about this big.

2005-09-26T11:20:00.000-07:00

I wrote all of my college papers on a typewriter. That's right. I could have used one of those monochrome-monitored, 64K supercomputers, but I didn't take to those fancy new-fangled contraptions.

Fast forward a few years, and my friggin' life revolves around the internets. I do my shopping, communicating, and entertaining through the internets. Hell, I even get my phone service through the internet as of last week. And with the help of my wireless router, I can access ~~porn~~ information anywhere in my house.

Yep, I am king of the information superhighway.

Unless, say, a hurricane sends gusty winds my way that somehow knock out my cable. Then, I'm like that monkey in 2001: A Space Odyssey, pre-bone. That's what my weekend looked like. No cable, no internets, no phone. No information about Rita, no email access, no late-night movies on HBO Zone about a young lady who raises money for college by starting a topless car wash.

And you know what, it was a hell of a productive weekend. I did a lot of work in the yard, got my grill up and running, did all of our laundry, and even got some research done on a case I'm working on (lucky I had printed out all the cases).

I got to get the @#$% cable fixed.

And eleven long-haired friends of Jesus in a chartreusse microbus.

2005-09-23T12:21:00.000-07:00

Fitz and E. Spat have both written with their usual flair of the scariest thing they've ever seen whilst driving. Actually, the original challenge was to describe the scariest thing to see someone doing while you're driving next to them on the freeway. That's a nobrainer for me: "Semi coming over into my lane" will win every time. Few things are more urine producing than seeing a 18-wheeled behemoth moving over on you and realize that you, in your car or truck, are really, really small and, apparently, invisible.

I used to live off one of the most truck-filled interstates in the country. It wasn't uncommon to have lines of 10-12 big rigs rolling along like something out of Convoy. Nor was it uncommon to see the results of a semi plowing a car. Not pretty. Not really even identifiable.

Expanding the question to encompass everything I've seen a jackass do on the road, I would have to give the Emmy for Best Special Effect Done by a Clearly Special Driver to a trucker who decided to completely flip his truck along with it's attached trailer. I was heading north on the Indian Turnpike heading towards Tulsa, Oklahoma, when up ahead I see this semi run it's right wheels into a ditch on the side of the road while moving at about 60 mph.

What happened next all went in slow motion. The driver managed to pop the cab out of the ditch and back on level ground, but the flatbed decided to hold its ground. This resulted in the cab skidding sideways and jacknifed the entire truck out of the ditch to where it was sliding down the southbound lanes with the top of the truck coming toward me. Now, I was about 300 yards away when this all started, so I got a first hand look at this thing moving sideways down the street like something out of Speed. The semi settled blocking all lanes.

Me and the guy in the pickup in front of me jumped out and ran over to find that the front windshield had popped out of the cab and was laying on the ground completely undamaged. The same could not be said for the 350 lb. trucker, who was crumpled sideways against the passenger door, which was now on the ground, and was bleeding from a gash in the head.

Fortunately, the trucker was lucid, and he told us about his little mistake. It seems that the genius had thought there was a truck stop at the exit about 100 yards down the road. He was pulling off on the underpass, when he realized that there wasn't anything on this exit but dry grass and dirt. Instead of driving down the underpass, crossing the road, and coming back up the other side, Richard Petty decided to try to yank the truck back on the interstate and ended up with his right wheels in the ditch.

To make matters worse, he wasn't wearing a seatbelt at the time, so when the cab flipped, his sizeable ass slammed downward into the passenger door, cracking his head against the corner-mounted metal fan in the process. Now he was wedged in the passenger seat with a bloody head and possible broken ribs.

As we were out in the middle of nowhere, it took nearly 15 minutes for the ambulance to arrive. It's lucky me and the other guy stayed, because it took us, the two EMTs, and two cops to remove the fat-ass Teamster from his chariot and deposit him in the ambulance. I'll never forget us walking across that pristine, untouched windshield and listening to it crack under our feet.

Cocaine isn't habit forming. I should know - I've been using it for years.

2005-09-22T16:26:00.000-07:00

The British Press is reporting that several companies have dropped "super"model Kate Moss after pictures were published showing her doing copious amounts of cocaine. Prestigious fashion names such as Burburry and Channel are shocked, SHOCKED! that Ms. Moss would use cocaine. I mean, who could look at the following and suspect drug use:

She's is a professional m-o-d-e-l.

She weighs 23 pounds, which I think translates to like 1.458389 stone, or something.

Her boyfriend is a m-u-s-c-i-a-n.

She loves lesbian threesomes (not that there's anything wrong with that).

She gets paid more to walk across a room, that you and I will earn this year.

She has been hospitalized for "exhaustion," which is media speak for "I've done so many illicit substances that I can see through my eyelids."

She has being diagnosed with "sleeping disorder," which is no surprise considering that she stays out all night partying when she should be sleeping.

Actually, I'm surprised that doing coke is still considered "bad" enough for the industry to care. Hell, isn't coke legal in Belgium? Wasn't this the same week that some jackass television host in Amsterdam plans on shooting heroin on the air?

What came as no surprise is how quickly all of the industries supporters and stars rushed to defend Moss, stating that her private life shouldn't interfere with her public life (as if Company X isn't going to fire Joe Sixpack if they find out he's snorting up on the weekends), or whining that this is somehow the media's fault for "persecuting" her. Some Icelandic fashion designer said, "It's really unfair. She may be a product but she's a human being, too. The media are responsible for her loss of success or work." Proving only that Bjork is the second biggest freak to come out of Iceland.

Give be a Value-Sized break. Leave it to the rich and famous to discourage personal responsibility.

People are getting smarter nowadays; they are letting lawyers, instead of their conscience, be their guide.

2005-09-22T08:53:00.000-07:00

Last week I worked a few hours manning the desk at the legal services table down at "refugee central" -- otherwise known as the Dallas Convention Center. It was an excellent opportunity to find out what lawyers really mean to people. Here are some of the things I learned:

If you're going to blow off a simple ticket from some town you're just visiting, make sure you never have to live there.

If you own a small business, don't let your son redo your standard contracts just because he had a semester of business law down at the community college. You just may need that force majeure clause one day.

If you are have problems getting benefits sorted out with the woman you've lived with for 10 years, common law marriage is mighty damn convenient. Besides, who hasn't wanted to say, "This is my common-law wife, Shaundra."

Having your insurance company offer to pay off your mortgage is a dubious benefit if your house is now a wet pile of lumber.

If you are going to take off to another state with your children, it's probably a good idea to let your ex- know -- especially if you have joint custody. It's also important to inform the court.

That being said, my thoughts and prayers are with the folks down Galvaston/Houston way. Hope you're heading north with all due speed.

Madness in great ones must not unwatched go.

2005-09-21T09:17:00.000-07:00

I meant to write about this the other day, but was just too busy. Hey, what do you want? I'm not the New York Times.

I didn't hear much of the Roberts confirmation hearings, mostly because I kept yelling at the radio when I was listening and realized I was going to have a wreck if I heard Ted Kennedy or Arlen Specter say one more inane thing. I did, however, spot a couple of things in the few minutes I did listen that made me want to slap Arlen Specter even more than usual.

Sen. Specter stated that the Morrison case dealt with three VMI (Virginia Military Institute) students raping a girl. Although I'm sure Sen. Specter would like to believe those allegedly responsible came from that one-time all-male bastion, they were actually Virginia Tech students. Everyone knows that VMI students prefer to rape Duke's mascot.

Specter made the following statement concerning a case where the Supreme Court held that state public entities could not be sued for money damages under Title II of the ADA:

And in the Garrett case, the Supreme Court of the United States used a doctrine which had been in vogue only since 1997 in the Boerne case. You and I discussed this in my office. They came up with the standard of what is congruent and proportionate; congruence and proportionality.

I was interested in your statement, when we talked informally, that you didn't find those in the Fourteenth Amendment. I didn't either.

Now they plucked congruence and proportionately right out of thin air. And when Scalia dissented, he said that the congruence and proportionality test was a, quote, flabby test, which is a, quote, invitation to judicial arbitrariness by policy-driven decision- making.

Now, you said yesterday that you did not think that there was judicial activism when the court overruled an act of Congress. Isn't this congruence and proportionality test, which comes out of thin air, a classic example of judicial activism where the view of congruence -- hard to find a definition for congruence; proportionality, hard to find a definition for proportionality -- I've searched and can't find any. Isn't that the very essence of what is in the eye of the beholder, where the court take carte blanche to declare acts of Congress unconstitutional?

Compare this bold statement on judicial activism and words not in the Constitution to one made last year by Andrew C. McCarthy in National Review:

The Constitution says not a word about abortion. Though the practice has existed for centuries, we had somehow lived through 186 years of constitutional governance without its being noticed that the document guaranteed a right to terminate pregnancies. This latent discovery in 1973 was preeminently about lawyers and words. In this instance, it was about the fecund potential of the Fourteenth Amendment's promise of liberty, glossed by a developing line of cases incubating a parallel right to privacy -- a similarly malleable concept, different from liberty in that lawyers had had to derive it from Constitution's glowing penumbra, the term being absent from the actual document.

Practically speaking, in the adroit hands of the nation's best lawyers, terms such as "liberty" and "privacy" are boundless -- and, lest we forget, the Constitution, to say nothing of its many penumbras, ellipses and lacunae, contains many such words. The upshot is this: The more those words can be stretched, the more forbidding a fortress they become around life's disputes, and the less remains for the American people to determine for themselves. Instead of the masters of our fate, we become the subjects of those empowered to say what the words mean: the judges.

In case you didn't see this coming, the second quote was taken from an article about Sen. Specter's support of abortion. This is the two-faced joker the GOP's allowed to lead the charge in confirming our judges. Great.

When Specter got done with his little spiel about the danger of vague and unfounded standards, I was just holding my breath waiting for Roberts to go, "You know, Senator, that is a persuasive argument for repealing Roe v. Wade" and watch Specter choke on his wattle. I guess I have to settle for Roberts little crack that Specter's worship of stare decisis would mean that Dred Scott would still be the law of land.

P.S. - Note that Scalia is consistent in his logic on both the above issues.

My Commute with : New City, Jack

2005-09-20T07:50:00.000-07:00

This week, Morning Edition is running a series of reports on the future of New Orleans. Yesterday, they spoke to Michael Olivier, Louisiana's Secretary for Economic Development, who described his vision of New Orleans as a smaller city filled with green spaces that would serve as both an inviting locale and protection from flooding. Today, the guest was Bill Roberti, chief turnaround officer for the crisis management firm that was advising New Orleans woeful school system before Katrina struck.

Although we are only two days into the series, by reading between the lines you can hear what we can expect as federal money comes flooding back into New Orleans. First, the only money-making areas of town, the French Quarter and the central business district, are likely the only ones that will survive relatively unchanged. The overwhelming majority of the rest of the town sustained heavy flood damage and will likely have to be condemned and leveled, if only because vacant buildings will have and adverse impact on any city planning. As most commenters have noticed, the poorer areas of town were the lowest and therefore took the most flood damaged.

What it seems few people are acknowledging is that New Orleans no longer exists -- at least as it was known. The head is salvageable, but the body is gone. It's no secret that New Orleans was a poor city by U.S. standards, filled with a good share of urban blight, as it used to be called. The houses and buildings that have sustained major flood damage -- a majority of New Orleans -- will be leveled, and the "slums" will be the first to go. Estimate show that 150,000 homes were totaled. Huge swathes of what was little more than tenement housing will be bulldozed to the ground.

This is the dirty little secret that the planners on NPR skirt but refuse to acknowledge. The hundreds of thousands of poor -- those who were a net drain on the system -- are gone. They are scattered across the region and, indeed, the country. These poor, who where driving New Orleans schools and other public services into the ground, will be forced to spend months in their new host cities -- be they Houston, Dallas, Atlanta, or Boston. Thousands will accept the free rent. services, and superior job opportunities offered by their new, thriving host cities and will likely be better off in six months than they were when they left New Orleans. Will these people return when New Orleans dries out? What would they return to? A city where there is no available housing and where the threat of future flooding remains?

If those interviewed by NPR appear to be suppressing their excitement, and they do, it is because they are. They know that the next likely flood into New Orleans will be of federal money and insurance payoffs. They are only too aware that this is their opportunity create the city they always wanted, a city with both a historic side that draws in tourists by the millions, yet also a modern city free of slums and high concentrations of poor. It's a cinch that any investment money flowing into the region will not be used to create Section Eight housing. As Olivier is dreaming, where rundown neighborhoods once existed, there will now be "green spaces," created and cultivated in the name of flood protection. Gentrifying areas will get facelifts. Businesses will rebuild better than before.

Katrina has given New Orleans an unprecedented opportunity. In all likelihood it will go from one of the poorest cities in the country with a history of corruption and violence, to the most modern city in the country with an accompanying huge demographic change.

Interestingly, I do not believe that this transformation will come at a great long-term cost to the poor. There is no doubt that they sustained short-term losses and that they will experience several months of tumult and confusion. However, many have relocated to areas with stronger economies and better job markets than New Orleans. Polls already show that half of the evacuees have no intention of returning to New Orleans -- a number that will no doubt rise as time passes and the dispossessed get jobs, put their kids in schools, and become absorbed into their new homes.

So, say hello to the "new" New Orleans. It's smaller, newer, richer, whiter, and greener than the "old" New Orleans. Unfortunately, it's no higher.

He tells people he's named after a gun, but I know he's named after a famous 19th century ballet dancer.

2005-09-19T12:36:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting in the bar on Saturday after catching Son Volt (awesome show) when this young guy comes walking in. The waitress asks him for his ID and he states that he just wants food. The waitress tells him that the grill's closed, and he says, "But I paid $10 to eat!"

It turns out that when the guy was walking into the bar, some random guy outside asked him for his ID and charged him a cover of $10. And he fell for it. Call it a complete absence of compassion, but it's difficult to feel sorry for stupid people.

Any time you go into a bar area you should be wary that scams abound. Last week some black guy in gangster gear followed three, white, college frat boy types into the bar and the crowded back room. I notice the incongruity, and apparently so did the waitress. When she took his order, he told her to put it on the other guys' tab. The waitress asked the other guys, and they had no idea who he was. Realizing the gig was up, 50 Cent beat a quick retreat.

I mentioned the fake cover fee situation to a friend who came in later, and it got us to talking about scams. He says there's a guy who tries to charge parking fees to people who pull up to city meters. I told him that I once had a bum try to sell me a food processor late one night in front of a bar. My friend, however, trumped my story. He said that he was walking to work at a local bar, when a bum in a wheelchair rolled up, reached into his knapsack, pulled out a package of hot dogs, and tried to sell them to my friend for $.50.

The funniest story I heard was from a bartender friend of mine who had a panhandler try to sell him a flashlight. My friend took the flashlight, looked it over, and put it in his pocket. When the bum asked for $5, my friend replied, "Nah, I think I'll keep it for free. If you have a problem, why don't you find a cop."

Lately, the panhandlers in my neck of the woods have been using the "My children were in New Orleans" story. It's good to see the poor aren't afraid to profit off the tragedies of others any more than the rich.

I guess that as long as the stupid exist there will always be those willing to separate them from their money.

A guy like you we used to take out back and beat with a rubber hose.

2005-09-19T11:41:00.000-07:00

Do you ever get embarrassed for your gender? It's been happening to me quite a bit lately. Don't get me wrong, no one would ever refer to me as a "shrinking violet," a "goody two shoes," or a "compassionate person," but there are plenty of times where "guys being guys" makes me cringe.

For example, last week a guy called me into his office to show me some porn. Look, I like porn as much as the next guy, but I have no desire to sit around with other men and watch an Asian porn slideshow while at work. Hell, I'm pretty much over watching porn with other guys all together.

While I'm on the general subject, note to other male co-workers: I don't want to know about your sex life. Particularly if you are 40+ and have several teenagers. Look, it sucks that she, well, doesn't -- we all have our crosses to bear. But I have to sit next her at the firm Christmas party and make small talk.

I had another "Damn, men are douches" moment on Friday. I was sitting at my favorite beer dispensary with my lovely wife, when these two guys come in wearing striped shirts. One guy is about 5'6" and in his late 30s, and smells of Sports Stick, bourbon, and trouble. He's clearly an incredibly large tool on par with, say, an earthmover. He's also clearly drunk. Aggressively drunk. Lucky for him, his friend is younger, soberer, and much larger -- to the tune of 7-8 inches and 70 or so pounds.

I'm not really paying attention to ToolTime, but I do vaguely hear him say something to the bartender with the words "shot" and "waitress." The waitress, Savannah, is a well-endowed young lady. Well, she's not much of a lady, but she is well-endowed. When Savannah next walks by ToolTime, he stops her and asks her if she wants a shot. There's nothing particularly wrong with that. What was wrong is that the entire time he's talking, he's staring straight at her breasts. Savannah declines, and after ToolTime fails to find any other female takers, he and his friend leave.

Now, I realize this is a rather pointless incident, but it started a conversation between me and my wife the next day. I mentioned that, had I been an owner/bartender of the bar, I would have tossed the guy just for harassing my waitress. My wife felt that it would have been premature, especially since Savannah never complained. I was a bit surprised to find myself to the right of my wife on this issue. I went back to the bar on Saturday and mentioned the incident to Savannah, and she did inform me that the guy was a jerk, but all guys are jerks. Interestingly, my disapproval of the ogling must had led her to the mistaken notion that I have these "feelings" things, because, while she normally treats me like an skunk with gonorrhea, I was her "best buddy" for the rest of the evening.

Go figure.

I know it's not exactly a national news flash that a lot of men are dicks, but I would appreciate it if you could do it in your own environment, like sports and/or tiddy bars. If you're going to be an asshole yuppie, then congregate with other asshole yuppies. Don't come into a bar where I'm trying to drink.

I would also like to the add that this is just plain wrong.

Man, he's just like tripandicular, you know?

2005-09-19T07:43:00.000-07:00

Asked to comment on the news that her soccer coach and gym teacher had been arrested for allegedly having sexual relations with several male students, senior Samantha Candario said, "I liked her as a coach. She did make us run a lot." As for the alleged statutory rapes, "I just don't think it was fair to the team."

Candario then commented that it was "totally not cool" that Jenny Higgenbottem, her friend and Hammonton High School midfielder, was going to the Hurricane Katrina Relief Dance with Alex Beamon when she "so knew" that Candario likes him.

Segregation never brought anyone anything except trouble.

2005-09-16T15:08:00.000-07:00

Kim Plaintive has an interesting post up regarding minority groups at a law school fair. As she notes in the post, she's never really been much of a joiner, but she was convinced to get involved by a California Superior Court Judge who told her such groups provide "a great support network."

I really don't have much of a frame of reference to work from here, as I am neither a minority or a big "joiner." However, I've always been bemused by "minority" groups that are set up for networking. What it says to me is that entire reason for these groups' existence is to allow a group of people (in this case minorities) to give preferential treatment to people exactly like themselves. I wonder if these individuals see the double standard here?

I see this networking from a career perspective. There is a minority partner at my firm who works (it seems to me) almost exclusively with minority associates. To be fair, I've done some work with him, but it was specialized work for which there were no minority associates available. I don't really care in a real sense, but I can't help but scratch my head when people say that white folks are insular and not spreading opportunity, while minorities are clustering together trying to give others a leg up for no other reason that skin color.

Of course, I've heard the reason for these groups. It usually involves the argument that the minority is constantly discriminated against, so this makes for a level playing field. I don't believe the premise, and I also don't believe two wrongs make a right. These minority associates I work with could work for any partner in the firm (and often do), so it just seems rather interesting that this one partner seems intent on working with them. I know he thinks he's doing a good thing -- as do the people working in minority groups in law school -- but to me, an outside observer, it appears that such actions, organizations, and general clustering smell faintly of racial preference. When confronted with these organizations, I can't help but think the unoriginal thought of what angst it would cause if you replaced the name of any minority in an interest group with the word "White."

Kim's post (and the comments of her readers) only reinforce the idea that one of the problems with joining an insular group is that, well, people may form even tighter groups, and being a minority of one leads to crappy dinner parties, I imagine. Put another way, if you join a minority group, you lose the right to be surprised and disappointed when a minority group within the group develops.

That said, I don't see anything wrong with joining together to celebrate and explore your individual culture. If there is a Korean Students group that gets together and discusses Korean literature or eats Korean food, more power to them. I can only imagine how indignant I'd feel if I weren't allowed to sit at the bar with a beer discussing college football and other cultural subjects with my fellow redneck, Caucasian Southerners.

Take a cha-cha-cha-chance!

2005-09-16T07:17:00.000-07:00

My favorite Dilbert comic was one where Dilbert and Dogbert are sitting on a hill with their backs toward the "camera." Dilbert asks Dogbert if it's a sin to enjoy using cotton swabs in your ear, and Dogbert says "No." "Good," replies Dilbert, "because this morning I used a whole box."

This morning I was aurally pleasuring myself with a cotton swab,* when I heard a car alarm going off in the distance. It wasn't until I removed said swab from my ear that I realized that the "car alarm" was actually something we living in semi-rural areas call a "bird." Having lived in the city for so long, my mind just naturally translated the sound into what was familiar.

Today's my "bloggaversary" (or whatever the hell it's called), and I suppose that story is as good a metaphor as any for this blog: clichéd, but documenting change, nonetheless. Despite the recent changes in my life and this blog,I honestly can't believe it's been a whole year since I overcame the inertia of laziness to start this thing, and I never would have put money that I would be continuing to push pablum on the people one good solar rotation later.

When I first put finger to keyboard, my intention was to write about the Bush-Kerry race that was in full swing. Although I thought I had made a clean break from politics and public policy when I went to law school, it became obvious over the course of the campaign that I was an addict in denial. Inspired by others, the blog seemed like a nifty experiment to write about "Douche vs. Turd Sandwich 2004." Unfortunately for the blog (but damn fortunate for the general public), all bad campaigns must come to an end, leaving me with precious little to write about.

While it was easy to opine about gay marriage or tax plans, writing more personal posts was very difficult at first. In fact, it took me a couple of months to settle on even gazing at my navel. Gradually, those posts have taken over, and while they still aren't easy for me to write (no, I'm not sure why), they are certainly aren't as painful as when I first began (although they still are as painful to read, I'm sure).

Am I pleased with this blog? Sometimes. I compare it to other blogs I read regularly and just shake my head. But every blue moon I write something that I think borders on the pleasantly mediocre and that is satisfaction enough. It has never been my desire to have a famous blog, only to keep those who interest me returning to see what I'm up to, if only, like rednecks seeking NASCAR season tickets on Turn 4, so they can see all the good wipeouts. In this regard, I consider the blog a sterling success, and am inspired to continue plodding along until I get this right.

So on this holiest of days, here's to you, my readers, may you never grow weary of my mindless banter. You truly are the wind beneath my sheets.

* Don't put cotton swabs in your ear, or you'll puncture your eardrum or something. And quit touching yourself.

The Hills Have Eyes

2005-09-14T16:13:00.000-07:00

Fitz has joined my request for new blogs to read, and although I stand by all on my blogroll, there are two in particular that I wish to point out -- if only because they are a bit off the beaten path trod by blawgers.

The first is Pat the Chooks, the true life adventures of a Scotsman who has moved up into the Highlands and his passels of chooks (chickens), ducks, cats, voles, mice, etc. PTC's writing is as lush, complex, and blessedly uncomplicated as the land he lives. He started his blog writing solely about the fauna in his yard, but has expanded his range as his comfort level has increased. While he doesn't have many commenters (only having started linking other pages in the past couple of weeks), he plugs along posting much more frequently than many of his peers (guilty) and his posts are usually short and to the point (as opposed to my long willing ramblings). For a change of pace, I encourage you to visit the beautiful hills of Scotland.

The second is from a blogger with similar terrain. Fragments from Floyd is the work of a prof from Virginia Tech who lives in the lovely environs of the Shenandoah Valley. FF is loaded with rural charm, be it the stories about local happenings or the multitude of incredible pictures taken from one of the most charming areas of the country (one this boy from the flat, urban environs of Dallas particularly relishes).

There you go, a little living from the easy side of the street.

The vine bears three kinds of grapes: the first of pleasure, the second of intoxication, the third of disgust.

2005-09-13T15:42:00.000-07:00

1. What's up with the blogs I read? Lately some of my favorite bloggers have been calling it quits. Not to mention Soupie [rimshot]. Others are just not posting that often (yeah, yeah, I'm a black pot). I try not to keep up with more blogs than I can handle, but I'm starting to feel the need to find new locales to replace the holes left by the dearly departed.

You know me. What should I be reading? (My current list is my links).

2. What's up with grape Jolly Ranchers? The firm put a bowl of them out in the reception area, and what once was a nice mix of cherry, watermelon, apple, raspberry, and grape has turned into a bowl filled with grape. Obviously, as a group, people believe that grape tastes like cat turds, yet it still makes up 20% of a bag of mixed Jolly Ranchers. Why is that? It's not like Jolly Ranchers haven't been around for over 50 years. How long is it going to take before someone at Hershey's catches on that grape tastes like Courtney Love looks and quits wasting the Jolly Rancher-buying public's money? The government's got to be responsible for this somehow.

I'm just saying is all.

After all, we should remember that a murderer is only an extroverted suicide.

2005-09-13T13:21:00.000-07:00

The Missus and I were returning from a pleasant night's debauchery this past Saturday (OK, technically it was Sunday), when we were viciously attacked by our man-eating armadillo.

And by "viciously attacked" I mean, he rounded the same corner where I first saw him, saw us, and beat a hasty retreat.

And by "hasty retreat," I mean it took him about 15 seconds just to get turned around the tight area between the shrubs and the outer wall of the house.

Evidently -- and this was not in any wildlife guide -- armadillos cannot maneuver in reverse. Seriously, he did, like, a 9-point turn trying to get pointed the other way. Hell, we never would have even known he was there had he not run into the drain spout several times. My wife asked if we were in any danger, and I'm sitting here thinking, yeah, Ol' Killer there might just gnaw on our ankles if he can find his way out from underneath that boxwood. Now I know why they have armor, because if they didn't they would likely kill themselves just walking around.

Anyway, as the armadillo finally got oriented and headed out into the darkness, I realized that the little bastard is perfectly harmless. Sure, he digs holes in the yard, but it's not like he's committing securities fraud, participating in random geriatric assaults, or appearing on a reality show. Therefore, I have decided not to risk leprosy, and will co-exist peacefully with our little friend.

That said, I have taken it upon myself to provide the yard ape with an appropriate name, and therefore christen him "Spiny Norman." And there was much rejoicing.

Addendum: I'm not so sure about our educational system. I had lunch last week with some law students in an interview session when talk inevitably turned to armadillos. One of the applicants looked at me and said, "Are armadillos mammals?"

No, they're fish, and all of that armor is hiding their breathing apparatus. Here's your sign . .

One path leads to despair and utter hopelessness, the other to total extinction. Let us pray that we have the wisdom to choose correctly.

2005-09-12T15:16:00.000-07:00

There, but for the grace of God go I.

Have you seen the movie The Butterfly Effect? It's based on an old idea espoused by MIT meteorologist Edward Lorenz that a butterfly flapping its wings in Brazil can, through a process of events, create a tornado in Texas. This is an offshoot of the age-old concept that time is a fluid structure that may, through the merest of interference, result in widely divergent outcomes.

I remember something I read by Isaac Asimov years ago that put a mental picture to the concept. He suggested viewing timelines as rivulets of water originating from the top of a wall and flowing downwards. As the water responds to gravity, it seeks the path of least resistance, resulting in shifting, diverging, and converging rivulets. The merest bump, well out of your range of vision, could reset the course of the water in an entirely new direction.

In a simple sense, our lives are like rivulets running down a wall. Each of us is speeding along, making thousands of decisions a day that could profoundly impact our lives, and the lives of others. Or they may not. Who really knows? In theory, you can trace almost any result back to a seemingly pointless decision. Tracing the path would be impossible amidst the uncountable variables that cross our world. Am I alive because I decided to eat a peanut butter sandwich for lunch on August 9, 1987 rather than a tuna fish sandwich? What about everyone else on Earth? Were any of them effected by my culinary choice? There's no way to tell.

Despite the untold variables, there are many moments during our lives where we can point and say, "Ah-Ha! That was were I screwed up!" If we weren't able to put some consequence to actions, then we would never learn at all. Of course, the chaos of the near infinite variables means that we usually only see cause and effect when that are temporally close or if the cause/decision is so big that it clearly affected the outcome.

Let me give you an example of the latter situation. When I was a 2nd year in law school, I interviewed with a number of employers. Having lived on the road for years, I really didn't have a set location where I wanted to begin my career. I was fortunate to receive a number of employment offers for the next summer. I had decided early on that I would spend one half of my summer with a firm on the East Coast. My second half decision was much harder.

I had tried to interview in cities that I thought were interesting, such as Phoenix and Charlotte. One town that I had visited a few times and had been very intrigued by was New Orleans. I was given the opportunity to do a short initial interview with one of the larger firms in the city, and I jumped at it. That inteview led to a "call back" interview in the Big Easy, and placed it in the lead for working during the second half.

By the time I was heading for my call back in New Orleans, I had pretty much narrowed the decision down to there or Dallas. I had really enjoyed the firm in Dallas and the money was better there, but I was excited about the prospect of living in a city that was unlike any other in the world. With this in mind, I flew halfway across the country with the intention to make a sterling impression and land a job offer.

And then my rivulet his a bump. My bump came in the form of a 3 minute conversation with a bellhop in Le Meridien. On our way up to my room, he started making small talk by asking me why I was in town. He asked me where else I was looking, and I said, "Dallas." He responded that, given a choice, he would choose Dallas over New Orleans. He told me that he had lived in the area all of his life, but if it weren't for hunting and fishing in the swamps he would be on his way to Dallas where his sister lived and which, he assured me, was far superior to New Orleans in terms of livability.

There you go. One random conversation. I could have shown up 10 minutes later and had a different bell hop, or I could have asked about local restaurants before he started with his "why you in town" routine. But I didn't. Would I have decided on Dallas if I hadn't had that conversation? I can't honestly say. What I do know is that the bellhop's comments effectively scared me off New Orleans.

He also gave me several passes to check out the local entertainment. So if you happen to run into some cajun bellhop with a bleach streak in his hair, tell him I owe him a beer or two.

The one who adapts his policy to the times prospers.

2005-09-08T15:51:00.000-07:00

I used to watch a lot more TV than I do know, but I got tired of the networks killing the good series while the crap flourished. Yes, I know it is because Edna and Merle in Paducah, KY and every other polyester-loving couch ape can't get enough pablum like Everybody ~~Blows~~ Loves Raymond (stolen from George Carlin) while shows that actually require thought must depend on the 5% of the country that can actually read at a 6th grade level, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. I've gone as far as buying the first season of Millennium from a limited release in Japan years ago(now it's available here), and I can neither confirm or deny that I have every episode of Lone Gunmen (well before it came out "officially") and The Adventures of Brisco County, Jr. tucked away in my top-secret Fortress of Stolid-tude.

Fortunately, the networks are reaching back into their vaults to put out DVD sets of complete series and seasons of some really cool shows, and I'm very excited to see that FOX is releasing one of the most interesting shows ever tackled, Profit. The show starred Adrian Pasdar, who was also in the cool flick Near Dark, and aired for a mere 7 episodes back in 1996. The concept was simple, the protagonist, Jim Profit, is a brilliant sociopath who sets our to climb the corporate ladder by any means necessary. I'm sure if Machiavelli had seen this show, he could have gone, "Dude, that guy's a dick!" Profit was the first show to combine the free-wheeling business model of the '80s with the nihilism of the '90s and it spawned a character who made Gordon Gekko look like Gordon Jump. Pasdar totally owned the role, always cold and calculating, but pretending to be just another corporate automaton in public. I have no idea who greenlighted this show back when, but I suspect the creator got the original idea by listening to his college-age hippie daughter talk about evil corporate looters or some such.

The series did film four additional episodes that were never shown in the US, but FOX has included them on the DVD. If you're interested in a show a bit off the beaten path, then you should give this a look. Believe me, it can't be any worse than most shows out there today.

Now, if I can only get them to release Strange Luck and Nowhere Man . . .

The Austin to Boston Rejection

2005-09-07T11:04:00.000-07:00

Despite loads of supplies, volunteers, and a $25 million appropriation from the state legislature, residents of the Bay State find out what we already knew: No self-respecting Southerner would choose to leave Texas to go to Massachusetts.

Fifteen is my limit on schnitzengruben.

2005-09-07T07:49:00.000-07:00

I actually got a few paragraphs into a post defending the Administration from its attackers. In short, it was a nice piece about how our assumptions and the assumptions of commentators and politicians are to be blamed more than anything -- be they assumptions about how feasible it is to address an ongoing major national disaster; assumptions about how quickly troops can be mobilized and relocated with proper logistical support in an area where there is no communication, flooding, and where the roads are destroyed; or assumptions about the government's responsibility for the fiscal welfare of the poor.

Fortunately for both my readers, I got tired. I just got worn down hearing, reading, and seeing story after story about devastation and personal destruction. I think the kicker was the story I heard on the radio about dogs left behind, sitting on the porches of abandoned houses in flooded neighborhoods, after a week without food, searching the eyes of every passing boat for the familiar face of their owner.

I'm tired of the blame game -- specifically watching Democrat politicians scramble for microphones, like sharks with blood in the water, only too aware that this may be their big chance to turn the tide after a decade of political irrelevancy, and not wanting to let a second of dead air hang about American when it could be filled with finger pointing. If only they could get into New Orleans and stand next to some dead bodies -- now that would totally equal major votes.

I'm tired of watching Republicans fight their way out of an untenable position. Conservatives have known all along that government just doesn't work, but Bush's folks never got the memo. Now they're forced to defend the very beast they've failed to tame.

I'm tired of entertainers getting microphone time and print space to spread vicious and vile attacks simply because they are in the movies or have a hit album. Anyone with a personal agenda, particularly those who bring their own media teams along on their "humanitarian" forays to document their "gravitas," should receive the "Johnny Cash" salute.

I'm tired of watching quota kings holler about racism rather than recognizing that folks of all colors have been hurt in this disaster. Is the poor black who lost a rented apartment hurt more than the middle-class white who lost a $200,000 home? Sure, shit flows downhill, but you can't blame gravity on the government.

So I'm out. No pithy Katrina updates for the time being. No more fingerpointing or blaming here at Excitement Central. Just good ol' boring commentary about cats and traffic and stuff.

Carry on with whatever you were doing.

But Dallas ain't a woman to help you get your feet on the ground.

2005-09-06T13:06:00.000-07:00

This is an exciting time around the Centinel house. Not only are we newbie homeowners with a yard that is beginning to look "brown with a green hue," as opposed to the "just brown" we started with, but we are on the cusp of accepting our first refugee.

I didn't mention it last week, but my brother-in-law has been stuck in New Orleans since the storm hit (he was finally helicoptered out yesterday). Suffice to say, it was not his choice. His girlfriend, however, was able to flee to the relative safety of Baton Rouge. We are expecting her to show up here in Dallas any time now. Evidently, we'll be putting her up for a day or two before she heads to Kansas City where my brother-in-law is going to be sent.

The jury is still out on whether it is good or bad that this is as exciting as my life gets, but considering my underwear is clean and my house is dry, I'm going to go with "woo-hoo."

Marcia! Marcia! Marcia!

2005-09-02T14:08:00.000-07:00

Much of the rest of the world seems to be taking some glee in our most recent national disaster. Much like jealous Jan Brady force to deal with an overachieving Marcia, other countries apparently feel the need to gloat at our misfortune. Fortunately, I've been able to avoid anger by putting it all in perspective:

"I am absolutely disgusted. After the tsunami our people, even the ones who lost everything, wanted to help the others who were suffering," said Sajeewa Chinthaka, 36, as he watched a cricket match in Colombo, Sri Lanka.

"Not a single tourist caught in the tsunami was mugged. Now with all this happening in the U.S. we can easily see where the civilized part of the world's population is."

Wait, some guy from SRI LANKA is making jibes about our countries' relative level of civility?!? Hey, Saj let's see what's happening over there in your sad little corner of the world.

Political killings are now estimated at one a day, and the Sri Lankan foreign minister was shot down in Colombo 2 weeks ago by other Sri Lankans.

In June, gang members massacred 27 detainees -- and all the defendants walked on the charges to what Human Rights Watch called "a failure of the Sri Lankan justice system."

Rebels are conscripting children orphaned by the tsunami.

Sri Lanka has had a small problem with women being raped while in police custody.

Call me crazy, but I think that if you are going to make accusing other countries of being uncivil, you should make sure your country doesn't resemble a fraternity party with Jager on tap.

"A modern metropolis sinking in water and into anarchy -- it is a really cruel spectacle for a champion of security like Bush," France's left-leaning Liberation newspaper said.

"(Al Qaeda leader Osama) bin Laden, nice and dry in his hideaway, must be killing himself laughing."

What, do you actually think that a natural disaster has anything to do with security? Did this happen because some border guard let Katrina through without closely examining her passport? Did the NSA have credible evidence that Katrina was a threat to New Orleans as early as 2001? What did they know, and when did they know it?

I guess the French forgot about their little race riot earlier this year, their rising unemployment rates (3 times that of the US), and their own upcoming civil unrest. Too bad they don't have a natural disaster to blame it on.

Kuwaiti Muhammad Yousef Al-Mlaifi: "The wind sends torment to one group of people, and sends mercy to others.' I do not think -- and only Allah [really] knows -- that this wind, which completely wiped out American cities in these days, is a wind of mercy and blessing. It is almost certain that this is a wind of torment and evil that Allah has sent to this American empire."

So, when Iraq raped and pillaged Kuwait, what was he punishing you for? Being an asshole? Remind me, Mo, who was it that saved your sand-swept little gas repository? Allah? No? Wait, it'll come to me . . .

German newspaper: "The American president is closing his eyes to the economic and human costs his land and the world economy are suffering under natural catastrophes like Katrina and because of neglected environmental policies."

Didn't the Yalta Treaty have some clause prohibiting any Germany moralizing or preaching about global stewardship for at least a century? This is kind of like Courtney Love lecturing Barry Bonds about the evils of illegal steroid usage. Except, of course, that steroids exist. Look, Gunter, hurricanes were hitting America long before the first aerosolol bottle or internal combustion engine was ever conceived, so lets put the mouth in neutral and write about something with a basis in reality.

Hell, the Scorpions have created more pollution than all the rush hours in L.A.

I think this conversation between P.J. O'Rourke and Colin Powell sums it up:

P. J. O'ROURKE: Back in Lebanon in 1984, I was held at gunpoint by this Hezbollah kid, just a maniac, you know, at one of those checkpoints, screaming at me about America, great Satan, et cetera.

SECRETARY POWELL: Then he wanted a green card?

P. J. O'ROURKE: At the end of this rant, that's exactly what he said: "As soon as I get my green card, I am going to Dearborn, Michigan to study dental school." And he saw no disconnect.

SECRETARY POWELL: He's there now. He's not going back to Beirut.

P. J. O'ROURKE: He hated America so much and wanted nothing more than to be an American.

SECRETARY POWELL: They respect us and they resent us. But they want what we have.

Well, I'm not even sure that's a crime anymore. There've been a lot of changes in the law.

2005-09-01T14:35:00.000-07:00

With all of the stories detailing the aftermath of Katrina, this one is my favorite. In it, the reporter explains how a man in Hattiesburg, MS shot his sister in the head over a bag of ice. That's ice as in "frozen water" not "crystal meth."

No doubt this is a tragedy, but the last sentence was what caught my eye: "The shooting is being treated like a homicide, according to [Police Chief] Wynn."

Once again, I'm glad to say that despite all of the destruction and confusion riding Katrina's wake, it's still considered homicide when you shoot someone in the head fighting over ice.

If there's a world left when this is all over, I'd like to buy you a beer.

2005-09-01T06:48:00.000-07:00

I received this email this morning from a friend in North Carolina:

I don't know about the cities you fellas live in but madness is abound in the Charlotte Metro area. After going thru six gas stations on my way to work that did not have any gas the seventh station I came to gladly took $87.32 of my money and they also let me have the pleasure of waiting for 32 minutes just to get to pump. The sky is falling my friends, the sky is falling. There is good news to come from all of this turmoil. Our friendly neighborhood Jamaicans have no shortage of Red Stripe beer, and they are gladly supplying it to numerous local gas stations. So instead of going to get gas, we shall ride our bicycles to the store a buy plenty of Red Stripe. NO WORRIES MAN.

You read that correctly, despite the ever expanding emergency situation in the wake of Katrina, beer is still available. So you can all remain calm and perhaps say a little prayer for those who, for whatever reason, don't have access to beer.

Update 10/2/05: It looks like things are getting grimmer. Or is it more grim? Here's an email I received from my friend this morning:

You think you could Fed Ex me about 10-15 gallons of regular unleaded. I would greatly appreciate it.

And everyone has recourse to the law

2005-08-30T02:20:00.000-07:00

It's been great fun over the past couple of weeks reading the posts from newly minted 1Ls as they nervously begin taking their first classes. If I focus really hard, I can actually dredge up a few memories from that time -- the excitement, nervousness, and general confusion as you tackle a foreign and seemingly vast task with little or no outside preparation. (Does "Wayne's World" flashback sounds and motions "doo-doo-loo, doo-doo-loo).

I have been wrongfully accused of being a "gunner," and I want to clear my good name. I admit that I have no problem dispensing my opinions about, but I made a concerted effort not to talk too much in law school unless I had something to add or a serious question. Sure, I participated more due to the former reason than the latter, but that doesn't make me a gunner.

As I remember it, there were 2 reasons that I had a small reputation as a gunner: (1) the infamous Prince Albert case and (2) because I was a conservative in Con Law. Lemme 'splain.

1. Krell v. Henry: There are certain unwritten laws of law school. When I started, I assumed one that turned out to not be true. I thought that in large section classes, once you were "on call" for a case, you could slide the rest of the semester -- or at least until everyone else in the class has been called on. I was wrong.

I took Contracts first semester and had a very engaging professor. I was called on relatively early in the semester, and I was thrilled because I could cruise through the rest of the semester without having to prepare to get peppered on every case. Life is good.

Fast forward a month or so. I'm sitting in class, enjoying some space out time, when the Prof states, "I was going to call on Mr. Centinel for this next case, but since we only have a few minutes left and I want to get it done, I'll just cover it." This surprised me quite a bit. As I stated, I had been called on, and, more importantly, no one had been called on twice, and half the class still hadn't been in the hot seat.

I got home that evening and began my reading for the next days class. As I was working through the next case, I had an interesting thought -- what are the odds that I'll be called on tomorrow in Contracts? The more I read, the more convinced I became that I was going to be called on, so I decided to C my A.

The case de jour was English case of Krell v. Henry. The facts were fairly simple. Guy rents an apartment overlooking the parade route for the coronation of King Edward VII. Eddie gets sick. Coronation is called off. As both parties to the room rental agreed that the purpose of the contract was for Defendant to view the coronation, and as that purpose had been frustrated, the court refused to make the Defendant pay the rent. It was a simple case, but I was curious. What was Ol' Ed's illness, and why was the coronation called off? So I flipped on the internet and read up on King Edward VII for 10 whopping minutes just to sate my curiosity.

The next day, the professor begins his discussion of Krell, and calls on me sure as shootin'. "Mr. Centinel, have you had the opportunity of reading Krell v. Henry?" "I have." "And are you prepared to discuss it?" "I am." "Well, Mr. Centinel, this case concerns the coronation of King Edward VII. Do you know anything about him?" "Yes I do." "Please, enlighten us." So I did. I explained his background, why he was being coroneted, and why he called it off. When I got done, the Prof began slowly clapping his hands and led the class in a round of applause.

Now, if you had been in class, I'm sure you would have thought I was the Gunner Supreme, but remember, I thought I was going to be called on. Therefore, it shouldn't be a surprise that I was ready the next day. Several people asked me if I was a history major (no) and other similar questions. Clearly, they'd forgotten that I'd almost been called on, so they assumed I was just a nerd (true to an extent). Whatever the case, this class (unjustly) helped cement me as a gunner.

2. Class Bitch: I took Con Law during my 3rd semester. On the first day of class, my Con Law professor got done fisking the first poor soul, and then addressed the class in general -- "Who's my 'class federalist?'" Most of the class turned at unison and looked at me. Smiling, the Prof proceeded to engage me in a lengthy argument on the subject matter at hand for the rest of the class.

What I didn't know was that this was the Prof's M.O. -- in the first class he would identify a conservative foil to play off and he would call on him/her to comment on every @#$% case. Sure, I spent a good amount of class time debating the professor, but I didn't ask to -- he called on me! How does that make me a gunner???

Ridiculous. I want a new trial.

She was Lola in slacks... Dolly at school... Dolores on the dotted line.

2005-08-30T00:12:00.000-07:00

I have not been following this case (more here, here, and here), but I think it is instructive on how confusing our legal system can be.

The facts are somewhat simple. Michael Koso, a 22-year old Nebraskan, had a relationship with Crystal Guyer, who is currently 14-years old, when he was 21 and she was 13. Guyer got pregnant, and both parties and their parents agreed that the two should get married. Nebraska does not allow people under the age of 17 to get married, but nearby Kansas has no legislated minimum age for marriage as long as the parents give their consent and a judge signs off on the arrangement. So Koso and Guyer got married in Kansas and returned to live in his parents' home in Nebraska.

Unfortunately for the happy couple, the local constables found out about their, um, situation, which led to Nebraska Attorney General Jon Bruning filing a charge of sexual assault against Koso that could result in a 50-year sentence if Koso is convicted (this was after the local prosecutor refused to prosecute the matter following the marriage).

My first thought when first reading about this matter was that the AG was violating the rule of law. If this couple was married in Kansas, and Nebraska recognizes marriage in Kansas, then under what law does the AG intend to convict the man? Is it ever illegal to have sex with your own wife? These thoughts arose before I read on and discovered that Koso had sex with Guyer in Nebraska before they were married. This, of course, it an important distinction. There is a huge difference, under the law, in saying, as some news outlets have, that Koso is getting charged for having sex with his 14-year old wife, and saying that Koso has been charged for having sex with a 13-year old girl who later became his wife.

There is apparently no doubt that, under state law, Koso has committed statutory rape and sexual assault of a child. He had sex with a minor out of wedlock. The controlling Nebraska statute states as follows:

Sexual assault of a child; penalty.
28-320.01. (1) A person commits sexual assault of a child if he or she subjects another person fourteen years of age or younger to sexual contact and the actor is at least nineteen years of age or older.

The statutory rape law covers individuals 19 or older who have sex with someone 16 or younger. Koso was 19 at the time of the alleged intercourse and Guyer was 13. Interestingly, there does not appear to be an exception under this statute for married couples. In fact, based on my limited research, it appears that there is not common-law exclusion for married couples under the statute. See State v. Willis, 223 Neb. 844, 394 N.W.2d 648 (1986). In looking solely at Nebraska law, this makes sense -- to be convicted you must have sex with someone under 17, but only individuals 17 or older can get married. The problem, of course, arises in situations such as this where the marriage took place legally in another jurisdiction.

It is a principal of family law that courts in one state will recognize valid marriages in another "unless contrary to natural laws or statutes." Shea v. Shea, 294 N.Y. 909, 63 N.E.2d 113 (App. Div. 1945). I can't help but wonder, considering Nebraska's seemingly strict marriage age laws, whether the courts would consider any marriage where one of the parties was under 17 to be contrary to their statutes and therefore, like gay marriage, void (I submit that there is an argument that the legislature must specifically declare a type of marriage void for it to be so. See Loughran v. Loughran, 292 U.S. 216 (1934)). This would certainly explain the attitude of the AG who stated, "Of course the marriage is valid ... but it doesn't matter. I'm not going to stand by while a grown man ... has a relationship with a 13-year-old -- now 14-year old -- girl."

If this is true, then where is Nebraska drawing the line? Would the AG have taken Koso to court if he had married Guyer before they had sex on the theory that (1) there is no marriage exception to the statutory rape laws and/or (2) that Nebraska will not recognize marriage to a 14-year old? That's what a bright-line rule would demand. And if it would be statutory rape to have sex with your 14-year old wife in Nebraska, would that also apply to having sex with your 16-year old wife? If not, why?

As if this wasn't confusing me enough, I can't help but consider the equity argument here. I've stated before that it seems strange to me that men can be considered sex offenders when they end up marrying their "victims." In the words of one commentator, doesn't the marriage "balance the scales of social justice"? By prosecuting Koso, isn't Nebraska punishing him for "doing the right thing" and marrying the mother of his child? And if Koso is sent to prison, isn't Guyer (and their child) the one who is really getting punished by removing her husband and support when she needs it most? Isn't she the one these laws were designed to protect? Like I said, complicated.

Of course, in the end, the AG will get some great press, so I suppose the thing isn't a total waste.

This post sponsored by *

2005-08-29T10:37:00.000-07:00

Part of me finds this appalling, and part of me wonders how much tickets would cost.

However you come down on the issue, I'm sure the event makes the Super Bowl look like East Peoria High School's production of "Arsenic and Old Lace."

*Of course this is a joke. This post was actually sponsored by the 700 Club and meant to be read while listening to Jungle Love by Morris Day and The Time. Jesse. N-n-now Jerome. Yesssss!

Useless fact of the day

2005-08-29T09:47:00.000-07:00

I just discovered that Lana Wood, who is best known for her stirring portrayal of Bond girl "Plenty O'Toole" in Diamonds Are Forever, is the sister of Natalie Wood.

I also answered something that's bothered me for some time. In the movie, Bond meets Plenty in the casino and they go upstairs to his room. After he undresses her, some mafia guys hiding in the room throw her out of the window into the pool 10-stories below, ostensibly so Ms. Tiffany Case, played by the lovely Jill St. John, can put the moves on Bond. When next we see Plenty, she is bobbing in Ms. Case's pool. When Ms. Case asks Bond who she is, he makes some lame comment about how Plenty must have come looking for Ms. Case and the assassins sent to kill Ms. Case must have mistaken Plenty for her.

The problem is that Plenty never saw or even knew about Ms. Case, so why would she come looking for her? The hole is due to scenes removed from the final cut of the movie. Evidently, after being tossed from the window, Plenty returns to Bond's room (perhaps to locate her clothes) and spies Bond and Ms. Case in bed. Pissed off, she rummages through Ms. Case's purse, finds her address, and leaves. The rest is history.

If you have no understanding of any of this, then you clearly have not watched enough James Bond movies, and need to go rent something with Sean Connery in it, you commie.

I am afraid we are not rid of God because we still have faith in grammar.

2005-08-28T22:22:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer: I am not a Grammar Nazi. Hell, I can hardly spell, much less string a proper sentence together, but on occasion I run into one of those little rules of grammar that bug me for one reason or another. One that has gotten me arguing recently is whether singular possessive nouns that end in "s" should be given and apostrophe and another "S" or whether the apostrophe should stand alone. In short, which of the following is correct: Charles's or Charles'? Or are they both acceptable at this time?

Here's why I ask -- from my meager research it seems clear that the proper first singular plural form is Charles's (see here, here, and here), but the overwhelming majority of writers seem to use Charles' instead (see here, here, and here). (Interestingly, the Texas A&M Style Guide states that names ending in "s" should only be followed by an apostrophe, but seeking grammar advise from Texas A&M seems about as wise as seeking advice on good bar-b-que from a Yankee).

Up until a couple of years ago, I placed a lone apostrophe behind all possessives ending in "s," whether singular or plural, but now I am going with Strunk on the subject. I am a traditionalist by nature, but much like Liberals view of the Constitution, I tend to view grammar and a living organism that evolves over time. William Safire cemented this concept in my brain when I read one of his old columns about "retronyms." With that in mind, I'm willing to accept that should the overwhelming majority of individuals decide to dispense with the extra "s" following singular possessives ending in "s," then I'm willing to go along for the ride.

I'd be curious to hear what other people think about this example and perhaps provide others of rules that are being broken to the point where the error is now the rule.

Addendum: And what the hell's up with commas joining sets? Is it "Jimmy, Johnny, and I" or "Jimmy, Johnny and I"? I used to use the latter, but I've switched to the former over the past few years. Everybody tells me that either is correct as long as you're consistent, but that sounds like a copout.

I wanna go home with the armadillo.

2005-08-25T16:10:00.000-07:00

In case I haven't mentioned it yet, you need to know that my new yard is thrashed. Seriously. It is the Courtney Love of yards. This is likely the result of the yard being completely ignored for a year. Oh, sure, there were yard guys that mowed every couple of weeks, but no one watered the grass or maintained the beds. I've got vines resembling kudzu choking my shrubs, and one vine-covered trellis fell over and just about killed one of my boxwoods. There are, like, four different types of grass, and the only one growing or green is the crabgrass. To top it off, when the mortgage company drained my septic tank and replaced the biomat the week before we closed on the house, they covered over it with gravel. So now I have a little gravel pit in the middle of my backyard. Awesome.

In an attempt to start reviving the lawn, I fertilized it a couple of days ago and have been watering every night. This morning, I looked out the window on the front door to see how everything was progressing, when I noticed the shrub at the side of my house move. Curious, I walked around to the bay window in the study to see what was moving. Was it a cat? No. Was it the rabbit that lives in my front lawn? Uh-uh. It was an armadillo. Now, regular readers know that I'm a proud non-Texan who grew up in Georgia and North Carolina. I've seen my share of reptiles, amphibians, and mammals rustle through the local fauna. But until today, I had never seen an armadillo that wasn't lying on it's back beside an Oklahoma highway.

I know, for all intents and purposes, that the little bastards are basically just armor-plated possums, but that doesn't change the fact that they creep me out a little. One of my co-workers actually asked me if I was sure it was an armadillo. No, genius, how can I be sure that it was an armadillo, when so MANY things resemble armadillos? Such as, um, well, 15-pound roly-poly bugs?
Gimme a break.

If I were a weirdness magnet (or a copycat of a weirdness magnet) I would have some crazy story about how I got chased by the armadillo and climbed a juniper tree only to find out I was allergic to juniper when I broke out in hives the size of Toyotas. But I'm not, and I didn't. The armadillo scurried off into the woods, and I grabbed a Coke Zero and headed for my 45-minute commute.

Realizing that I now live in "armadillo country" I decided to find out the proper method of dealing with the critters. Fortunately, I work with a farm boy from West Texas who proved to be a fount of knowledge on the subject. Here's his advice: Evidently, armadillos are fairly blind so it is easy to sneak up on one. What I need to do is put on some work gloves, sneak up behind the bastard, grab it by the tail, throw it in the back of my truck, drive far away and drop it off. The only trick is not allowing the thing to scratch me, because I could get leprosy. Seriously. There is a second option, which involves pinning it to the ground and shooting it in the head, but I don't think my neighbors would approve. I was warned by my co-worker not to startle the armadillo before I grab it, because they can jump 3-4 feet straight in the air when startled. This was a nice heads up, because I'm sure the sight of an armadillo jumping that high while I'm bending over him would startle the piss out of me, and I like my piss where it is.

The upshot of all of these is that my wife now has a reason not to do any yard work, and I don't want to go near the bushes lest a rogue armadillo go off like a Bouncing Betty.

This crap never happened when I was living downtown. Still, it beats dealing with panhandlers.

Addendum: If you are going to write about armadillos, the appropriate music to listen to is Adam Ant.

I hear the [war]drums echoing tonight

2005-08-23T10:56:00.000-07:00

I was asked several months ago to join the Coalition for Darfur, a group of bloggers from across the political spectrum who banded together to raise awareness about the problems (genocide, famine) in the Sudan. I declined for two reasons. First, I didn't think that a weekly PSA was right for this blog. Call it an aversion to filler. Second, and most important, I wasn't sure I was in agreement with the founders' ideals. I just don't know enough about Africa to commit myself to someone else's viewpoint.

While I haven't participated, I have perused the postings of others on the subject, and am now willing to categorically say that I disagree with the Coalition. I didn't have any problem with their call for awareness or their goal of raising charity money for the region. What I have a problem with is their call to have the UN become militarily involved in the region. The Coalition seems to want the UN to become involved, other commentators have suggested that NATO step in, but either would mean U.S. soldiers once again fighting in East Africa.

I cannot support either of these suggestions. In his commentary on NPR this morning, Christopher Preble of the Cato Institute presented a thorough analysis on why military intervention in Darfur is a bad idea and why it is an African problem best left to Africans. I encourage those Conservatives/Libertarians who are part of the Coalition to take a listen.

My advice to you is to start drinking heavily.

2005-08-23T08:09:00.000-07:00

Sometimes the ethical obligations of law practice can be annoying. Case in point -- I have an acquaintance who is a musician popular among a certain set and who is the nephew of a somewhat well-known musician (how's that for vague). My friend, we'll call him Billy, is a rebel. I'm not talking about a "Justin Timberlake, I'm leaving the Backstreet Boys" rebel or even a "Kid Rock, I'm gonna talk about what a badass I am" rebel. Billy's more of a "I love doing drugs, getting in fights, and having sex with underage women" rebel. I should stress that Billy and I aren't tight -- he's a friend of a friend that I've hung out with a few times -- although I think he's a hell of a musician and songwriter.

I was talking to our mutual friend, Jimmy, on Thursday night and he happened to mention that Billy had just been sued. (I should mention that Billy lost a six-figure suit a couple of months ago to a major record label in a breach of contract case, so he is rather cash-strapped). What Billy had actually received was a "cease and desist" letter. It seems Billy had decided to use the likeness of a major name brand product in the production of his web site. The association was intended to be a funny one, but the corporation manufacturing the product was not amused.

Jimmy, knowing I was an lawyer (although not an IP lawyer) asked me about the issue. I did what I always do, instructed him to tell Billy to talk to a lawyer. Jimmy said Billy had, and then told me the advice the lawyer had given Billy. The advice didn't sound right to me, so I looked briefly into it the next day and basically found that Billy's lawyer is what we in the business call "malpractice waiting to happen."

Long, boring story short, Billy is going to cease and desist. The only thing that irks me is that I could not have done more to help him out. After reading the corporation's letter, I feel that Billy may have a case. I would have liked to have been more open with him about the issues involved, but I couldn't because it cannot objectively appear I am giving him legal advice. There are two reasons for this. First, my firm might view giving free legal advice as a violation of the conditions of my employment. Second, if Billy were to follow my advice and run into legal trouble, he would have a basis for bringing a malpractice action against me.

This type of thing happens more than I'd like. A friend will ask me for what they view as simple legal advice, but I am constrained from helping them out because I don't want to open myself up to liability, no matter how slight. Generally they're looking for some general advice regarding a divorce, traffic violation, or, these days, about starting a small business. Each time it happens, I try to weasel around providing an answer or to just explain that this "little advice" might lead to me losing a job or becoming disbarred -- and that I'm not going to risk hundreds of thousands of dollars in debts and earning potential to give some free advice, not matter what assurances the receiver makes.

So, if you are a non-lawyer friend of mine (the best kind), I just want you to know that the reason I don't answer your legal question is not because I'm a dick. It's because I'm a wuss.

I'm glad I could clear that up.

Natural selection in action

2005-08-22T12:02:00.000-07:00

On our way into Dallas for a night of drinking and debauchery, my wife and I saw a chesty, blonde woman talking on a cell phone held in her left hand. While applying mascara with her right. At night. Driving a Miata. On the interstate.

40+ minutes with : Narishkayt

2005-08-21T23:48:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I've written on the gristmill of democracy, NPR, and their never-ending search for truth, justice and the American Way ™, as underwritten by the Foundation for the Advancement of Liberal Bedwetters. Part of the reason I haven't posted on the subject is, well, because I quit posting on anything for a couple of weeks, but part is to to the fact that NPR hasn't really been reporting on anything interesting. That is, NPR has been focusing on international political stories and I don't find them interesting.

Now that I've opted for a 40+ minute drive, I'm hearing more, but it's no more interesting. What am I going to say about a story concerning oil production in Nigeria? Nothing, because I don't care. Now, if Steve Innskeep were to report that aliens had landed in Nigeria, then that would be a story, if only because it would indicate that aliens lack the intelligence to know not to visit Nigeria.

Today, however, NPR did present a brief story accompanied by interviews that made me just shake my head at how stupid some people are. I'm sure you've heard a little bit about the Gaza pullout considering its on the news about as often as Natalee Holloway. Anyway, as you may have heard, Israel was offering to buyout any settlers who left Gaza before the pullout deadline, and now they're going door-to-door hauling out anyone who refused to leave.

The NPR correspondent went and spoke to some people who are now living in a hotel following their forceful removal. The mother was complaining that they were only allocated 10 days in the hotel, and that following that they did not know where she, here husband, and their two young children would live. When asked why she didn't plan for this little eventuality, she replied that they didn't believe the Israeli government would actually vacate them from the settlement.

Way to contingency plan, sister. Despite being told repeatedly for months that they would be forced to evacuate their house, and despite being offered money and assistance in locating a suitable replacement home for their family, this woman and her husband decided that it just wasn't going to happen. So they blissfully went on living their lives until they were dragged out of their house by Israeli police. I understand that these people didn't want to leave -- I wouldn't want to be forced off my property -- but they to at least suspect that the Israeli government might have the political will to forcibly remove them from their homes. By not hedging their bets, they are now essentially homeless and reduced to trying to convince reporters that they have been victimized. The only victims are their children who have to live with their parents' bonehead decision.

Huh! and that ain't cool

2005-08-18T16:18:00.000-07:00

Pat the Chooks has presented the "ultimate cultural question": Hey Joe or Hey Jude? I've never really thought about it, but I think he's on to something here. Other than the similarity between the names, these two songs have nothing in common.

Hey Joe is a earthy song based on the most primal blues tradition -- a guy going to shoot his unfaithful lover and then run off to avoid being killed himself. Hendrix's slowhand action on guitar only contributes to the dark nature of the story -- you can actually feel the fatalism. This song is damn near Faulkneresque, and is, I believe, American to the core.

Hey Jude, on the other hand, is a slightly moppish pop song written to John Lennon's son. It is as optimistic as Hey Joe is realistic. It is a prime example of British songwriting during the 1960s, and, I contend, is popular for its hook and sing-along chorus.

I suppose you could divide humanity up into these two camps and it would tell you as much about them as any division. So which is it?

All right, if someone deserves a tip, if they really put forth an effort, I'll give them something a little something extra.

2005-08-17T23:58:00.000-07:00

This article is a microcosm of what's wrong with the media these days. For those too lazy to read the article, it's about a 19-year old waitress in Sweden who had a customer give her a Porsche as a tip.

If you were to look at the headline, you would assume that the waitress was the recipient of a sportscar worth at least $50,000. Instead, it turns out that she got a 1979 junked out Porsche worth a whopping $4,000. It would have been a better tip if she had gotten a new Hyundai, but that wouldn't have made international news. This, by itself, insults the intelligence of the reader, but the news agency lamely attempts to sell the article by adding a COMPLETELY UNRELATED picture of some guy getting into a much newer Porsche (which is like a newspaper printing a story on some minor league baseball player hitting a grandslam with a picture of Barry Bonds next to it having the caption "Baseball player hitting grandslam"), and by finishing the article with the following gratuitous statement:

The incident is reminiscent of the 1994 Hollywood movie "It Could Happen To You" starring Nicolas Cage and Bridget Fonda, in which a waitress becomes a millionaire when her customer offers to share his lottery ticket with her in lieu of a tip.

Please. This guy pawned off a rundown old car that had probably been darkening his driveway under a moldy tarp for years, and now some reporter wants to compare it to a multi-million dollar tip. News sucks.

Not that I care or anything.

This Old F***ing House, Part 1

2005-08-17T13:50:00.000-07:00

Moving blows, and moving into your first house blows big time, which, one can assume is worse than just blowing. It's not just the "packing everything up and transporting it to the new location and unpacking" that is so effervescently sucky, but the fact that there is so much to do once the stuff is moved. I could make a list of projects that would stretch longer than a Milbarge post,and I want to have them all done by the end of this weekend. Oh, and I don't want to perform any actual work in the process, because, as it turns out, I'm very lazy.

If you have never bought a house, here is my advice: Expect to spend at least double the list price of the house. Sure, your mortgage may only be for $150,000, but you can bet your ass that you will spend at least that much during the first few weeks on other crap, like extra soap dispensers, bedding, lawn mowers, trimmers, edgers, clippers, phones, furniture, pictures, wheelbarrows, hoses, tools, electronic parts and connectors, shower curtains, towels, etc. Hell, I've been to Lowe's so many times in the past two weeks that some folks think I work there, and I'm going to have to sell off my first-born just to pay for all of the crap I've bought there.

Also, be aware that you cannot walk into any store without buying twice as much as you expect. For example, I went in to Circuit City last night to buy a $15 cord, and came out with a $70 alarm clock, a wireless router, and the complete 2nd season of Joanie Loves Chachi on DVD.

Some of this stuff is superfluous, but if you live in Texas the ant-killing crystals and spreader are mandatory. I got bitten by several fire ants last week, and within a day it looked like I had developed boils where they had nailed me. The rash acts of these few bad apples cost the lives of thousands of their friends and family members as I laid waste to the nearest football-sized mound with chemicals, water, and the "Nike of justice."

The previous owners also had the hots for roses. I hate roses so naturally the damn things were in beds all around the house. Some of them had stalks as wide as your thumb with inch-long, wicked-looking thorns. I finally decided on the most effective way of removing them -- wrap a chain around the base of the rose bush, wrap the other end of the chain around the ball hitch on your pickup, and let the V-8 do the rest. Unfortunately, my wife didn't want me digging up the front yard and running over the embedded sprinkler heads, so many of the rose bushes experienced what I like to call "ground level" pruning.

Tune in next week when or topic will be, "Crabgrass: Nature's Attempt to Really Piss Me Off."

Confucius say, law school like sitting on cactus -- many pricks, pain in ass

2005-08-17T11:48:00.000-07:00

I wrote this post several months ago as people were getting accepted into law school. Since it relates to my thoughts about being a successful law student, I'm linking to it now.

If you are starting your 1L year over the next couple of weeks, I wish you well. I imagine I speak for a good number of us practicing attorney-types when I say that we are all a bit envious and, at the same time, a bit glad it isn't us. The next three years of your lives will be challenging no matter what you do, but will only be as fun as you decide to let them. With that in mind, stop to smell the roses whenever you can.

But remember, exams are only four months away. ;)

Catfish on the table and gospel in the air.

2005-08-16T15:53:00.000-07:00

I've gotta admit, I'm shocked you don't see more of this kind of thing. While I have not spent much time in Connecticut, what I've seen there and in the other New England states are cities in decline -- old mill towns with old buildings and infrastructure. Anyone who has ever driven through Hartford and then been in Charlotte has to wonder why anyone would stay up north. Our weather is milder, our women are better looking, and our people are friendlier.

Add in the cost of regulations, taxes, and unions, and it seems to me that any company that remains north of the Mason-Dixon line is just being stubborn. Those managers moving from Connecticut to Tennessee will now enjoy no state income tax, lower total taxes, and don't even get me started about cost-of-living differences -- in real terms these workers just DOUBLED their salaries (to match the purchasing power median income of $128,000 that these employees make in Memphis, they would have to be paid $261,000 in Stamford). Hell, Memphis even has passable bar-b-que joints, something that I'm sure Connecticut can't say.

So welcome home, boys and girls. Grab yourselves a pulled pork sandwich w/ slaw on the bun, head on down to Beale St. for a beer and some blues, and wonder what you ever did to be so lucky. Even if you don't realize it now, in a few months you'll know what it's like to paroled out of prison.

Just remember that we don't give a damn how you did it up North, and we're all going to get along just fine.

No good deed goes unpunished

2005-08-12T13:08:00.000-07:00

If the plaintiffs bar wants a clue as to why many people hold them in contempt, it need look no further than a suit filed today in California. Evidently, the show Extreme Makeover: Home Edition built a house for a couple who had taken in 5 orphaned teenagers. The teenagers allege that the couple then began making their lives miserable in a successful attempt to force them out.

So what do the kids do (with the help of an enterprising lawyer)? They file suit against ABC because ABC's got the money, not the couple. The kids claim ABC promised them a home, and therefore ABC owes them a home. Here's hoping that someone explains to their attorney the legal difference between a "promise" and a "contract."

Look, I don't know all the facts here, but I feel safe in saying that ABC did absolutely nothing wrong, even if the couple forced the kids out gunpoint. However, the plaintiffs' attorney knows that ABC will likely be willing to pay to make the thing go away.

Stories like these make me dislike people more and more.

But users, cheaters, six-time losers hang around the theaters

2005-08-12T11:13:00.000-07:00

One benefit of my move to the country is that I won't have to deal with panhandlers every time I walk down the street. I love Deep Ellum, but the homeless population here is starting to get to me. That is, while I'm sure I had compassion for the homeless at some time in my life -- perhaps while in elementary school -- I have reached a tolerance point as of late. I can't tell you if I'm getting panhandled more or if my patience is just getting thinner, but I am getting sick of it. I cannot walk 2 blocks in my area without some guy with his handout and some story honing in on me. "I'm not a thief/drunk/addict. I'm a former veteran/Christian/HIV positive, and I'm just looking to get in a shelter/to buy some food/to get my feet on the ground." No matter how good their story is, it's all crap. They want money for one of four things: drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, or food. And most aren't concerned about cigarettes (which they can bum) or food. I know this because I have talked to them and watched them for the past two years. They have been an unfortunate part of my daily existence, and I won't cry leaving them behind.

There was a short segment on the local NPR affiliate the other day about some local homeless "solutions." First, they talked with a developer who has this brilliant idea to build subsidized private housing downtown for the homeless. He stated that the overwhelming majority of homeless individuals he had spoken with said that they couldn't wait to turn their lives around and "were already thinking of ways to pay the rent."

There truly is a sucker born every minute. Of course these indigents are going to tell you that they love your idea. They have the practiced ability to tell you whatever they think you want to hear because they know that's the way to a handout. This guy could have asked them how they thought about his idea to hang them up like suits every night with big hangers, and they would have told him how much they enjoy sleeping vertically. Understand, the overwhelming majority of homeless are low-level con-artists and thieves. They'll swipe a tip jar from a bar when no one's looking, but they will not stick you up in an alley. They are scavengers who will rely on their pitifulness or your need to help them to get what they want.

Case in point: A few months ago, a friend of mine and I were leaving a local bar one night when we were approached by a scruffy looking white guy. He was bald and scrawny with a beard and dirty clothes. He first asked if we were from Texas, and when my friend said he was this guy starts saying things that were so racist Robert Byrd would have blushed. Most of his comments concerned how we were white, he was white, and how there were too many blacks in the area. Not that he used the word "blacks," mind you. My friend and I told him to hit the bricks, and he did. Fast forward to two nights ago. I stopped in a local store and Whitey was at the counter asking for a hand out -- FROM A BLACK GUY. Get this, the black guy actually gives him a couple of bucks and our koncerned klansman started kissing the guy's ass like it was made of sugar, telling him how much a help he was and, oddly, telling the black guy that "when [he] lands on his feet, [he'll] but him dinner at Red Lobster!" Evidently, Red Lobster is high-class fare in the white trash community. If a man will sublimate his hatred of a group for a couple of bucks, then he's lacking a bit of sincerity in my book.

The second part of the NPR report focused on some do-gooder who owns a restaurant chain and drives a food van around to the homeless "camps" ("Welcome, boys and girls to Camp Under-The-Bypass. This summer we'll be learning outdoor skills such as how to make a shelter out of soup cans and cardboard.") Anyway, the city has apparently been trying to impede his charity by telling him that he's not helping the homeless by feeding them where they live, but he is not to be deterred. He is on a mission from God. As I recently read, he has his own truth and its useless to try to convince him otherwise.

What I'm seeing are people who have no basic understanding of who and what the homeless are, but are willing to wade waist-deep into the problem. Here are the facts, as I see them:

Most panhandlers are homeless by choice, not because of the Bush tax cuts or evil corporations. There are some crazy mothers out there, but most of them end up in jail or dead. While homeless people may whine about how bad their lives are, they are still unwilling to work a steady job in order to earn a paycheck.

Panhandlers want you to give them money when they ask for it. They don't really want you to buy them dinner (although they won't turn it down) or bring them clothing. They sure as hell don't want you to offer them a job.

Some panhandlers foster an illusion that they are trying to pull themselves up by the bootstraps. This is not true. The person may actually believe it, but odds are that they are just using it to make their marks feel like they are contributing to a greater good.

If a homeless person tells you something in the course of panhandling you, it is almost certainly a lie. They don't need food, they want drugs. They don't need $3 to get into a shelter at midnight -- most shelters won't even let them in after that time!

If you give money and/or food to a homeless person, you are just, and I hate using this psychobabble word, enabling them. People are like other animals. If you want to know how giving money to a homeless person affects the population, I encourage you to go to the nearest beach and feed the seagulls. See how many show up. Better yet, start feeding a stray cat, and then see if it shows by up. By assisting them, we allow them to continue their lifestyle.

Panhandlers will not die if every person was able to tell them to screw off. When's the last time you heard of a homeless person dying of starvation? It doesn't happen.

Contrary to belief, don't ignore panhandlers because you might run into one that wigs because you're not treating them like a person. Always answer, be firm, don't stop to chat.

Am I flogging a deceased equine? Probably, but it's only because it's started to get to me. The rules around here as relates to panhandlers are simple -- they ask, if declined they back off. But lately they've been getting more aggressive. I've been approached in bars and actually had one follow me into a bar one night to argue with me after I'd told him to scram. Unfortunately for him, before I even realized he was behind me, a customer who was evidently a local bouncer bounded up and threatened to kick the guy's ass if he didn't leave (I've noticed that a lot of local employees are more than willing to threaten the homeless).

In order to help the homeless, we've got to all practice tough love. As long as they can count on handouts, they will continue to look for handouts rather than find a job or contribute to society in any way. Anyway, would you give panhandlers money in your neighborhood? Hell, no. You know it would just lead to more panhandlers, and that would just lead to you car getting broken into every other week and people using your backyard as a restroom. All I ask is that you remember that if you feel the need to give someone a dollar in someone else's neighborhood.

Return of the Native

2005-08-11T08:48:00.000-07:00

How lazy do you have to be to disappear for a couple of weeks without telling anyone? Apparently, I set the standard.

First, let me apologize those who may have regularly clicked over to check for updates during this time. I'm certainly not the first to note that blogging has its own social contract, whereby the monster must be fed fresh life experiences and/or thoughtful commentary. I'll admit that I have scoured the net for something for post material when I didn't feel like writing, and I've written passionately about things I don't care about just to keep the home fires burning. Unfortunately, I couldn't sustain that level of disinterest for long, so when my extracurriculars (definition = those things I do when not blogging) began to bear down on me, I decided to take an unannounced sabbatical. I have not written (other that several 12(b)(6) motions and MSJs), I have not read other blogs (other than E.Spat's mind-blowing serial on Ex #1), and I have felt little to no guilt about it.

What have I been doing? In a nutshell, I've been absolutely deluged at work, and I have been doing the house stuff (buying, inspecting, closing, cleaning, packing, moving, buying, buying, buying, etc.) As you can imagine, none of this lends itself to interesting posts, so I have spared you the pain of diatribes about crabgrass and idiot opposition counsel. I have also done my best to avoid posting any meaningless commentary about how I feel about the state of the world.

During my time off, I've thought a bit about what I'm going to do with this site, including whether I want to continue at all. I haven't decided what direction I'm going, but I have decided to keep trucking. Now that I've cleared my desk a bit, I feel somewhat rejuvenated. I still enjoy this outlet, and I have enjoyed the relationships I've made with other bloggers. I don't think I'm ready to lose either.

The fact is, I'm facing a lifestyle change. Tomorrow, me and the Mrs. are officially moving over to the house, which is roughly 25 miles away from where we are now.. My late-night forays into seedy bars will be replaced by . . . I don't know. I suspect that once we get settled, I will have time every night to write. That may lead to a posting explosion. Or it may lead to me sitting around in my underwear watching reruns of the Family Guy.

Whatever the case, I'm back, and I hope some of my friends are still around.

Random news quotes

2005-07-26T15:54:00.000-07:00

"Watermelon, back in the days, was a good food for African Americans, according to the Bible, but at the same time, it had an attachment with slavery and bondage ties," the Rev. Carl Johnson said.

"Butt-shark! Butt-shark!"

"It took me and the rest of the family almost three minutes to get the cow off him."

"The written informed consent of a minor's parent or legal guardian... must be obtained prior to providing body waxing on or near the genitalia."

"I was stripped naked and some guys wearing chemical suits were spraying water over me."

A night in the life

2005-07-21T15:36:00.000-07:00

Saturday night. Dallas, Texas. My wife's out for the evening with friends watching Willie Wonka. The original plan was for me to hole up alone and read my responsibly pre-ordered and newly arrived Harry Potter book. It turns out that Amazon is not as magical as the material entrusted to it, and Mr. Potter was unable to attend our confab. Instead I sat for an evening of leftist scare tactics dressed up as an action movie entitled The Day After Tomorrow. Surprisingly, if you are able to picture in you head all the morons who actually got all hot and bothered by this pish, it became quite an enjoyable film.

TANGENT: I don't want to ruin the film "experience" for any who have missed this movie, but part of the plot requires that Mexico start taking in a good portion of American citizens. It's a pretty self-satisfied moment that the director plays with finesse by having some newsman note the irony that Americans must go to Mexico, you know, for the 3-year olds in the audience that didn't catch it. Of course, they continue to push the idea that we beg for assistance rather than acknowledge that it is likely that, upon deciding that America would become inhabitable, the U.S. military would be occupying most of South America within weeks. /TANGENT

The movie ends, the world is once again safe thanks to Dennis Quaid, and it's time to think about heading out. A change of clothes and 15-minute walk later and I'm sitting at My Bar drinking a Fat Tire draft.

There are two bartenders working tonight: the owners' son, Jimmy, and the new guy, a former metal roadie, Jake, who is fairly cool with his cute Scott Ian beard and "rock and roll" cowboy hat. Jim is a huge fight fan and is bitching about missing the Hopkins/Taylor fight. Jake has been sneaking around with his best friends girlfriend, Susan, while still trying to get together with his old girlfriend, Lauren. Susan is sitting at a table in the back and Lauren comes in and sits down next to her and they start talking a laughing. Jake gives me a look that says "this is going to turn horribly wrong very quickly." I laughed.

Beer two. My buddies Billy and Shawn come in separately. Billy does the lights for a local small concert venue and is stoked because it has been leased out to a local law firm to hold a clerk event. Very odd for a place where the average paying customer looks like this who are listening to music by this. He's stoked to be making double his rate off the rich numbnut lawyers who are brave enough to make there way to his layer of hell. Shawn works for a company inspecting gas stations, is a bit of a pretty boy/roughneck (I know, odd mix). He's dating a local waitress who wants to move in with him -- and he evidently went to see a movie earlier that night with Jake's old girlfriend Lauren. Jake is not pleased.

Beer three. I get grabbed by the arm from behind, and turn around to find Missy and her considerable breasts, which are being lifted and separated in my face. Missy is sort of a perennial screw-up. She's moderately attractive (worked the tables in a strip club), but aging rapidly. She has a tremendous smokers voice, is perpetually drunk, and is crazier than a possum in a burlap bag. I haven't seen Missy in a month or so, she hints at problems and then informs me that she's bought a local bar, and the Dallas Observer is doing a piece on her as the youngest bar owner in town. I wonder who gave her the money.

After 10 min., she begs me to walk her 3 blocks to get a check. Evidently, she's too scared to walk 3 blocks on her own, even thought there are 15 policemen sitting in an intersection on the way. I, being insane, agreed. She informs me on the way out that her bar-funding source is a local 50ish (gay?) guy who still hangs out in the area and that he's being a crappy silent partner because he can't remain silent. The bar we're making for is the local biker bar and is managed by a friend of mine who is former army security for Gen. Tommy Franks. Not to be messed with. We get down there and get patted down for weapons at the door. Not a good sign. The have the Hopkins/Taylor fight on pay-per-view. Signs improving. Rough crowd. Signs confused. Beer four. Signs happy.

Missy starts irritating everyone in sight, including the doorman who looked like he eats steak made out of nails. I flip my friend, the manager off, and settle in to watch the fight, which is now in the 6th round.

Beer five. Still watching. Hopkins is not looking too good. Beer six. Hopkins is looking better. For that matter, so is the 40-year old sitting next to me. Beer is good. The fight ends and I grab Missy and we bail back to My Bar, where she drives off into the night.

Susan and Lauren are still sitting at the back table talking and laughing. Jake looks close to hyperventilating. I tell Jimmy the fight result, and he goes completely ballistic because I didn't call him to come down and watch. He tells random customers the rest of the night that I am a dick for not calling. I am, but generally for other reasons. I would be offended, but Beer Seven salves my wounded heart.

I sit down at one of the bar game machines and start kicking names and taking ass at Funky Monkey and Trivia Master. I lost count of beers.

Next thing I know, it's closing time. Out, out, damn spots. Nothing left by the chosen few, who continue to drink as the crew cleans up. Soon, Jimmy takes off and the lights go off to provide the illusion of emptiness. Johnny Cash sings "When the Man Comes Around" though the stereo. As Lauren took off earlier, it's now me, Jake, and his illicit love hound, Susan. Susan and I begin discussing classic literature. Jake begins complaining about our discussion of classic literature, his specialty being alternative metal music recorded from 1998-2005.

Jake gets a call on his cell and says "Cool, I'll be here." When I ask him who's coming, he said "special guests." The guests, who were in the studio working on their new album, showed up and did a couple of shots. The guys were pumped and incredibly cool. After they left, I bailed for home and the comfort of my bed.

6

2005-07-14T13:28:00.000-07:00

As I've mentioned recently, we are in the process of buying my first house (closing = 8 days). People have told me that this time will be a rollercoaster ride of excitement, and they have been dead on the money. They've described the anticipation, the worry, and the constant waiting with bated breath for something to happen. Hell, I've been experiencing it all. The mixed excitement and nervousness, the lack of focus and sleep, and the general feeling that this is the calm before the storm. It's moments like these that make you really feel alive, you know?

The house has been on my mind a bit, too.

An idea who's time has come. Or is it "that's time has come"?

2005-07-14T11:27:00.000-07:00

Feddie over at rock-ribbed Southern Appeal is working on creating a t-shirt with a phrase of his coinage: "Stare decisis is fo' suckas!" If you are a big fan of "The Man" Justice Thomas and/or you think Wickard v. Filburn was the worst decision since Boston traded the Babe, then this is a must have. If you are a conservative-type preparing to enter law school, you'll definitely want one of these if just to piss off your ConLaw prof.

Me fail English? That's unpossible.

2005-07-13T16:18:00.000-07:00

I just got a letter from plaintiff's counsel in one of my cases stating that he had looked "thru" my discovery responses. I would make fun of the guy, but I think in West Texas that may be an acceptable spelling of the word.

Left hand, meet right hand.

2005-07-13T14:43:00.000-07:00

Exerpt from Article #1 dated 7/13/05:

A speech by Sen. [Hillary Rodham] Clinton in January in Albany, N.Y., led to a flurry of speculation that she was shifting slightly to the right. In that speech, she called abortion a "sad, even tragic choice" and said her husband's administration had done a great deal to reduce the number of abortions in the United States.

Conservatives and abortion-rights foes portrayed the speech as a sign that she was edging toward the middle with an eye toward the 2008 presidential campaign. Her supporters, however, said she was simply repeating positions she had stated since her 2000 campaign for the Senate.

Exerpt from Article #2 dated 7/13/5:

A team of Senate and House Democrats today are planning to introduce legislation today aimed at significantly increasing size of the U.S. Army.

Sen. Joseph Lieberman (D-Conn.), ranking member of the Senate Armed Services (SASC) airland subcommittee, Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton (D-N.Y.), a SASC member, and Reps. Ellen Tauscher (D-Calif.) and Mark Udall (D-Colo.), both members of the House Armed Services committee, are pressing for the passage of the United States Army Relief Act.

If you don't think Hillary Clinton is shoring up her right flank in a run for the presidency, I have some oceanfront property in Ft. Worth I'd like to sell you.

10 minutes with : Run for the Border

2005-07-13T11:04:00.000-07:00

I haven't been commenting on NPR lately because I just haven't had time between work, my in-laws coming to town, and doing the home-buying thing. Another reason is that they haven't been yanking my chain lately. Most of the reason for this is likely due to the fact that I've been leaving for work earlier, which forces me to listen to the local news instead of the national commentary.

On Monday, however, the forces of the universe aligned to bring about something only slightly rarer than full solar eclipse, an interesting NPR story that I, generally, agree with. I say "agree" because NPR's "news" commentaries are generally just liberal viewpoint reporting. However, today, NPR hit an issue that is red meat to the America First crowd: illegal immigration. Specifically, they tackled the problem of OTM ("other than Mexican") illegal immigration out of Mexico.

Let me state on the record that I'm not all paleo-conish when it comes to the issue of illegal immigration. I'm certainly for enforcing the laws we have on the book, but I also believe that immigration is a necessary component of continued national strength.

That said, NPR's reporting on OTM immigrants was an eye-opener. They stated that under current regulations, border patrol agents return Mexican immigrants to the border after they bust them trying to sneak into the US. It is a somewhat futile gesture, the Mexicans just try again until they taste freedom, which, as everyone knows, tastes awfully similar to Cherry Garcia ice cream. OTMs, on the other hand, are not kicked out but are given a ticket and a "permiso," which instructs them to show up before an immigration court on such-and-such a date. They are then set free, what border patrol agents refer to as "catch and release," and their permiso gets them past other checkpoints. The reasoning behind this, according to the Border Patrol, is that they simply don't have the manpower to detain these illegal entrants until their trial.

OTMs have recognized this loophole in the system and are exploiting it like a carney ringmaster with a 2-headed cow. It appears that illegal immigration from OTMs is doubling every year to where it's estimated that 71,000 OTMs illegally crossed into the US this year. That's 71.000 Brazilians, Hondurans, and Chinese (yes, the Chinese are sneaking across the Rio, too) that are given a free pass to roam. Homeland Security, indeed.

Perhaps the least shocking statistic of the weeks show that a whopping 2% of the ticketed OTMs actually show up for their court dates. This is probably the same 2% from which they draw the celebrity jury pool -- those too dumb to get away. Judges read off charges and findings to virtually empty courtrooms while the defendants themselves are trimming the judges' hedges on a landscaping crew.

I could comment on how asinine it all is that we are struggling to control our borders, yet we are letting thousands of potential terrorists and cabbage pickers into our country on their own personal recognizance, but, really, what more can I say.

I can, however, salute NPR for their courage in broadcasting on such a controversial topic. They are an inspiration to us all.

If ignorance ever goes to $40 a barrel, I want drillin' rights on that man's head.

2005-07-12T15:51:00.000-07:00

So I'm walking through the farmers' market checking out the goods, when this guy walks up next to me, points to the basket of peaches in front of him, and says to the seller, "Are these peaches from Texas?" To which the seller responds, "No, they're from Georgia." Making a dismissive gesture with his hand, the guy says, "Keep 'em -- I only eat Texas peaches" and walks away.

This to me symbolizes one of the problems from being a Texan. Clearly, this guy either (1) felt that Texas peaches were superior to Georgia peaches or (2) recognized that Georgia peaches may be superior to Texas peaches, but wasn't willing to buy them because they weren't from the great, by-God State of Texas. I'd like to give him a break and assume the former is true and he is just ignorant, but after spending a couple of years in Texas I strongly suspect the latter best covers the situation. As I've often said, Texans will buy urine in a bottle if you slap a "Made in Texas" label on it. How else do you explain Shiner?

Irony: Getting killed by the "No Standing" sign you're standing in front of

2005-07-11T09:34:00.000-07:00

For those of you heading to law school (or for those of you in law school, considering law school, or fondly remembering all the alcohol you drank while in law school), I present you with the current ranking contender for future exam questions in torts: the "No Standing" sign homicide.

Scenario: Thug shoots at car, hitting driver, who runs into street sight, that then falls and hits bystander who is thereby killed.

The police are seeking the thug above for murder. I'm no expert on NY criminal law, but this is probably a felony murder case, that is, a case where an accidental death occurred in the commission of a felony.

Torts professors will likely have fun getting their students to channel Cardozo in answering some question regarding the civil liability of the shooter under Palsgraf. My advice, should you be facing a torts exam, would be to email this scenario to Milbarge, wait for him to answer, and then use said answer as the basis for any potential tort question.

2005-07-08T15:16:00.000-07:00

1. Tropical Storm Cindy and Hurricane Dennis are causing trouble in the Southeast this week. Share a natural disaster story.

Hundreds of years ago, when I was in college, Hurricane Hugo struck in South Carolina and began working it's way up the coast. My school was in the Virginia mountains, but the rest of my family were in Charlotte, NC, which ended up being directly in the storm's path. I remember getting ready to hit a party and having my mother call to describe tall trees bent so far that their tops were touching the ground.

After leaving Charlotte, Hugo headed right for us. Classes were cancelled early (for no apparent reason) and my fraternity actually planned a Hurricane Hugo Party, with a banner and everything. Alas, it was not to be. Hugo bounced off the mountains and headed back toward the coast, and we were left to party in a mild drizzle.

I remember going over to a friend of mine's house the next morning, and he had the TV on. The station had planned to show a seniors' golf event from Charlotte, but couldn't due to the devastation. I can still see the camera shots of huge trees laying across the fairway. It wasn't until that moment that I realized how badly Charlotte had been nailed. My parents went without electricity for several cold weeks, and were really unable to leave the neighborhood for some time due to the fallen logs.

Ok, so that was more a boring, vicarious natural disaster story. Sue me.

2. What is your favorite work of art?

Just kidding. I generally love anything by Van Gogh:

3. Do you squeeze the toothpaste tube from the middle or the
bottom?

From the middle, I guess. I'm not really OCD like that.

4. What is your favorite "cult" film?

I have to pick a favorite??? How about a few of my favorites?

OK, I lied; this is my favorite:

5. Would you go into space if given the chance? Where would you
go?

I don't know. I guess it would depend on how you got me up there. I mean, if I were in a rocket, I suppose it would be cool, but if you just tied me up and sat me on a huge catapult that would blow. Especially since I bet it's cold in space. And no one can hear you scream.

I'll take my stand.

2005-07-06T16:55:00.000-07:00

For your reading pleasure, here's a damn interesting article on the dulcet Southern dialect, its origins and future. As the author eventually notes, many of the words that were used in our agrarian past are gone, but I recognize a few from my grandparents (I don't use "snapbeans," but contrary to the author's implication a "mosquito hawk" is not a dragonfly, my friend). Of course, none of the article can explain to me why my dialect is generally undetectable, unless I'm talking to someone with a Southern dialect (or am angry). My wife points out that I sound like an extra from the Dukes of Hazzard when I talk to my mom, but as soon as the conversation's over, the honey falls from my tongue.

The author notes that, in places such as Dallas, the fine distinctions in how Southerners pronounce their vowels are fading away under an onslaught of foreigners, both foreign and domestic. Part of me accepts that this is the way of things. Contrary to the beliefs of the Southern Agrarians, there can be no return to our landed past. Urbanization is more than a fact, it is, I believe, a cultural absolute -- we can no more return to our rural, communal past than we can undiscover electricity. Another part of me, however, remains melancholy for what we lost in the trade. Gone are the sense of community, control, and belonging of our past, replaced by convenience, abundance, and action.

As I mature, I find that I miss the safety of the known, the quiet, and the secluded more and more. For this reason, my wife and I have decided to quit living in downtown Dallas and remove ourselves to a near-rural community 25 miles away. While I dread the commute I will have to face, that dread is more than outweighed by the thought that I will have nearly an acre of land and be able to hear crickets at nights and june bugs during the day. I want to have my children, should I ever have any, have the benefit of not being raised in the city. I want to have my weekends feel like I'm a million miles from work.

Who knows, maybe I'll even start talking like I useta could.

There ought not to be a law

2005-07-06T08:52:00.000-07:00

Years ago, I was doing some political work in Oklahoma for a pretty savvy political operative. In out time together, we would often wax on the state of the world, its ills and cures. One day over lunch he said that he had a perfect example of what was wrong in most legislatures.

In his younger days, my friend had been a campaign consultant on a number of state legislative races in Iowa. One of his candidates was a conservative politico who had never run for office, but was a committed and effective candidate. During the race, the candidate would often complain in speeches and appearances about unnecessary legislation and incessant government regulation. She stated that she was committed to getting government out of the lives of Iowa citizens and businesses. With the assistance of my friend, she rode this message to victory against a sitting Democrat legislator.

Fast forward a couple of months. The new legislature is now in session and my friend is reading his morning paper when he glances at an article about some bill that would outlaw the use of plastic holders for six packs. It seems the tree huggers were up in arms about the potential species-ending threat these 6-holed menaces were having on the local bird populations, members of which were apparently sticking their heads in the discarded holders and strangling themselves. My friend could only shake his head. More useless regulation that was going to drive up the cost of doing business for a sector of the economy, as well as the cost of buying a six pack of Coke or Bud Light, with no discernible benefit. Reading down he was shocked to discover that his winning candidate was the author of the legislation. In disbelief he called her office and asked her what she was doing. How could she, after passionately arguing against regulation, make her first bill such a useless expansion of red tape? Her reply: This is just a little bill that was a concern of some of my constituents, and I love birds and don't want to see them hurt.

This, my friend told me, was the ultimate undoing of the Conservative Movement in this country. Pet causes and good ideas often outweigh general principles. Many legislators claim to dislike regulation, but support individual regulatory bills because they are good ideas. Nobody wants senior citizens to go hungry, so as a result we have a creaking, over-burdened, and eventually doomed Social Security system. Next thing you know, we're forcing businesses to redo all of their packaging at a cost of thousands of dollars to save a bird or two. Legislators oven lament the problem, but are unwilling to do anything because, well, they need to be promoting new legislation because that's what they were elected to do, right? They need "Results" in flashing neon.

A small human interest story in today's news has me thinking about this problem again. Some hack Republican legislator, Rep. Tom Stevenson, in Pennsylvania is so desperate for new regulations that he is actually trolling his constituents for new and exciting ideas to grind the gears of individual freedom. He has created the wittily-titled "There Ought to be a Law" contest, whereby his constituents can vie to see who comes up with the prettiest piece of red tape.

And his constituents have responded. Well, at least one 11-year old has responded. It seems young Marc McCann is troubled by animals sticking their heads out of car windows that he wants the government to restrain their owners. It seems that Master McCann is worried that a sign might hit the animal in the head (well, I suppose it could be a giraffe) or that the animal, fighting millions of years of evolution, would jump from the speeding vehicle. Perhaps he recalls the wisdom of Jack Handy, who stated, "Better not take a dog on the space shuttle, because if he sticks his head out when you're coming home his face might burn up." Whatever the case, while there is no actual documented problem here that needs to be solved, Little Marc has a concern, Rep. Stevenson has a crusade, and it may end up that all Pennsylvanians will be forced to box up their pets before taking them for a nice drive to the doggie park, or will be required by law to try to put a seatbelt on their cat (a feat I would actually like to see performed).

The road to hell is well paved.

2005-07-01T16:09:00.000-07:00

1. Is Tom Cruise correct that we're not alone in the universe?

I suppose that's safer that the question "Is Tom Cruise proof that we're not alone in the universe?" For the sake of discussion, I'm going to read the question to be asking about space aliens. The answer to the asked question is, as with most things said by Tom Terrific, "no."

Years ago I read Innumeracy by John Allen Paulos, in which he used math to look at interesting situations and theories, much like Steven Levitt did with economics in Freakonomics. In one of the chapters, Paulos explained using numbers and odds how astronomically small the chances are of sentient life developing on other planets and coming to Earth. As the last phrase denoted, the question being explored was whether we have been visited by space aliens, not whether they exist.

Logically, the latter is more probable than the former. Theoretically, life could have spawned on another world, evolved (if you believe that sort of thing), reached a level of technological knowledge far superior to our own, but the odds that they would have achieved all this and been at their civilizations zenith at this very moment, as opposed to 2 billion years ago, mastered faster than light travel, and came on over to make spirographs on a cornfield in Iowa is ludicrous.

Those who believe in space aliens have to use ignorance as their basis. Why have we never had a verified alien visit? Because, dude, they have, like, a cloaking device. Or maybe because we aren't "advanced" enough. The nearest star to the solar system is over 4 light years away. The closest planet is much farther than that. Why would aliens spend years to fly to Earth to anal probe some drunk redneck? Because, man, they have, like, faster-than-light drive and can get here in, like, seconds.

It's all crap. We're a freakish anomaly. Live with it.

2. What is a fashion trend that you would like to see go away, and what is a fashion you would like to see come back in style?

Go away? Where do I start? Right now, I'm stuck on the stupidity of the faux hawk. Or if that's not "fashion" enough for you, I'm looking forward to the death of idiots wearing basketball jerseys over t-shirts. What's that all about, anyway? Every weekend, without fail, I see a group of out of shape guys all sporting this "look" -- not to play basketball, mind you, but to hit a bar and, presumably, to try to score. I say, be brave. Quit hiding your feelings and start sporting that wife beater.

What do I want to come back in fashion? Daisy Dukes. And I'm clearly about to get my wish.

3. I was going to ask what city will win next week's vote on the host of the 2012 Olympics, but everyone knows it's going to be Paris, so I decided to tweak it: What city that you have visited (or lived in) would be a good Olympic host city, and why?

I want to see Daytona Beach land a Winter Olympics, because (1) sports are all about challenge and (2) I hate the friggin' cold.

4. Happy Canada Day to our readers in the Great White North! In light of that holiday, and our own upcoming Independence Day, tell us your favorite Independence Day memory. (And yes, those of you in other nations can use whatever national holiday you celebrate.)

I think it has to be the year that we rounded up all the British people in town and hanged them. Go America!!!

Actually, my fond July 4th memories concerned my family reunions at Lake Sinclair in Georgia. Good food, good family, skiing and bottle rocket fights. Isn't that what our boys froze their asses off for at Valley Forge?

5. The Supreme Court ruled this week on one set of commandments, but we want to hear yours. What are the Ten Commandments of [X]? Pick a topic and reveal its ten most important rules. Phrasings with "shalt" appreciated but not required.

Man, is it me or have these #5 questions been a complete asswhip lately? Yeah, this is going to have to wait. But as Zod as my witness, I will answer it!

Come on in, boys, the water's fine.

2005-07-01T15:12:00.000-07:00

The last election baked me on politics. I'm like the alcoholic who returns to the bottle, in that every couple of years I actually start paying attention to the political scene again only to wake up hungover. I know from experience that it's all that sweet talk. The GOP candidates are just using me for my body -- they'll tell me anything to get me into bed. But when the morning comes, they're out the door before the sun rises -- heading out to play kisseyface with the 40-odd percent who didn't vote for them in an attempt to win EVERY SINGLE VOTE next time.

For awhile there, I wondered if this time would be different. Maybe Bush is a good guy, I thought; maybe he will flower without the threat of an election. Yeah, and maybe if frogs had wings they wouldn't bump their asses when they hopped.

All those "conservatives" who lined up behind Bush did so for one alleged reason -- no matter how bad he was, we'd at least get solid individuals nominated to the SCOTUS. I told them they were only setting themselves up for a heartbreak, but they didn't believe me. Now the body of Sandra Day O'Connor isn't even cold, and they're already in full crisis mode concerning a possible pro-abortion Gonzales nomination.

Oh, well. Better late than never. It's going to be a long summer.

Would you help me to carry the stone?

2005-06-28T22:00:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about friendship lately, what with being off my meds and all. I've come to the conclusion that friendship is an odd concept. Odder even than love. I mean, in love you're at least in the same room with the whole sex thing. Let's face it, if men could only achieve orgasm with, say, vacuums, we'd have massive electric bills but we wouldn't even speak to anything with breasts.

But that doesn't explain friendship, or why we're friends with the people we are friends with. Or even if we are even friends with the people we are friends with. For instance, what's up with that guy at work who always tags along when you and Jim and Steve go to T.G.I.F. for lunch? You know, Marc from accounting. He seems to be tight with Steve, so he's always there when you are. You would never call Marc on your own, because, well, the guy's kind of a tool and has the social skills of a drunken grizzly, but because he's friends with your friends, you have to be friends by proxy. What is that?

I mean, it's not like you are friends with Jim and Steve, anyway, right? Oh, sure, y'all eat lunch together all of the time, and every now and then you hit Hooters after work to have a few beers and check out the talent, but if you could find a job where they didn't treat you like crap, you'd be out the door and ol' Jim and Steve would be a distant memory within minutes.

My "friend" Paul introduced me to the proper name for these individuals: location friends. Roughly translated, these are people that you would never be friends with but for your forced co-existance -- they are co-workers, generally, but they may be your neighbors or people who hang out at your favorite bar. There are times when they resemble friends, perhaps when you even think they are your true friends, but they are no more your true friends than that stripper who's begging you for a lap dance is your date.

At least you always have your true friends -- you know, those true-blue few who have seen you through thick and thin. You went to college together, laughed together, got arrested together -- these are your compadres, your amigos. Of course, you only see Billy at Christmas ever since he took that job on the West Coast, and even though Brian is in town, y'all never hang because he's got 2 little girls now. You should probably call more or make a special effort. I mean, a friend would, wouldn't they? Of course, the phone works both ways . . . dicks.

Well, what about your girlfriend/fiance/wife? Didn't you marry your best friend? Face it, if you weren't attached to a penis the only way your wife would let you in her house would be to fix the cable. Besides, could you ever be close friends with someone who thinks "Tinkers-to-Evers-to-Chance" is the title of a boyband album?

Elvis, Mitzy, or Snowball? If you fell down paralyzed and alone with them, they would eat you eyeballs first. Probably within the hour.

Well, what about co-bloggers? They know the real you, not the fake one you show to people in the so-called "real" world. *cough*blowjob!*cough* Yeah, quit posting, cowboy. Within 3 weeks, your closest internet friends will be going "Larry who?"

Face it, Mark Twain was right when he said,

Life itself is only a vision, a dream. . . . Nothing exists . . . (not) God, man, This World, the stars ... all a dream . . . Nothing exists except empty space and you-and you are not you-you are but a thought-a vagrant thought, a homeless thought-wandering forlorn among the empty eternities.

Damn, I gotta quit drinking bourbon and listening to Pink Floyd. Or should I say, my friends bourbon and Pink Floyd.

So much for our reputation as hard on crime.

2005-06-25T20:47:00.000-07:00

If you're rich and/or and want to commit a crime, go to California. If you're not, you may want to consider Ft. Worth, Texas where it is possible to plead "guilty" to a crime and still have a jury find you "not guilty."

Tom Cruise, Ph.D. in Psychohistory

2005-06-24T16:57:00.000-07:00

You know, I always thought Tom Cruise was a bit of a nutball, but after his interview with Matt Lauer on the Today Show, I'm firmly convinced he's just an idiot.

So, what did we learn? First, we learned through his incessant mantra that he is right because knows "the history of psychiatry," that he will accept the word of anyone who claims knowledge of an issue.

Second, we learned that Mr. Cruise lacks the mental tools to distinguish logical fallacies. Note the following exchange:

TOM CRUISE: Matt, but here's the point. What is the ideal scene for life?

TOM CRUISE: Okay. Ideal scene is someone not having to take anti-psychotic drugs.

MATT LAUER: I would agree.

TOM CRUISE: Okay. So, now you look at-- and you go okay. A-- a departure from that ideal scene is someone taking drugs, okay. And then you go, okay. What is the theory and the science behind that, that justifies that?

His comments appear to assume that a perfect person would not take anti-psychotics, and therefore anyone taking them would be moving away from perfection. That is logically similar to saying that, since the "ideal" would be not to have a puncture wound on your body, therefore people shouldn't have tracheotomies. Sure, taking anti-psychotics would be bad if you're in an "ideal" situation, but those taking the drugs are far from an ideal place in their lives.

So, he believes anyone with apparent knowledge and he has trouble with logical reasoning. Hmmm, can't imagine how the Scientologists got this guy.

My advice to Mr. Cruise is that he should study "the history of psychiatry" a little less, and "the use of rhetoric and logic" a little more.

2005-06-24T15:40:00.000-07:00

From the BTQ boys, long may they ride:

1. What's your favorite season?

Easy. Baseball season. What's not to love about summer??? I mean, besides the humidity, scalding temperatures, and mosquitoes the size of model airplanes. Summer is sunny days at the beach/lake, playing league softball, barbecuing, chicks in bikinis, sunlight until 9 p.m., no school, etc.

2. Do you have a green thumb?

Quite. I have plants all over my loft -- even hanging from the sprinkler system 15 feet in the air. I am quite attentive, and for that reason I can grow most anything but ferns, which I tend to kill by overwatering.

Unfortunately, my skill don't transfer to people. I've killed several roomates by not giving them enough sun or burying their roots too deep.

3. What is your favorite sport to watch? What is your favorite
sport to play? Do you have a sports hero?

Unlike 99% of the world, I can sit and watch baseball all day, yet rarely do because I'm running around. I miss the days when I had time to catch a couple of games on a Saturday.

The best sport to play is rugby, hands down. I was introduced to the sport in law school and played some after graduation with a local team. I'm not a great rugger, but damn is it fun. It's like an organized adult league of "Kill the Man with the Ball."

My sports hero is Dale Murphy from when I was young enough to have a hero. I grew up in Atlanta watching Murphy and the rest of the Braves lose season after season. Even 20-odd years ago, sports stars were beginning to look decidedly human (as compared to today, when the love of the game has been all but replaced by greed and ego), but Murphy was a fantastic role model. He was a great player, he was a team player, and he is a good man. Hell, in Georgia he was so clean that he did milk commercials. I wish we had more like him playing today.

4. Which would you rather be: Mayor, Governor, Senator, or President?

Tough call. I worked in politics for years, both federal and state, but my heart has always been in the state capitals or "laboratories of democracy." Being mayor is a pointless and thankless job, unless you're the mayor of a major city, while being President is just too much stress. That narrows the field down to Governor or Senator. I would certainly prefer to be a legislator than an executive, so Senator is looking good, but I really don't like living in D.C., which throws the race back open. If I could choose my state, then I would prefer to be Governor, but if I'm force to run here in Texas, I think I might as well move on to the U.S. Senate.

5. What are ten must-own items for single men and single women?

Hell, I'm not qualified to give advice to single men, much less single women. But that never stopped me before, so . . .

Men should have the following:

A good set of pillows - I've known too many single guys who are using the same pillow they did as a child, and it is now brown, flat, and just generally nasty. Invest $20 in a decent pillow, you cheap bastard.

A good set of towels -- See #1.

A grill -- the single guy's stove.

A well-worn baseball cap -- I see too many guys wearing new caps that make them look like they couldn't tell the business end of a Louisville Slugger from a wombat.

A pickup truck -- what are you a girl? Get out of that Maxima.

Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon/Johnny Cash's The Sun Years -- there is plenty of good Johnny Cash, but this is my favorite collection. There are many albums that should be in every guy's collection, but this sets the minimum for acceptable.

A copy of Atlas Shrugged -- mandatory metal, baby.

A decent pocket knife.

A bottle of decent wine -- because some chicks won't drink beer

A good right (or left) hook -- because sometimes life gives you lemons

What single women need (now there's a loaded question):

A gun

A six pack of good beer in the fridge -- because some guys won't drink wine.

F*ck-me pumps.

A toolbox (preferably with tools).

Ill put others down as I think of them.

10 minutes with : PBS

2005-06-23T12:49:00.000-07:00

NPR has been doing a running report on new ideas in nursing homes. While this is a tremendously vital area when it comes to improving the quality of life for many of the nation's elderly, it totally puts me to sleep. Therefore, I must draw upon other news sources, and since I watched about 10 minutes of The Daily Show last night, and since Jon Stewart the same level of neutral objectivity as do the journalists working for Morning Edition, I thought his show would be an appropriate substitute.

Imagine my surprise as Stewart brought out paleoliberal hack/"journalist" Bill Moyers to discuss, of all things, the evil Republican attempts to bring some degree of balance to the public airwaves. Lemme repeat that, Stewart brought Bill Moyers -- a committed left-winger and former PBS personality -- to discuss the objective nature of PBS. This is roughly equivalent to inviting a casino owner to discuss the pros and cons of gambling. Hell, even the World Socialist Web Site has his back on this issue.

The interview itself made me wonder, if I often do, whether some liberals are evil or just incredibly deluded. Being the great person that I am, I'm willing to give them the benefit of a doubt and call it the latter. From what I can tell from the interview, Moyers thinks that journalism is objective if (1) it takes a position counter to the "government line" and/or (2) journalists get both sides of a story.

The former assertion is almost too silly to address. Certainly, there wouldn't be any objectivity if the administration directly reported the news, but to assume the opposite is true is a logical fallacy and would result in a similar lack of objectivity. If not, then we should all be reading the New Socialist for accurate, unadulterated objectivity.

As for the latter assertion, Moyers (and the fawning Stewart) were just being downright disingenuous. There are many ways to influence the news other than just reporting one side of the story. The easiest way to influence content is by choosing to only report stories that are unflattering to a certain political viewpoint. Put another way, while an NPR listener would be likely to hear plenty of stories about some Bush action that is allegedly harming the "poor and disenfranchised," but good luck hearing stories about how some Democrat supported regulation is strangling small business or about how some new tax is killing economic growth.

Moyers, Stewart and their partisan ilk can continue to complain all they want that the Administration is attempting to turn PBS into an organ of the Republican Party, but until it isn't an organ for the Democrat Party their credibility will be a tad strained.

We're using the power of rock and roll to change the world! Woo!

2005-06-23T07:43:00.000-07:00

Noel Gallagher takes time off from his latest bender to speak out on the chances of Live 8 concert having any real effect on the G8 Summit:

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but are they hoping that one of these guys from the G8 is on a quick 15 minute break at Gleneagles (in Scotland) and sees ANNIE LENNOX singing SWEET DREAMS and thinks, 'F**k me, she might have a point there, you know?'

"KEANE doing SOMEWHERE ONLY WE KNOW and some Japanese businessman going, 'Aw, look at him... we should really f**king drop that debt, you know.'

"It's not going to happen, is it?"

If you agree with an idiot, does it make you an idiot? Or are you just riding the percentages? I'm so confused.

Give me a Sandwich and a Douchebag, and there is nothing I cannot do.

2005-06-22T15:36:00.000-07:00

In the spirit of public service, NDC reminds us that Miles Kendall is a douche.

Addendum: And he could never get into the Portland Yacht Club Racing ("PYC") in a million years.

Willie and Jesus and Me

2005-06-22T11:32:00.000-07:00

So I'm sitting in a bar around midnight last Saturday, when the owner of the place/bartender comes in to tell me that Willie Nelson is down the street. I, of course, called bullsh*t, but he was insistent that it was Willie.

So I walk out and look down the side street where he is pointing, and about 50 yards away is a guy standing next to a van who does look a hell of a lot like Willie. "That ain't him." I say, only slightly less sure of myself. "Go close an look," he replies.

So I walk down the road, but before I can get close enough, I accidentally wander into a group of young Christians intent on saving souls in the bar district (you gotta go where the sinners are). Fortunately, they were too busy casting a demon out of some black guy to screw with me. They've got him pinned to the wall of the bar and are laying hands on him, praying loudly for the demon to get out, while this guy's looking skyward with his eyes rolled back in his head. Realizing I'm in a weirdness zone, I immediately take a few steps forward in order to determine that, while he is the spitting image of the Red Headed Stranger, the man in question was not Willie, and then I high-tailed it back to my bar stool.

So I walk into the bar, and the bartender is grinning from ear to ear. "That wasn't Willie," says I. "I know, but did you get your soul saved out there?" he replied. The bastard had set me up. "Nope, they were too busy using the side of your restaurant to cast the demons out of some guy." "What? There'll be no saving souls on my property!" he said running out the door.

I guess I know where Jesus and Willie stand relatively with the man who pours my beers.

Here's the line, and here's you.

2005-06-21T12:30:00.000-07:00

OK, so you were involved in years of contentious feuding and one of the great ethical battles of this decade -- I can understand that you'd be pissed off. However, now you're just being a dick.

Addendum: After writing the above and making comments, I went back and re-read the linked story. Since the time I posted on this, the story has been rewritten with more of an emphasis on the husband's reasoning for his actions. It appears that the parents were notified regarding the burial after the fact. The re-write definitely places the husband's actions in a better light, but I still believe that he could have been the better man here.

Support Local Music

2005-06-20T10:23:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine is the lead singer in a band called Shanghai 5 who just released their first album, Under a Tent, Under the Full Moon . . ., this weekend. I normally wouldn't shill, but the stuff is really impressive. The group mixes smoky jazz, lounge music, and vaudeville for a really unique sound. Good stuff. If you're looking for something new, check out some clips here (I recommend Your Drama and Dead Man in a Motel Room).

Unfortunately, the band doesn't appear to be selling the album online at the moment, but if you're interested, shoot me an email and I'll set you up.

2005-06-17T13:12:00.000-07:00

1. Which relationship will last longer, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie ("Brangelina"), or Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes ("TomKat")?

I think anyone who knows their Bible can answer that question.

Hezekiah 2:1-5

1: In the latter days one shall rise from the ranks of a false god who wrote bad fiction. He shall be short and his nose big, but he will be beloved of many women and sodomites for the intensity he brings to the screen.
2: And lo, he shall take a much younger, cuter but less talented woman as his wife, and from her loins shall spring the Evil One.
3: And they shall name the Evil One, Hubbard, and he shall grow straight of teeth and short of stature.
4: Verily, the Evil One shall bring upon the earth 1,000 years of pain, suffering and misery, for during that time, flies will feed upon the flesh of the innocent, their noses will often run with mucus, the knowledge of daylight savings time will be lost from the minds of men, and many will forget their own phone numbers.
5: The parents of the Evil One will live long and shall spread the venom of their false god to the stupid and susceptible like seeds are sown among the cow turds.

Amen.

2. Less importantly, which will have nuclear bombs first, North
Korea or Iran?

I think that the competition will be fierce in this battle between two top competitors. In the end, however, I believe that North Korea will be the first to get a nuclear weapon, and think it will most likely come air mail from a silo somewhere in South Dakota.

3. What is your dream car? A silver 1957 Mercedes-Benz 300SL Gullwing. With mounted machine guns and booster rockets.

4. What book have you read the most times?

Hell, it's probably something like "The Little Engine that Could" or some other kiddie book that I read 600+ times a day for about two months when I was 3, until I moved on to sticking things up my nose. I don't often reread real books because, well, I've already read the book and there are a googolplex of literary masterpieces out there I haven't yet consumed. That said, I have read Watership Down 4 or 5 times since I was 7ish, and the LOTR series 6 or 7 times during that period. I also no longer stick things up my nose. Mostly.

5. Are you a matchmaker?

More of a flamethrower, actually. Before this year, I would have said "no" due to my strict policy of not involving myself in the personal lives of myself or others. Unfortunately for my policy, I accidentally introduced one of my oldest and best friends (male) to one of my closest law school friends (female), and now they decided to haul off and get hitched. They want to give me the credit for this turn of events, but I don't want it because with it comes the responsibility when they get a divorce down the line and they are feuding over who gets the stupid wagonwheel coffee table.

No man is esteemed for gay garments but by fools and women.

2005-06-15T08:30:00.000-07:00

Those who work with me know that I like wearing a tie about as much as cats enjoy wearing a leash. I guess when every guy starts working his first professional job, he enjoys putting on a suit for the first couple of months. You look good, and you feel like money. For those of us who don't give a crap about things like "advancement" or even "making a good impression," the thrill quickly fades as we realize that wool, even at it's thinnest, is both itchy and prone to cause spontaneous combustion on hot, summer days or at least make you sweat like a 10-year old at Neverland. What? Too soon?

Before I took up lawyering, I worked for a public policy organization in the greater Washington, D.C. disaster area. Our legal foundation was on the floor above us, and they hired this tool about my age to handle their P.R. He not only wore a suit every day, but had French cuffs with cufflinks cast with his fraternity letters. If this jackass had been any bigger a douche, he would have had to pay royalties to Massengill. Unfortunately, this part of my story has a sad ending. Although it has been nearly 6 years since I left the morally and, most important, financially bereft world of politics behind, Mr. White-collar-with-a-blue-shirt has still not been forcibly sterilized. As far as I know. I remember him suggesting to me that we should emulate rich people because they wear suits. Right. I'm sure Bill Gates spends his days and evenings in a a good three-button, poly/wool blend.

This all comes to mind because I am anticipating a swing in the general work casual/full armor pendulum this year. Every few years, one of the bigger law firms will decide to change their dress policy and, law firms being what they are, everyone else follows suit. Currently, Dallas is populated by casually dressed and slightly less irritable attorneys, but it only a matter of time before some white-shoe firm decides that its clients want their attorneys chained to their desks with silk ties, and then we all gotta take the wool out of mothballs.

My money says the shift back to business dress will begin happening this year. Not during the summer, because of clerks and heat, but likely when things cool down. I guess I should look into getting some ties.

Good Housekeeping

2005-06-13T16:08:00.000-07:00

If you are simple enough, life can be reduced to a mathematical formula, and I'm one simple bastard whose formula looks something like this: work + sleep + drink + blog = life. Unfortunately, I have seen my "work" scores rise dramatically in the past couple of weeks necessitating me to cut from something. Tough call. In other news, I haven't been blogging much lately, yet my hangovers are as common as ever.

On the downside, I haven't had the opportunity to keep up with my blog reading as I'd like, either. My philosophy has been to read a few blogs often instead of a lot of blogs infrequently. I would rather find a few blogs I like and develop a close, intimate relationship with the writers than be a cheap one-night stand all over the interweb. I feel like I'm not keeping up my end of the relationship, and I just want you to know that I can change, Baby. As long as it doens't take too much effort.

I haven't mentioned this, but I've added a "What I'm Listening To" section to your left. I know it's been there for weeks, but "Efficiency" ain't my middle name. Which is good, because "Mr. Efficiency" doesn't get the ladies hot. I'm in what can only be described as a heavy music phase, man, and I've decided to let you in on what I'm grooving to. Lately, I've been drawn toward alt.country, "classic" country, acid rock and early punk, but I have been dabbling all over the place. I only have one rule, I won't put an album up unless it's kid tested and mother approved. If there is something I should be kickin' live, give me the down lo, baby, and I'll dig it up.

Addendum: You can, of course, click on any album and be magically transported to more info.

I finally upgraded my home PC thanks to some prodding and spending by the Missus. I have replaced by '57 "Getoutandpush" Desktop with its 5k modem and crank-start hard drive with a sleek laptop and a cable modem. I'm not getting anymore blogging done, but my porn consumption is rising like the price on a barrel of OPEC dinosaur juice.

I don't talk about my job much, what with Jeremy Blachman covering most of the high points and all, but last week was a doozy. I flew all the way to Odessa for a deposition, got to the attorney's office to find that neither he nor his client were there . . . and I didn't hear from him until about 5 HOURS after the deposition was scheduled to start and I was back at the airport getting ready to turn in my rental car. He had a hokey excuse about misreading the notice, but his secretary had shown me his calendar so I knew he was full of crap.

Then I deposed another guy who admitted to taking methadone 15 minutes before the deposition started! Despite the soothing effects of this and some other narcotic he had taken a hour before, I still managed to unintentionally piss the guy off so much during the depo that he started clinching and unclinching his hands on the table. I actually took a break 20 minutes in the damn thing because he was clearly thinking about coming over the table at me. I had 50 lbs. on the guy, but I don't want to appear in front of a judge and explain why I beat the crap out of the opposition party with the 2005 Edition of the Federal Civil Judicial Procedure and Rules That said, you can only imagine how informative that deposition was. I swear he said, "I don't remember" over 500 times.

The best was when he tried to get a rise out of me. I'd been asking him about his ability to work (he's a former laborer now on social security disability) and at the end of the line of questioning I asked him what jobs he felt he could do. He gave a harsh laugh, looked at his wife and said, "Maybe I could do yours." What, and trade away a fulfilling life of sitting at home on disability watching "Hawaii Five-O" marathons and eating frozen pizza?

I watched the Dukes of Hazzard for the first time in probably 20 years last week. How the hell did they take such a simple cast in such a simple backdrop and keep that show fresh and original? I mean, it was the same damn plot every damn week, but it was always done in such a way to keep it interesting.

Also, I forgot how many times they jump the Gen'l Lee each episode. They must have spent a Donald Trump-ransom on Dodge Charger suspensions.

Friday Spies ©

2005-06-10T14:49:00.000-07:00

1. What is the earliest movie you remember watching in the
theater?

I don't watch movies in the morning. Maybe, like, 2:30 p.m.?

Oh, oh!!! I remember! The earliest movie I ever remember watching was at 3 a.m. I was out drinking in law school, when a friend of mine came in the bar. She was dragging some guy who was drunker than a monkey. Turns out that the guy worked at the local movie theater that was currently playing the first Harry Potter movie. Since we both wanted to see it, we convinced the nearly unconscious theater worker to let us in and start the movie . . . but not until after last call, of course. We ended up picking up 2 first year guys, 3 drunk undergrad chicks, and a bottle of rum on the way. One of the girls got sick before the movie started, and her friends took her home with the guys following the trail like bloodhounds. My friend and I sat in the theater alone, drinking rum and Cokes and watching the movie. I remember when I left the theater the sun was rising on a peaceful Thursday morning. Damn, I sometimes miss law school.

That is what you were asking, right?

2. If you could strike one word from the English language, which
word would you choose and why?

"Flatulence" should be dispatched forthwith, so that forevermore the soothing southern sounds will be referred to by one and all as "farts."

3. If you were a superhero, what would be your kryptonite?

Housework. Every time I'm asked to do housework, I suddenly get tired.

4. Would you rather win an Emmy, Grammy, Tony, Golden Globe, Oscar,
Pulitzer, or Noble Prize? What work would you win it for?

Alright, I'll cede to you that those up for an Emmy, Grammy, Golden Globe, or Oscar have much greater access to high quality, um, companionship from members of the opposite sex, but that would only be a selling point if my wife hasn't forbade me from, um, companioning with other women. I'll also grant that Tony nominees have much greater access to high quality, um, companionship from members of the same sex, but [author ponders tasteful way to finish this sentence, fails, and moves on hoping no one notices].

That leaves the Pulitzer and the Noble (sic). Now we have an interesting competition. I could never see myself winning a Noble (sic) for any scientific endeavor or economics, because then I would be condemned to a lifetime of nerdom, wedgies, swirlies, and doing dumber people's homework. The Noble (sic) Peace Prize sounds cool, but when you see that people like Yassir Arafat and Kofi Annan, it's clear that any idiot can get one. As for the Pulitzer, I wouldn't want to win one for journalism, because, although I am a lawyer, there are some things even I don't want to be associated with.

That pretty much leaves us the Pulitzer and Noble (sic) prizes for literature. Both are pretty prestigious and would, I'm sure, look good on the average mantle, but as I am a man of principle, the choice is easier. We live in a time where we need to be thinking globally. If we expect to grow morally and intellectually as a people, we need to embrace the oneness of man. Therefore, the international recognition of the Noble (sic) Prize for Literature is preferable to the American-centric Pulitzer Prize.

Really, the fact that the Noble pays $1,327,790 while the Pulitzer is worth a meager $10,000 has absolutely nothing to do with my decision.

5. What is your catch phrase? Don't have one? Then make one
up!

OK, I considered "Big Bucks, Big Bucks, No whammies, STOP!," "Champagne Wishes And Caviar Dreams," and "Up your nose with a rubber hose," but I settled on "F*ck me running!" No, I don't know what it means, but it always makes me smile.

10 minutes with : Dissolution Solution

2005-06-10T14:41:00.000-07:00

Today's story dealt with the Unorganized Territory ("UT"), the unincorporated sparsely inhabited area of northern Maine. Incorporated towns in the region are choosing to dissolve their corporate identity and join the UT due to rising taxes. In doing so, these communities are abandoning local self-government and relying on state legislature to act in their behalf.

The state government provides all government services for UT residents for much less expense because the costs are spread out among all of the residents of the UT. The irony here is that the state legislature is the main culprit behind the dissolution of these towns. Recent laws have contributed to the raising of taxes by forcing towns to hire for such positions as animal control officer and code compliance officers. While such costs could be easily diffused among 10,000 people, they provide a serious burden on 100 taxpayers.

Way to go, Maine. It's not often you get to see a state government regulate it's own history out of existence. I would attribute this whole thing as an attempt by the state legislature to make a grab for more representative power if it weren't for the following 2 things: (1) having towns dissolve brings no real benefit to the legislature but it does provide additional administrative headaches and (2) I have never known a state legislator forward-thinking enough to plan for this eventuality. Nonetheless, Maine's legislators should feel a little bit chagrined for regulating these towns out of existence, even if it was an unintended consequence.

It's the people of small-town Maine who I feel sorry for. By dissolving, these thinly-populated areas are losing a bit of their communal nature. However, I can't fault them for making a rational decision considering the lure or cutting property taxes by 1/2 to 2/3.

I guess taxes and regulations do have real world effects. Shocking.