Fun at Dubya's Expense (or "WHY HARRIET MIERS?")

Why, indeed . . .

Well . . . as I've recently discovered it is fun to commemorate small tragedies . . . I'll get in on this one, as well.

Make Me an Offer I Can't Refuse

I just completed what will be my final interview-- a late-comer to OCI. Final. No more.

Going in to this one my attitude was noticeably different. I have one job offer, which I've yet to accept come to think of it, that will fill half of my summer.

I was thinking I'd fill the other half with an unpaid judicial internship at the Federal district level.

So when I went in to this interview, I did so with none of the weight I'd carried into my others. Will this make a difference when they make a decision? Who knows!

The questions varied with this one, however. And if not the questions, the answers definitely did.

Interviewer1: When and why did you decide you wanted to become an attorney?

Misery: When I was twelve. Up to that point I'd wanted to be in the mob. And, well, Lawton, Oklahoma just isn't the best place to . . .

Interviewer1: To get the hard street education, right?

Misery: Exactly. But then I saw a mob movie with a lawyer as a prominent character and decided, "Hey, I can do that!"

Interviewer1: Do you remember what movie?

Misery: Mobsters. With Christian Slater and Patrick Dempsey. I wanted to be Meyer Lansky. Well, I mean . . . once I realized I couldn't be in the mob and I couldn't stand the sight of blood-- so being a doctor was out.

Interviewer2: But don't mobster's deal with blood?

Interviewer1: Not if you are the mob boss.

Misery: Exactly. Or the lawyer. Then you can just cover your ears and avert your eyes. Tell them you don't want to know.

Interviewer1: Do you know what Meyer Lansky was most famous for?

Misery/Interviewer2: No. What's that?

Interviewer1: He built Las Vegas. With the wars going on, he figured it'd be a perfect stopping-off place for the foot soldiers going back and forth.

Misery: See, good role model. He was a true innovator.

Interviewer1: Yeah. I just watched "Godfather 2" this weekend. Robert Duvall plays the consegliere. He was an attorney.

Misery: Then I guess I'm in good company.

I actually really enjoyed this interview. There was some chemistry going on there . . . if it were a blind-date, I would've invited her back to my place for a little of the "Godfather" trilogy . . . and, y'know, whatever else . . .

So what do you guys think? Will I get a "call-back"????

Or will I wake up tomorrow staring at a horse's head?

Fair-Weather Fans? The Sun is Shining!

I normally hate to write about sports on here given the fact I am NOT a sportswriter and those who actually read this blog on a regular basis probably don't do it on the basis of my knowledge of the sports world. 'Course, this won't necessarily be an entry entirely about sports either.

But if you didn't stop by to read about sports, baseball, or the Houston Astros . . . go ahead and scroll down. I have to take a short opportunity to comment on what happened last night.

I was raised a fan of anything Denver when it came to sports. And, as Denver didn't have a baseball team until I was about 14, I was also raised a big St. Louis Cardinals fan. A BIG St. Louis Cardinals fan.

Two of my favorite sports-related items are the 8x10 of Ozzie Smith I own along with my Mark McGuire jersey I purchased the year he broke the home run record. My other favorite item would be the football signed by the entire Broncos team during John Elway's last year--and the year of their second Super Bowl win.

Denver, a few years back, was -- and rightfully so -- named the #1 Sports City in the U.S. In Denver it is not uncommon to find orange & blue Christmas trees adorning living rooms in December. In Denver it is not uncommon to find those who still believe Orange Crush is the greatest soda ever made and they still have nearly 30-year-old bottles of it sitting on their mantle piece to commemorate the first great period of Bronco's football.

This zeal and faithfulness doesn't diminish as you put distance between yourself and Colorado.

So when I first moved to Houston it was rather easy to resist any temptation to follow the Astros. But then time passed.

And I got serious in dating a girl living in SE Houston and began volunteering/acting at a small theatre in NW Houston, both about 45 minutes from my home. This happened about the same time the '99 baseball season began. Having nothing better to listen to on my long commutes in the evening, I would listen to the 'Stros on AM740.

With every game won, my attention grew. With every game lost, it grew even more. Having come from the Denver School of Fanaticism involving sports, the criticism launched at the 'Stros during any post-losing-game show baffled me. They could be coming off of an 8 game winning streak and still you'd hear comments like:

"This is the Astros just showing their true colors."

"The last 8 games were just a fluke."

"The Astros just suck."

And yet the Astros were just as much then, as they are now, Houston's team.

I know sentimentality usually makes for tedious reading. So if you would prefer to avoid such, then you ought to move on to the next post. But I must get a little sentimental at this point.

That summer, that year, constituted both one of the best AND one of the worst years of my life. I was young, very much in love, had a good job, making a decent living, bought my first new car, and I was having alot of fun. Within a year it had all fallen apart and I would find myself trudging through the darkest days of my life.

Back to that summer, though . . .

Do you ever associate a particular memory with a certain smell, taste, or sound? Of course, everyone does. Well, I associate that entire summer with Astros' baseball because the sounds of their play followed me everywhere I went.

And the 'Stros played a fairly succesful season. I went to see them play two or three times. It was their last season in the 'Dome. The next season they opened in what was originally Enron Field.

As the regular season came to a close, my grandmother passed away after a long and arduous battle with cancer. Little did I know that with the end of that summer season, and my grandmother's death . . . so many things were soon to change.

The night of her funeral, I sat quietly at a computer in Denver with my tie hanging loosely around my neck and constantly hitting the "refresh" button to bring up the current pitch and game stats only to painfully watch as the Astros season came to an end in the fourth game against the Braves.

There is some part of me now that wants to think this year, this season, with this win . . . maybe things will turn out the way they should have back in '99. Maybe I can find that same contentment with life again, maybe I'll be able to stop worrying, maybe I'll start to have more fun. Maybe I'll get to watch the Astros win the World Series.

Back then it was a stretch to ask such a thing. Especially with their pitching. Now it almost seems necessary. It definitely seems possible.

I don't know. I'm certainly not the person I was back in the summer of '99. In fact, I think the change is fairly dramatic.

And I will never have my grandmother back, or lost love . . .

But my grandmother is in a much better place. And love, once lost, should probably stay there. If it was worth keeping, we would have done a better job of holding on to it the first time. Right?

Yet I still hope the Astros win. I have forgotten how to cry. As a man, tears become a memory of childhood. But I was able to squeeze out a few tears with the 'Stros victory. It is, after all, okay to cry if it is about sports.

I look forward to those tears again. Go 'Stros!

Someone Else for President

IM JUMPING SHIP. Given this President's propensity for disregarding the 10th Amendment (and he probably needs to read the first 9 again as well while he's at it), his policies of maintaining both a wide open wallet and even wider open borders, and his recent ASSENINE nomination of Harriet Miers . . . I AM JUMPING SHIP!

And you can commemorate this milestone in my life with this handsome t-shirt available only @ http://www.cafepress.com/MiM3.

(Is this corporate crap making you sick yet?)

In Lieu of an Actual Post

You know that "No" word I keep talking about . . . well, the Water Symposium is at hand and I am feeling the brunt of my inability to use it.

This is truly a cop out, but others do it (of course they have regular readers), soooo . . .

If you have any questions you'd like answered, now and forevermore, just leave a comment and/or e-mail it to me. My e-mail is on my profile which you can get to by clicking on the picture of the "Law Student" at the top right.

I've Lost My Widgets

Top Ten Law Review Titles(of last 20 years):

10. Douglass G. Boshkoff, Selected Poems on the Law of Contracts, 66 N.Y.U. L. Rev. 1533 (1991).

9. Erik M. Jensen, Critical Theory and the Loneliness of the Tax Prof, 76 N.C. L. Rev. 1753 (1998)

8. Robert F. Blomquist, Playing on Words: Judge Richard A. Posner’s Appellate Opinions, 1981-82—Ruminations on Sexy Judicial Opinion Style During an Extraordinary Rookie Season, 68 U. Cin. L. Rev. 651 (2000).

7. Scott M. Solkoff, If the Law is a Jealous Mistress, What Ever Happened to Pay Toilets? A Digest of the Legally Profound, 17 Nova L. Rev. 715 (1993).

6. Ronald Rychlak, The Lighter Side of the Green Movement: The Three Stooges as Early Environmentalists, 48 Okla. L. Rev. 35 (1995).

5. Neal Boortz, Open Season on Lawyers, 17 Nova L. Rev. 985 (1993).

4. Erik S. Jaffe, “She’s Got Bette Davis[’s] Eyes”: Assessing the Nonconsensual Removal of Cadaver Organs Under the Takings and Due Process Clauses, 90 Colum. L. Rev. 528 (1990).

3. Erik M. Jensen, The Heroic Nature of Tax Lawyers, 140 U. Pa. L. Rev. 367 (1991).

2. Gerald F. Uelmen, Id., 1992 BYU L. Rev. 335.


And finally . . .


1. Richard A. Posner, Goodbye to the Bluebook, 53 U. Chi. L. Rev. 1343 (1986).


Here is my challenge to 2L Law Review Students across the nation:

Be creative with the titles of your student comments this year. Let's put the "Revue" in "Review." Let's prove that we're not all overachievers, puckered so tight and wound so far we could explode at any moment.

Little honesty: other non-Law Review law students don't want to be around us not because they are jealous or threatened by what you consider your "superior intellect" . . . but because they are afraid they will be too close when we finally go off.

Take a cue from BuffaloWings&Vodka. As for balancing serious work with a laugh-out-loud-in-Oil&Gas-when-I-should-be-taking-notes humour, the man is a hero.

Together, we can all do our part

and make a difference

while only you can prevent forest fires

friends don't let friends drive drunk.

Amen.

How Can You Be "Somewhat" Anonymous?

Good question. I don't know.

And the more people that know who "Moonlighting in Misery" is, of course, the less I will feel free to do things like . . .

make fun of midgets and metrosexuals.

tell you I am actually 6'3" and look alot like Ryan Gosseling, but better.

pretend I am Harriet Miers' illegitimate love child, the product of an illicit short-term affair between her and George W. and that I know for a fact the real reason she's been nominated is because she is very good at keeping her mouth shut.

For the conservatives out there, that could at least give you some assurance where she stands on abortion . . . right? Maybe not.

Well, I know I definitely can't convince you that my torrid beginning is also the reason the state of Texas is paying for my education.

(Of course not, if that were the case I'd have joined my half-sister at UT-- if I could've afforded it.)

Oh . . . But, I will say this, mom does have a naked picture of Reagan above her bed. (I've seen it. But it's a young Reagan. When he was married to Jane Whats-Her-Name. Not bad. At least she has taste.)

Anways, so I have to watch what I say . . .

Afterall, if humor is a very powerful medium.

Then what the hell is this?



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A Letter to the High School Band Next Door

The following is a repost, originally posted October 6, 2004. Seeing as it is still as much a problem this year as last, however, I've decided to try reaching out to them again . . .

To Whom it May Concern:

Please, oh please, high school band people... have mercy on a 2L law student.

I live next to your fine high school-- right next door, as a matter of fact. And I'm not sure why you chose to move your marching band practice from the other side of the school to right outside my bedroom window... but for some reason, last night you did.

Yes. After a long hard day of studying, I thought I might lay down for an hour nap. You, however, had other plans.

Why do you wait until 6 o'clock in the evening to start practicing anyways? Back when I was in school, they practiced in the morning-- or, and here's a novel idea, right after school. Don't any of you have jobs? Family? Any other obligations beside the high school marching band?

Why?

At first, I must say, I laid there in bed and thought: "This band is pretty good." But then I realized that all you know how to play is about 20 seconds of the same song. Well, I assumed that is all you know how to play...

BECAUSE THAT IS ALL I HEARD FOR OVER TWO HOURS LAST NIGHT!!!!!

The same few bars of music... over... and over... and over. You played it with more brass. With no brass. With a good solid drum intro... with just drums. You played it fast. You played it slow. YOU PLAYED IT RIGHT OUTSIDE MY BEDROOM WINDOW!!

Now, at this point, I must give you a piece of advice: In order to impress the crowd Friday night, you must be able to get through an entire piece of music. It does help. It also helps if the music is recognizable. I spent the first 45 minutes playing "Name That Tune" to no avail.

I think I may go to the game Friday night. I can't wait until halftime. O, the sweet satisfaction I will have. See, as I figure it, one of two things may happen:

1. You get on the field and just march back and forth playing the same 20 seconds of that music over and over and over again. (Because that is what it looked like last night.) OR

2. You start off and look GREAT for the first 20 seconds... then, when you all realize that you never learned what to do next, all hell breaks loose. The brass section tramples over the wind instruments. The flag girls break formation and start goosing each other with the flags (I just hope no one loses an eye.) And the rythym section people, who are always known for their individuality and lust for attention, decide to each one break into a separate 10 minute drum solo. The chaos will be so sweet.

I am not a vengeful person. Really, I'm not. I just think you all should spend more time with your families. Tonight is Wednesday... go to church. Perhaps you can get a job. Do something.

Just please have mercy on the poor 2L law student next door.

The Long Kiss Goodnight

I'm pretty sure the kiss just ended. And someone got slapped . . .

"For five years, conservatives have stood by and defended this President through all of his mishandled foreign adventures, big-government budget-busting programs and laxity on immigration because we *knew* that he would come through for us in the moment of truth on the Supreme Court.

We were wrong. This nomination is inexcusable."

--from a comment left at www.confirmthem.com

It must have been that someone got a little free with where he wanted to put his hands.

I Love Adam Smith & Other Observations

I didn't know they were just handing out Supreme Court nominations now.

And, besides that, how come I am always the last one to get this information? Hmm? I mean, now I can gaurantee you I'll be at the very back of the line . . .

Probably right behind Marcia Clark. And that isn't a good feeling.

But then again, maybe if we can get some legislation passed to alter the judiciary--which isn't such a hair-brained idea given this President's lack of respect for the Constitution, [See George Will's recent column which I have linked to here], maybe --just maybe-- we can create a 6 month rotating shift for the Court.

Then the Court won't be so backed up on business and I can finally appeal that pesky small claims case made against me by taking it to the Highest Court in the Land. Oh, and I'll finally have a chance to wreak havoc with the Constitution as the 9th person on the Court.

For at least 6 months, that is.

Speaking of "small claims," I am beginning to agree with an editorial I read a few months ago about putting Judge Judy on the Court.

Why the hell not?! She has more judicial experience than Ms. Miers and can you imagine how much fun the oral arguments would be with Justice Judy sitting on the wing? She would definitely make up for Thomas' silence.

'Course I don't know if Judge Judy is conservative. But that isn't quite the point right now . . .

The point is experience, achievement . . . being worthy of a LIFETIME APPOINTMENT TO THE PINACLE OF THE JUSTICE SYSTEM.

Of course I'm not arguing Miers is not conservative enough.

For all I know she has a poster of a naked Adam Smith tacked up above her bed, her two St. Bernards are named Barry and Goldwater, her fish she's dubbed William, F., and Buckley, and her idea of a Saturday night good time would be the midnight bombing of abortion clinics . . .

I really don't care how conservative she is.

I just think there were so very many others who have proven their merit and deserve such an honor.

I sincerely hope this is a joke. Or an ingenious political ploy.

And I also hope the potentially-future Justice Miers never reads this post.

I can just picture oral arguments before the Court one day.

Miers: Allow me to interrupt the discussion of your client's First Amendment rights for one moment, Mr. Moonlighting.

Misery: Yes, Madame Justice?

Miers: Really, Mr. Moonlighting, a naked picture of Adam Smith??

Misery: Yes, Madame Justice. It was a reference to your admirable adherence to the ideas of fiscal conservatism.

Miers: Well, it was not funny, Mr. Moonlighting. I'll have you know I have never had a naked picture of Adam Smith above my bed . . . it was Ronald Reagan.

Meet Harriet Meirs

Meet Harriet Meirs - Your next Supreme Court Justice.

Wow, I Really Haven't Got This "No" Thing Down . . .

N-n-n-n

n-n-n-nnnnnn-n

ooooooo

nnn-n-n-oooooo

nnnoooooo

NO. Damn it.

Law Review is not more important than my passing my classes . . .

I'll keep telling myself that.

(And, shhhh, don't tell anyone else I said that . . . )