We Elected Him, Do We Have to Listen to Him Too?

I like to spend my Thursday nights by starting off with a little of the zany antics of Paris and Nicole--

After I'm thoroughly assured they have embarrased themselves enough to satisfy the pleasures of a million gawking rubber-neckers out in TVLand (yours truly, included) . . .

I will then turn over and watch dirty, half-naked people attempt to score a meal of grilled shark in crystal clear waters with nothing but a pointy stick and a whole lotta determination.

(It reminds me of Law School. And I don't feel so bad.)

Then I like to end my evening with the Donald. Why? Because he is the Donald: every man wants to be him and every lady wants to date him.

(Ha!)

But last night my evening did not go quite as planned.

Let me ask you: I voted for him, do I have to listen to him too?

The country is not currently being attacked. And you are not up for re-election, Mr. President.

Nothing will ever be done to REALLY save Social Security. (C'mon, it is -- afterall -- WASHINGTON . . . ) And I think I may practice Oil & Gas Law here in the great state of Texas, I don't want the price of Gas to fall anytime soon.

(Oh, and I drive a car that runs off of Propane-- which I can buy for about $.80/gallon less. Hank Hill would be proud.)

So why burden me with your fancy dreams about a "solvent Social Security system" and "gas that people can afford" ???

This is America, Mr. President!!

Yes, we want cheap gas! Yes, we want to be able to eat during retirement!

But NOT, Mr. President . . .

If it interferes with my getting to see two blonde bimbos make absolute fools of themselves.

I can read about the other in the newspaper. It is, you forget, May Sweeps.

The bane of my existence

Last week we completed and turned in our Appellate Briefs for Legal Practice: part deux.

As a result of the mental anguish I have been so burdened with, I have found myself quite unable to even utter a word on the subject, much less revisit it with much detail . . .

I now make an attempt.

First off-- the Bluebook.

WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE THE EDITORS OF THAT ------- THING THINKING???

Reading the Bluebook is like trying to decipher the ancient Aramaic language in the Dead Sea Scrolls and putting together a coherent account of the Gnostic Gospels, including the fact that huge pieces of them seem to be missing and its your job to guess what ought to be there . . .

In other words: it doesn't make a bit of sense. None. Not a bit. And I am supposed to be using THAT to write my piece de resistance.

Who in their right mind decided that proper writing requires the use of different types of (of all things) DASHES?! Is it an "M" dash that is needed? Or an "N" dash?

ugh.

What's more -- When you immerse yourself in these things, it bleeds through into your sleep.

I SWEAR, over the course of 4 nights, I would lay on my side facing left and I would argue the case in my sleep one way. Then I would wake up and turn over and find myself in my dreams arguing the opposite way.

When I told someone that in law school you “eat, sleep, and breathe the law” . . . silly me, I thought that was just a metaphor.

Goodnight, dear diary.

The Office

It must be, hands down, the best comedy on television.

I don't care if I have a final on Wednesday, and I didn't start studying for it until 3:00 Tuesday afternoon . . . I will take 30 minutes to watch Steve Carell portray nearly every boss I have ever had.

(Which begs the question: is it a requirement that a person be completely dense and clueless before becoming a mid-level manager?)

I am looking forward to the episode where Steve Carell decides to implement the "office awards" and he starts handing out cheap dime-store koozies and hats imprinted with the company logo, "Dunder-Mifflin," on them. Then everyone returns to their desks to complain about the crap they'd just had doled out to them while Dwight plots to steal Jim's "fruit-of-the-loom" t-shirt with the iron-on logo and replace it with his own "Dunder-Mifflin Paper" bumper-sticker.

Of course, at the end, Steve Carell's character will confidently confide to the camera: "Yeah, I think I did good today. Look at them out there enjoying their awards. It was definitely a big morale boost. Oh, yeah, we'll do it again next quarter."

Hmm.

Steve Carell in The Office 

TODDLER PROPERTY LAWS

In honor of the impending finale to my Property course, I am posting the following for my enjoyment:

TODDLER PROPERTY LAWS

1. If I like it, it's mine.

2. If it's in my hand, it's mine.

3. If I can take it from you, it's mine.

4. If I had it a little while ago, it's mine.

5. If it's mine, it must never appear to be yours in any way.

6. If I'm doing or building something, all of the pieces are mine.

7. If if looks just like mine, it's mine.

8. If I think it's mine, it's mine.


What is most funny is that given the "bundle of sticks" approach and, of course, Adverse Possession, much of this could be included in my Property Outline for class.

Hmmm . . .

I wonder if I could possibly work at least two of these in two my final, and still make an "A." It'd be interesting to try.

BarelyLEGAL Blogging

Just when I was beginning to lose focus because BuffaloWings&Vodka has decided to whore himself away as Editor-in-Chief of the UTLaw Review instead of posting on a regular basis . . .

I receive an e-mail from "Russ" of the BarelyLEGAL blawg.

And I am introduced to the best thing in the blawgosphere since Mr. Wings&Vodka finally admitted that his harmless "Midnight Campus Walks" are anything but harmless . . .

Now I think I may have enough sanity to get through finals.

I would have to suggest to Russ & Mike, however, that they examine the habits of "Old Guy" insofar as his love life is concerned when he comes to law school single. From some shallow observations, he appears to attempt to relive the life of "Frat Boy," while chasing "Hot Girl" and eventually settling for "Desperate Girl." Unfortunately, even "Desperate Girl" isn't . . . well, i'll leave it at that.

I personally really like "Old Guy." How about "Old Woman," though? She always has an answer, even if you don't remember asking a question.

What would Law School be without all these different personalities? MedSchool, maybe? I don't think I could deal.

For too long people have been telling you that you're a failure just because you fail . . .

Don't let all that negativity get you down. Failure is a humanitarian response.

If you don't fail, someone else has to. Each time you fail, you give them a chance to succeed. You're a nice guy.

Remember, if at first you don't succeed, you may have found a lifestyle you can live with.

-- From Well, Duh! Daily Calendar, April 13, 2005

Back to Reality

Law School is a Crystal Palace.

And being here, looking out on the world through the distorted view of these glass walls, I begin to believe some things about life that simply aren't true.

Such as? Well, such as -- if you are diligent, if you work hard, if you know your "stuff," then you'll get ahead. And this doesn't depend upon exigent circumstances outside of ones immediate control.

Hmmph. Now, for everyone outside of this twisted little paradise for over-achievers, the truth is quite the opposite.

That is where I think we Republicans oft-times get confused. We like to tout the line that, "work hard, do good, you'll be successful." When it simply isn't so simple.

I am where I am because I was blessed with an ability that has absolutely nothing to do with "hard work." In the grand scheme of things, though, this ability is still at the lower end of the Life's Totem Pole.

I have still had to work harder, think quicker and scheme more . . . because I wasn't blessed with certain other helpful "things" many of my colleagues enjoy.

Money? We was po'. Influence? Nada.

Life just doesn't resemble the masterpiece we've painted in our minds. And, yes, Republicans are idealists, too.

That brings me back to reality . . .

The last two nights I have competed with a partner in Tech's "1L Moot Court" competition. I have participated very little in these competitions up to this point as I simply have no desire to be a member of "the Board." However, I wanted the opportunity to test my ability in a mono-y-mono duel of wits with the judge.

My partner, however, is very serious about earning a position with this organization. It is in reflecting upon his dissapointment that I was brought back to reality . . .

I knew my cases. I knew my law. I had well-memorized my facts. I even went so far as to find the dissipation rate of crack-cocaine in the average individual. My partner, for the same reasons related to the facts of the case, called the hospital to speak with them about the relevance of information in a new-mother's medical records.

The opposing counsels . . . misstated facts (and we called them on it), accused US of misstating facts (and we corrected them), misread the cases (and I pointed this out), misapplied the law (and I brought this up) . . . at one point one particular opposing counsel even went so far as to directly contradict an important argument made by his side that was a part of the record. (And, of course, this did not go unnoticed either when I "brought it to the court's attention"). They all showed a lack of real, deep preparation.

Yet, alas, they advanced and we did not.

It was a disappointment to my partner. It was not to me. I wanted to go home and sleep.

It was surprising to me. It was not to my partner. He says as soon as we stood up, the judge was never truly paying attention.

I could probably continue on in my thoughts about this but I will not. It does no one any good. And any more than what I have already stated, I'd be a Complainer.

We wouldn't want that.

Friday is the meeting to discuss getting on Law Review. That is where I want to be, and I believe I have a fairly good shot -- unless they changed the prerequisite for participation to, "must have nice smile, cute butt, great legs, and ability to pound alcohol like there is no tomorrow."

If they did, I definitely won't complain . . . so long as they'll make an exception for me.

* * * * * * * *
On another note, at the encouragement of several people I have decided to work towards a joint degree in law and science. They seem to believe that over the course of the next two short years I can complete my J.D. AND get my Masters in Crop Science (otherwise known by its more glamorous description, "plant genetics")

I have one small problem, however. I lack even a basic technical background in science. So in order to do so I will also have to "catch up" with 2 or 3 undergrad courses.

Still, this is quite exciting. I have always been enthralled by science, I have always loved the law. "Two great tastes that taste great together"? We'll see if I can do it.

It wouldn't hurt to try.

Mock Laughter

Due to my empty-handed summer job search, I have scheduled a MOCK INTERVIEW with Dean Career-Services to take place this morning.

The thing is, though . . .

With my abysmal showing thus far, I wouldn't be surprised if two weeks from now I receive a MOCK LETTER to inform me that the good Dean has chosen to offer my MOCK JOB to someone else.

A MOCK 2L, nonetheless . . .

Ha ha.

Perhaps the good side is I think I may have found my sense of humour. The problem is I can't share the joke.

But if you can't laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at? Oui, mes amies?

Oh, and I love these shoes I bought for the interviewing--

Everytime I put them on I hear:

"Well, you can tell by the way I strut that I'm a ladies man . . . "

Stayin' Alive, Stayin' Alive

The Home Stretch

After a nearly week-long hiatus from posting, the odds that there will be more such hiatuses (or should the plural form be "hiati?") in my near future are fairly decent.

We have entered the final stretch of what has been a rather speedy semester. One month from today I will be hunkered down and earnestly attempting to do nothing but study for the finals.

This is it, mis compadres bonitas . . . the grades I get out of this semester have the potential of determining the course of the rest of my adult life.

At this point I tentatively stand in the top 10%. Will I be here come June 1? Will I have any interest from potential employers when Fall OCI ("on campus interviewing") begins?

"Will Batman be able to use the laser on his belt to free himself before being lowered into Joker's vat of boiling hot caramel?"

"Will Robin reach the Commissioner before Gotham City Library is taken over by Catwoman's robotic amazon women?"

"Tune in tomorrow. Same Bat-time, same Bat-channel."

I have no idea.

I have all but given up on finding a legal job here in Lubbock for the summer. Therefore, I have resigned myself to studying the intracies of Income Tax Law and Professional Responsibility during the dog-days of June and July.

That won't be so bad, however. I will get to learn how to shield mine and my client's earnings from the government WHILE being educated as to the ethical extent which I may go in doing so. Isn't the Law grand?!

Actually, as odd as I am I may really enjoy both.

In the meanwhile:

I will set up my golf-net in the backyard and, perhaps, practice on my swing for an hour or so and then leave the net up until I decide that -- no -- it isn't an appropriate place to put Christmas Lights. Then I'll brush the snow off, fold it up, and store it in the garage.

I will contemplate finally building, for my king-size bed, that beautiful oak headboard I have so intricately planned out on paper. Then, realizing I can't fit the wood in the backseat of my Ford Taurus, I'll change my mind.

I will write the first chapter of the Great American Novel and then put it in the same folder where all the rest of the first chapters of my Great American Novel have gone.

I will daydream a lot about the interesting work (and the money) that will come with my career in a couple short years.

But, more than anything, I will become re-aquainted with "Days" . . . and wonder: "Will Shawn and Belle be happy? Is Patrick working for the bad guys or not? Can Bo and Hope's marriage survive? And will Marlena make it back to John?"

'Cause, for now, my wife has been giving me the updates. And, alas, they are just never quite the same . . .