Introducing . . .
Blawging The BLUEBOOK:
the Monthly Super Awesome Trivia Blawg Game

Starting Monday several of your favorite blawgers will be joining to bring you a monthly, well . . .

I guess you can call it a contest, you can call it a scavenger hunt, or you can call it a waste of your time.

Nevertheless it will provide you with the opportunity to get to know your favorites better, test your knowledge of the blawging world, and generally not pay attention to your professors.

Oh, and did I mention,
Win lots of prizes!!!

So far we have participating:

Moonlighting in Misery (of course!)
Anonymous Law Student
Amicus Curaie
Legally Blonde
Little Tortfeasor
The NambyPamby
LawSchoolVirgin

So here's the deal:
1. If you are a blawger and would like to participate, leave a comment.
2. If you are a reader that would like to express how turned-on you are by the thought of this contest, leave a comment.
3. If you just think this is the most ignorant thing you've ever heard of, theeeeen you obviously spend too much time studying and I don't want to hear from you. (But you can leave a comment, anyway).

Then tune back in Monday to any of these blawgs to find out how it works and how cool you will be if you win . . .

just call me a Dumb Ignorant Conservative

So yesterday I'm standing in a small dimly-lit room with a smile on my face and my wife's hand in mine, staring at an ultrasound monitor,

When this conversation begins . . .

[Dr. Dip****] (that's what I'll call him because--while he's only an ultrasound tech and certainly not an M.D.--he definitely has a Ph.d. in BULL, anyways, lets begin again)

[Dr. Dip****]: [Misery] is your last name? You aren't related to [BIG liberal also named Misery who's made a lot of money by twisting the truth, omitting facts, and corrupting context], are you? That would be cool!

[Mr. Misery]: (laughing uncomfortably) Ha ha, no, not in Lubbock it wouldn't.

[Dr. Dip****]: Yeah. That's the problem. We all just want to censor the truth and keep everyone ignorant. Its just like with Natalie Maines of the Dixie Chicks, she is such a brave person for standing up and speaking the truth . . .

And as he goes on Mrs. Misery and I just continue to smile and nod, thinking: "We just want to know about our baby. Please stop."

But he continues on until I interrupt him by asking if this little pulsing spot on the screen was my baby's heart . . . THEN made the mistake of mentioning that I'd rented a doppler heart monitor (identical to the one the doctor uses) to check Baby Misery's heart rate at home.

Great.

[Dr. Dip****]: Bad mistake. Bad. You don't realize the kind of energy those things put into your wife's womb. If you only knew about the dangers of radiation--even on one flight from here to Dallas. The dosage of radiation you get would scare you to death. Its just a matter of time. But I'm telling you those devices are dangerous. I know the FDA approves of their use, and I've written the FDA telling them they are killing people. They just wrote back, and you know what they told me? Do you know?! They just said, "Oh, we can't tell people that because it would scare them." That's what its all about--hiding the truth. Keeping people ignorant.

Wow. I'm seeing some ignorance in this room. And its not coming from me or my wife.

But he goes on and on and on . . . for nearly 90 minutes with nonstop political nonsense. I especially wanted to scream when he started quoting Noam Chomsky.

UGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

And we just grinned, and prayed silently for him to shut up and to spend half as much time talking to us about our baby as he did our politics.

Then, after finally having been told its a girl and being given a brief moment to enjoy the news, he launches in again with a monologue on Hugo Chavez. (The president of Venenzuala).

[Dr. Dip****]: He is such a great man. Courageous. Quite a hero for what he's doing. And standing up for the truth! People just need to shut up with their criticism of him for coming to New York and calling Bush the devil. What ever happened to freedom of speech?

(Good Question from the guy who is ranting about how others should not be criticizing).

So I chime in, in an effort to at least be friendly . . .

[Mr. Misery]: Yeah. Did you see where 7-11 has pulled their contract with Citgo (which is owned by Venezuela) in protest over his comments at the UN?

[Dr. Dip****]: Yes, and that's wrong! We've organized a "buy-cott" where we only buy gas from Citgo to reward and encourage Chavez for his brave comments.

I wasn't entirely sure who "we" happened to be, but I was beggining to lose my patience . . .

[Mr. Misery]: Oh, sure, reward him . . . Uh huh, and then he can take the money and pour it into buying Cuba and making friends with Iran and becoming enemies with the U.S. and while we're at it lets just go ahead and put the money directly into the terrorist's pockets.

(Better yet, I'll give you the materials and why don't you try making a bomb in your garage and go ahead and blow yourself up, save them the expense and trouble! They don't care that you sympathize with them!! Don't you get that?! You are AMERICAN too, the bullseye on your back is just as big as mine!!!!)

[Dr. Dip****]: Oh, wait. You can just quit that talk! Don't try feeding me that bull, 'cause I'm not buying it! Chavez is a good man who's giving back to the people, none of that money is going for anything else but to the people . . .

So my wife squeezes my hand and I can see the look of absolute defeat in her eyes, so I grow quiet again while he continues to drone on . . .

But then he really, really stabbed me. And twisted.

[Dr. Dip****]: . . . and then we go and tell these other countries that if they don't give up their terrorists, well "we'll just go in and get them ourselves" (making a mocking gesture of bravado). And how do you think we'd respond if someone said that to us?! I tell you what! Its not fair, and we're hypocrites. They have the right to keep their citizens safe from us, even if they are terrorists . . . and its just not fair that we would expect them to just hand over their terrorists so we can try them under our form of "justice."

At this I let go of my wife's hand and started to leave the room, but stopped and suddenly turned toward the Village Idiot.

Let me tell you, nothing frightens me more than the world into which I am bringing my daughter.

It is a world where 1/3 of the world's population has been commandeered by 1% of their own most extremist Village Idiots and are now being used to push an agenda that calls for all-out war and blood.

It is a world where the president of Iran believes it is his responsibility to "bathe the world in blood" in order to create the ideal conditions for the return of the 12th Imam (sp?). The guy is such an extremist wack-job that it has been rumored even the Ayatollah Khomeini may be afraid of him . . . AND he may have a nuclear bomb.

It is a world where votes mean more than lives. We have a President who put us into a war he is now too politically chicken**** to fully fight. We have a Democratic party who has played politics with this war from the beginning, doing their best to turn votes against the President for being to adament about prosecuting the War on Terror and then criticizing him and claiming they will be more adament in prosecuting the War when he turns tail and gets quiet. And we have a Republican party with the BALLS to fight the War but who are too damned busy accepting bribes to pay attention to what is going on.

It is a world that I like to paint with broad strokes and some occasional over-statements . . .

But, nonetheless . . .

Things are screwed up.

And this is the world I am giving to my daughter.

I must admit: I'm scared. Very scared. I'm scared of what her little eyes are going to see, because I couldn't do anything to make the world better.

So I let him have it . . .

[Mr. Misery]: Don't you dare tell me it isn't fair for us to protect ourselves! This is not the Crusades. This is not the Spanish Inquisition. It was wrong 1000 years ago, and it is wrong today. You just told me I am going to have a little baby girl. Now don't even think you are going to tell me I don't have the right to keep her safe . . . If you come into my house and threaten my family, I'll put your brains on the wall. So when they say every day that they want to kill me, kill my wife, kill my daughter, and destroy my civilization--I will do anything I possibly can to protect those things I hold dear. And don't think for one second I am going to stop and ask: "is this fair?"

(brief pause. complete silence)

[Mr. Misery]: You are a man of science and a liberal, you must ascribe to theories of Darwinism, right? Survival of the Fittest? Sound familiar? They have applied his theories and called it Social Darwinism? So Darwin said this, basically: Life isn't fair. You learn to cope, or you die. Now I'm telling you, life isn't fair. The survival of the fittest, right? The biggest muscles rule? Well, if you don't stop whining about what is "fair," then there is definitely no hope for you and you will end up taking our entire country down with you! If you really care, then stand up and fight . . . let's get rid of that wacked-out 1% that wants to kill us, and let the rest of them live in peace. Otherwise, I'm sick and tired of listening to you and I'm sure this is not what we paid for.

MiM is proud to announce that Baby Misery is . . . a GIRL!

Brain Childs

I know the plural of "child" is "children" but Brain Children just doesn't sound right . . .

Anyway,

Today Mrs. Misery and I go to the doctor and will--we have been promised this time--will find out the sex of Baby Misery.

Also, I have an announcement regarding a new blawging game starting next week involving many of your favorite blawgers.

So stay tuned and both will be announced shortly . . .

Blokes & Jokes & Fake ID's

aLs and I were discussing what impact our blawg/myspace/facebook accounts might have on our job searches if found by any potential employers . . .

When the following exchange took place:

MiM on AiM: yeah, well, what about myspace . . . that's much easier to find
PikeOO7: yeah it is
PikeOO7: myspace is the one ppl always look for
PikeOO7: You can set it so that only you myspace friends can view your profile. That would solve that problem.
MiM on AiM: yeah, because that one picture of me naked mud-wrestling a donkey probably won't help me get a judicial clerkship, I imagine
PikeOO7: I would hire you on the spot.
PikeOO7: To me that says "team player" and "good for office morale"
MiM on AiM: yeah, but you'd have to rent the donkey next time . . . last time I never got my deposit back
PikeOO7: hahaha
PikeOO7: "no sir, we will not return this deposit, you soiled our donkey!"
MiM on AiM: they had to put the poor thing down
MiM on AiM: it just never was quite the same after that
PikeOO7: hahaha, they hoped that counseling would help it....but that faraway look just never left its eyes
MiM on AiM: hey, what can I say, I just have that affect on people
MiM on AiM: y'know, better than our blawging . . .
MiM on AiM: the conversations blawgers have on AIM are even more entertaining

Then it occurred to us that we ought to take this show on the road, 48 cities in 52 days. We'll reserve local county convention centers across the nation where we will showcase our blawgs, peddle our wares, and show-off our funnies.

And the main-event will be a large panel discussion of blawgers, before the audience of attendees, where we let the jokes and drama fly . . .

aLs says he can just picture the official Hoodie reading "Blawger Convention '06"

Fake ID's Encouraged!!

I guess now we just need to find our Sponsors . . .

Cases, Statutes, Treatises . . . Blawgs?

So, in keeping with its character, the 9th Circuit Court of Appeals is once again blazing a trail by indicating, in dicta, that Blawgs may now be accepted as legal authority in a judicial misconduct proceeding.

The court wrote:

Throughout these lengthy proceedings, the judge has offered nothing at all to justify his actions--not a case, not a statute, not a bankruptcy treatise, not a law review article, not a student note, not even a blawg.

--In re Complaint of Judicial Misconduct, 425 F.3d 1179, 1195 (9th Cir. 2005).

My only question is this:

Do Blawgs written within the jurisdiction of the 9th Circuit carry more weight than those written in other circuits??

If so, the real fun will start when the 7th Circuit adopts this same approach and Law&Alcoholism becomes a favorite for judges attempting to justify their coming to court "black-out drunk" and asking the female bailiff to help them use their penis pumps.

But, for now, aLs can surely have some fun with this . . .

"Just Say No"

In the last decade, scientists have discovered that the feelings of love and passion a person feels when first falling for another are merely the result of a chemical reaction--a dopamine produced in the brain.

The feeling, they report, is much like using speed or cocaine.

And these chemicals last--at most--a scant two years. After that a pair of lovers are left to their own devices to keep the love alive.

But basically--at its core--Love is nothing more than a bad drug.

Isn't that a cruel thought?

It does explain a few things, however . . .

Like how falling in love when you are 25 doesn't feel like it did when you were 15.

When a meth addict gets high, the same dopamine is released by the brain, but with each use of the drug it takes more of it to produce the same high. So is that the same as with love? Each time we do it, it takes more to achieve the same result??

And how about getting dumped?

Talk about going through withdrawal . . . !!

The feelings of anxiety, of paranoia, the cold sweats, the wild swings from odd cravings to abject hungerlessness,

and the need, the yearning, the absolute compulsion for. one. more. hit.

Please, I need the phone. I need to know she's . . . she's . . . (she's what?) . . . she's alright?!

And the sound of the voice on the other end of the line can be--depending upon the reaction--either another sweet high, enough to last for a day or a few hours, OR it could be a bad trip that leaves you in the fetal position on the bathroom floor with the shakes.

What you really need with a break-up is a good friend with rope who will tie your butt to the bed, throw out all traces of the drug and any paraphernalia, and keep you there until the worst of it has passed.

Then you need to get yourself into a 12-Step program

Or . . .

You can Just Say No to dating and love in the first place.

You can clean yourself up, throw away all vestiges of addiction, and throw yourself into a life more productive like becoming a work-a-holic, or something to that effect.

After all, wouldn't most people who've seen the down-and-outs of what Love can do to a body agree that this drug most definitely makes us weaker? And who wants to be weaker?

Only an addict.

But there is one other path you can walk . . .

Love, like any other drug, actually wears off of its own volition after a period of time, and this is beyond the user's control. Now some--maybe most--people when this happens will simply discard the used "delivery device" and go out in search of another.

(Often, that "delivery device" has not yet felt the effects of the drug's waning influence herself, thus beginning her own horrible withdrawal process while you are off begging for another fix.)

Unlike other dependencies, however, when this high wears off a person is fully capable of putting a little effort into creating a deeper--and more natural--experience through dedication and reliance on the other person. Its hard. Very hard. But its healthy.

It just takes two in order to make it work. That may be the most frightening aspect.

Now, I have always been a huge fan of the Beat Authors--Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsburg, William S. Burroughs, Neal Cassady, et al.

And have always wanted to write as they did.

But I am not Beat. I am not of their generation nor their time, and I certainly don't have their experiences. Not to mention, much--if not most--of their writing was done under the influence of drugs.

However, instead of that explaining why I could never write like them--maybe that explains why I can't write like them now . . .

You see . . .

I, [Moonlighting in Misery], am an addict.

No, I was never involved in any illegal behaviour. (Well, I can't actually say with absolute certainty that nothing I did prior to the Supreme Court's decision in Lawrence v. Texas was illegal in this state, I never bothered to check all of the laws of Texas . . . )

But I was a user. I am now three-years clean of that drug's insipid affects. I have hung on, and chosen the more healthy route. It is also my belief that when you walk down that aisle and exchange those vows, it certainly does help shorten the affects of the drug considerably!

In exchange for my healthy stability, I have lost the turbulent highs associated with the drug that gave me the inspiration and ideas to write.

But when you are happy with the day, who would prefer to dwell in the night?

So I am no longer to write as I was once able when I penned the following . . . but I am much happier for it.

And I suppose each of us are responsible for making a choice, my only advice is that being an addict is certainly not the best way to remain. Just say no.


The Night’s Last Dance

Is it wine and roses her eyes devour
Or the starlight reflected in mine
Is it the touch and passion this night, this hour
Or a blessing completely divine

She leads to dance slowly to a rhythm she feels
A rhythm known only to her
He feels himself falling completely completely
And drinks as this moment endures

Tonight in this darkness, this passion, this palace
All the world dreams of her kiss
He bows to her lowly for his soul’s only solace
Dreaming “forever” in ignorance sweet bliss

The candles will flicker and the wind it will blow
And the starlight will fall from the sky
When she finishes this dance to his heart’s ebb and flow
O, my poor soul it will flicker and die



I lay her down gently and, turning, I walk away
The house is so quiet I can hear her heart beating
And I whisper to myself, “this moment won’t stay . . .”
As with any--and all--this too is so fleeting

I have lost my rhythm to the passing of time
My romance by reason is no longer mine
I cling to these feelings I’ve expressed to the past
I penned them I claimed them I thought they would last

With each day I stay here does my passion just fade
As I lay fast my anchor is our future so made
I have taken the day by giving the cool starry night
And I wonder—
Can I continue?
To truly fight the good fight . . .

So I stood in the darkness and caressed the brow of my Dream
As I looked down upon her, am I all that I seem
Where the walls have been built all to the same ends
And I wonder— I ponder
While making good neighbors
Do fences make such good friends?

Can she crack the façade, will I give up my heart
Is there more to our love than the terms of our art
Are we willing to fall beyond where we are willing to go
And if one of us isn’t, will the other one know

I fight such damned questions and chase them away
And she’ll wake up tomorrow to face the new day
I will be there beside her, where I keep thinking still
When her gaze drifts upon me, how will she then feel?

And I hope that the Angel the thoughts in my head
As she lay there before me alone in her bed
Can restore my passion, help me find what I miss
While I float into her brown eyes . . .
And I revel in her kiss.

Baby Shopping

Mrs. Misery and I spent an exciting Saturday evening registering for baby stuff.

But before we were done, I added a large box of Trojan condoms to the list.

I thought it was funny. I believe most people will get the joke. And even if some smartass decides to buy them . . . I figure after the birth I'll need them again, anyways. Right??

She didn't agree.

She just gave me the icy look of death . . .

Which makes me think--

Maybe I won't be needing them after the baby gets here.

And that makes me sad.

Do They Know Me? Part III: The Homecoming Queen

My name:
[Homecoming Queen] (No. I'm Mr. Misery. We're getting our nicknames mixed up here.)

Who is the love of my life:
Jeremy (Hmm. Now don't quote me on this . . . but I'm pretty sure I've never dated a "Jeremy." I've dated a "Jana." I met her while she was working as a beer tub girl in a dance club and she could be a little crude and masculine at times but I'm pretty sure she only had girl parts. If she did have guy parts, I'm not sure where she hid them in those short tight jean shorts she liked to wear. But, no, don't think Jeremy is the love of my life. I think she's just trying to start rumors.)

Where did we meet:
He used to be my ex's supervisor and friend. we all used to hang out on the weekends. his girlfriend (at the time) hung out too. within 2 years, jeremy and i were both single and hadn't seen or spoken to eachother in a long time. he called mark (my ex) and got my number.

(Oh, wait! I thought we were supposed to be talking about me!! I didn't know this was going to be an exposition on her love life. But, please, go on . . . )

Take a stab at my middle name:
#&%!? . . . sounds good, but honestly, i can't remember it! (She actually got it! And I'm not going to post it here. We dated, but it would probably be more accurate to say we just let our hormones rage alot. I'm not sure how much "dating" actually went on. Crazy teenagers!! In any case, I'm surprised she was actually paying attention . . .)

How long have you known me:
since we dated in high school (She did teach me early on that "porno tongue" is not--contrary to what you'd think is obvious from the name--it is not really a turn on.)

When is the last time that we saw each other:
at your lovely wedding...mark and i rode in the limmo...my first and only time so far.

(Okay, readers, I must ask: Did I commit a Wedding Foul by inviting her to my nuptials? Mrs. Misery thinks so since I wouldn't let her invite some boy she slept with. But I think the obvious difference--and where you draw the line--is that he saw Mrs. Misery naked. All [Homecoming Queen] and I ever did was make-out. Alot. But I didn't see her naked, she didn't see me naked. So I think it was all good.)

Do I smoke:
i don't think so...?

Do I drink:
maybe on occasion...not sure

What was your first impression of upon meeting me/seeing me:
I thought you were such a talented actor...i believe it was during the crucible (Why I went to Law School: So I wouldn't spend the rest of my life in middle management daydreaming about when I was a bigshot in high school. I knew it would happen as I would reminisce about how [Homecoming Queen] and her friend would take turns rubbing my shoulders and shaved head during rehearsals because I was Mr. Leading Man--or something like that. Wow! I can't believe how really pathetic that sounds now. Thank God I'm in Law School where the egos are just as big, the paychecks just as small, but at least we're bragging about the future and not the past!!!)

Do I have any siblings:
yes...

What's one of my favorite things to do:
i don't know anymore

Am I funny:
yes...as i recall

What's my favorite type of music:
you used to like Harry Connick Jr (Harry Connick Jr. is a musical god!!! I went to my first concerts when i was 13 years old: one was the rapper Candyman, and the other . . . Harry Connick Jr.)

What is the best feature about me:
Your smile (Thank God someone finally said something other than "he's nice.")

Am I shy or outgoing:
outgoing, i think...maybe a little shy

Am I a rebel or do I follow the rules:
a bit of a rebel

Do I have any special talents:
acting

Have you ever hugged me:
yes

Do you miss me...do you think i miss you:
sure...to both

What is my favorite food:
italian?

If there was one good nickname for me, what would it be:
hmmm...i do not have a tallent for nicknames

What's your favorite memory of me:
the homecumming dance (Bad Spelling? Freudian Slip? I'm not even going to touch this one!!)

Thunderdome Rules

If we get nuked,

And the government crumbles,

And society spirals into a turbulent State of Nature

Before I graduate Law School . . .

Do I get a refund??

The way I figure it is -- three years of law school tuition will allow me to hoard a whole hell of a lot of gasoline.

Obsession: Radical Islam's War Against The West

www.ObsessionTheMovie.com - a powerful new documentary that exposes the threat of Radical Islam in ways never before seen in the mainstream media

Do They Know Me? Part II: The Redhead

My name:
[Moonlighting in Misery]

Who is the love of my life:
YOU? haha...kidding, im betting its your wifey.

Where did we meet:
working on the school play in highschool (I was John Proctor in "The Crucible," where we met. It was my first religious education as I had to learn the Ten Commandments to recite during one scene. But there was also this climactic moment where I yelled "God is dead." Have you ever heard the phrase "bust a nut"? Just as I yelled that I was grabbed and dragged off stage by another actor. During one performance, I was so wrapped up in the scene that I may have gotten a little rough with the other actor . . . and between that and my yelling, I pulled a groin muscle. THAT is what it means to bust a nut--it hurt. bad.)

Take a stab at my middle name:
/me stabs but misses. (I am really secretive about my middle name. But it is a bit of a family tradition for the first born son to pass it on to his firstborn son. So Baby Misery, if a boy, will carry on the curse. haha.)

How long have you known me:
since 1996. 10 years.

When is the last time that we saw each other:
s**t...5 years ago? (So, really, I haven't known her for as long as I did know her . . . in a way. But with some friends, it just doesn't matter, right?)

Do I smoke:
you used to...but i bet you dont now, you grown up you!

Do I drink:
yes?

What was your first impression of upon meeting me/seeing me:
"this guy is nice!" (And she changed her mind about 5 minutes later.)

Do I have any siblings:
yes.

What's one of my favorite things to do:
argue

Am I funny:
very. (And she obviously hasn't read this blawg.)

What's my favorite type of music:
ska and stuff right?

What is the best feature about me:
always willing to speak your mind.

Am I shy or outgoing:
outgoing

Am I a rebel or do I follow the rules:
rebel.

Do I have any special talents:
you lose the cig. wrapper game really well! ha! (That basically means it was easy to get me down to my boxer shorts. Maybe i'll explain that soon, maybe I won't.)

Have you ever hugged me:
indeed.

Do you miss me...do you think i miss you:
i sure do. i bet you miss me...i mean...how could you not? ;)

What is my favorite food:
?? chinesse?

Do They Know Me? Part I: The Diplomat

As everyone, I often receive those surveys sent out by friends that ask you to copy, paste, answer a few questions (or a few hundred) and then forward and send back. They also clutter the bulletins on MySpace.

I usually ignore them. But I found an interesting one posted by an old friend on MySpace yesterday and decided to do it--because it asks to answer questions about the other person. Then you post it and ask others to answer them of you.

So I did. And so far I've received one reply. I thought it might be fun to post that answer here.

The friend that answered I will call The Diplomat, because not only was this an accurate description of him in school but he's now living in China working for the U.S. State Department. We were never real close, but I always admired him for his intelligence and confidence.

(Any comments I make to his answers are in italics)

My name:
[Moonlighting in Misery] (Of course, he did remember my name.)

Who is the love of my life:
Dude it better be your wife

Where did we meet:
I can't remember what the name of the group was something like Gifted and Talented. Anway I seem to remember meeting you there in elementary school. (I promise, he has a MUCH better memory than I do!)

Take a stab at my middle name:
Trick question you don't have one! (Wrong! It is, of course, "IN")

How long have you known me:
If my memory serves well in excess of fifteen years

When is the last time that we saw each other:
Dude this is a very good question. I think just before you left for university. I am not sure the exact dates. (The Diplomat wasn't with us the night we got bored, played chicken with the buffalo, and went searching for the Deer Lady--which I will have to tell you about. So I don't think I saw him again after he left for OU).

Do I smoke:
Last check no

Do I drink:
Occasionally (Yeah, I've cut back dramatically. But he was the guy who made that grape stuff--what do you call it?--that night I drank too much and we all ended up at a park where I got very, very sick on the merry-go-round. I couldn't touch grape juice for YEARS after.)

What was your first impression upon meeting me/seeing me:
This kid is fun. (Hey, when you were in the Gifted & Talented program--the five floor walk up and down the stairs to get your lunch could be considered "FUN." What 8-year-old kid wants to spend 6 hours stuck in an attic learning about flying butresses and the basics of architecture?? I think the fact i was breathing probably qualified me for that description.)

Do I have any siblings:
Sister I think (And a brother. He was the one that had the Drew Barrymore Playboy that ended up in Genuis Friend's trunk before he started feeling guilty and had to drive all the way across town to stash it in a 7-11 dumpster.)

What's one of my favorite things to do:
Listen to music (Still is)

Am I funny:
Well back in the day you were (Ha ha! What a great answer!! And he doesn't even know about this blawg o mine)

What's my favorite type of music:
Last check Ska

What is the best feature about me:
You are very accepting of others

Am I shy or outgoing:
Both strangely enough (Yeah, I'm outgoing until I meet someone i don't accept and then I clam up . . .)

Am I a rebel or do I follow the rules:
A bit on the rebellious side

Do I have any special talents:
Is this a yes or no question? I am going with yes (But those "talents" will just stay between us, right?!)

Have you ever hugged me:
Yes (uhm, in a purely bear-hug-we-just-scored-a-touchdown-pass-another-beer-and-kick-another-puppy way, right?)

Do you miss me...do you think i miss you:
Gee this is a weird question. How about this I think that it would be cool to hang out and catch up but I don't think I feel a sense of urgency that missing would indicate. I imagine that would be the same for you.

What is my favorite food:
Don't know so I am going say if your in DC you are enjoying ready access to Ethopian food. Yum!
If there was one good nickname for me, what would it be:
[Moonlighting in Misery] of course!

What's your favorite memory of me:
Wearing Dresses to school (I am not sure I can ever explain this one . . .)

Are we friends:
I would say so. I mean youa re in my friend group.

Judicial Digression

As I was listening to Streetlight Manifesto on my Mp3 player,

and drafting a proposed order for the judge to sign regarding a motion to remand . . .

It occurred to me that there must be some irony involved in that moment.

I have become the Man.

When I was in high school, nearly half of my friends were self-proclaimed anarchists. The other half just didn’t care about anything but maintaining their lives below the mainstream through music and drinking and abject apathy. And the few of us that weren’t in either group were still flaming liberals and—as far as I remember—not big supporters of the Man.

But now I’ve sold-out, and I’ve corrupted my favorite music in the process.

Because I’ve taken it with me into the judge’s chambers, the establishment . . .

It is resting on my Mp3 player right next to the previous day’s podcast of the Glenn Beck radio program.

The fusion of entertainment and enlightenment . . . ?

Aw yeah. I’m the Man.

This Post Doesn't Get a Title

There are those times when you get to laugh at Life; unfortunately, Life far too often gets equal time to laugh at you.

I suppose I’ve been having a good chuckle for the past few months—I apologize for not sharing the joke with you—but I think now I have momentarily forgotten the punch line.

So maybe I’ll take this opportunity to tell some old stories . . .

I’ll just have to remember them first.

Komen, Run

In light of recent news of a personal-family nature, I have decided to participate in this year's Race for the Cure.

If you would like, you can donate to TTU School of Law's Team by clicking HERE.

And if I can get my butt out of the house to complete a 5k walk/run, you can spare $5.

Professional Responsibility?

My mother went to the doctor Friday to find out she has tumor(s).

Such news is always very frightening--both for the patient as well as that patient's family and friends. The lack of information is, perhaps, the most terrifying.

Is it malignant? Is it benign? How big? How many? How far has it spread?

The doctor performed a biopsy and scheduled her to return this afternoon to discuss the results and options.

Seems reasonable.

But during the visit Friday, without any prompt, the doctor told my mother:

"It looks really bad."

When asked for more information, then he got silent.

So. Great. My family had to crawl through the weekend echoing the question: What did he mean? Are we looking at the worst?

Great exercise of your Professional Responsibility to the client, jackass.

Thank you.

If anyone reading is a prayerful person, please . . .

Also this weekend, we spent the night with the in-laws on Saturday. And their next-door neighbor took a shotgun, walked outside, sat down against the house about 20 feet from our bedroom window, and blew his head off.

I did not see the resulting scene. My father-in-law, not knowing what had happened, looked over the fence and did.

This guy had a wife and two grown children. And many, many friends. One can never know how many people will be affected by one's death.

Even the neighbors to whom you occasionally speak.

But if he didn't care how such a selfish act would affect his wife and children, why would he care about anyone else?

Finally, to end with some good news: Mrs. Misery's doctor called this morning to report early testing for birth defects shows a completely healthy baby.

There is one prayer answered.

Lessons I've Learned About Being a Lawyer

No. 132

When you submit a motion to a federal court, make sure it doesn't read as if it was written by Corky from Life Goes On after a double dose of Ritalin.

Why? Because it may be given to a ThreeL student to research and write-up the order after only his first day of work and who, while very intelligent, is also very overwhelmed and now he may hold the future of your case in his hands.

Can you say "Legal Malpractice," sucker?

Chuck Norris School of Law, Class of '87

Crap. I wish they taught this level of advocacy in all law schools!

The War Against Dogs

What is the difference between this video . . .



And this one?




I think I'd actually hire Will Ferrell to represent me.

Intellectual RockStar, Indeed!

I just discovered the Judge with whom I had lunch is, in fact, hiring a law clerk for the next year . . .

So after having a lunch with conversations like:

Judge: The real sacrifice occurred in the Garden.

Misery: I know exactly what you mean. The day of the Cross wasn't a sacrifice, not the true sacrifice, what happened to him then was purely--

Judge: Physical. And the night before--

Misery: was all spiritual. That's when he made the decision.

Judge: Exactly.

How can he not hire me?? I mean, we were practically finishing each other's sentences.

Well, that is, unless of course there are those who apply that

--went to a much better school.

--went to his alma mater.

--have actually been published and aren't just "working on" a comment regarding the same topic as his speech.

--have just finished another clerkship with a District Court.

--or a thousand other reasons which I won't take the time to go through . . .

But I have a chance. And that is half the battle!

(Or, actually, I think "knowing is half the battle!" in which case he at least knows me so I suppose that counts for something. Man, I miss the old G.I.Joe . . .)

So now I just need to set up a PayPal account so all you 3 people that still read me can contribute to my "Moonlighting in Misery Traveling to Interview With Federal Judges/Aaron Spelling TV's Greatest Producer That Brought us 90210, Dynasty, Mod Squad, Charlies Angels, Startsky & Hutch, 7th Heaven, Lets Not Forget Hart to Hart, and He Put John Travolta in a Plastic Bubble Memorial Fund."

Really, there is a connection. I am sure Aaron Spelling would want me to get a federal judicial clerkship. Such a gesture just seems so 7th-Heaveny to me, doesn't it to you?

And I may need to fly to Bangor, Maine . . . or San Diego, California.

That costs money. And it will bring me joy. Aaron Spelling brought you joy as a child growing up watching the latest escapades of Kelly and Brendan and the whole gang.

So contribute. And you will feel better about secretly watching Melrose Place for all those years.

The "Ringo Starr" of the Federal Judicial System

So he wasn't actually on the Supreme Court . . .

If you had lunch with Ringo Starr, you could still brag about eating with a Beatle . . .

Right?

He is the Chief Judge Emeritus of the nation's largest Circuit, AND he's a consultant to the Israeli and Pakistani Supreme Courts. And we had a romantic lunch together while I gazed longingly into the eyes of a big fat job opportunity.

That's right! He so gave me the complete "4-1-1" on getting the judicial clerkship of your dreams.

So I have all my judicial clerkship applications done and submitted. Now I just wait (pray) for the phone calls and jump back on making my car run again in the meantime.

By the way . . .

Apparently it is perfectly acceptable to tell a Circuit Court Judge that you'll have to put their offer on the back burner until you have had a chance to holler at Tony and Sammy, just to make sure they have a shot at your tremendous talent first.