REVOLT!

As I walked to class this morning, thinking deep thoughts about how a 23 year-old came to skip the "$1000 Wardrobe" spread at page 162 in April's Esquire in favor of the "$5000 Wardrobe" spread 6 pages later, I could not help but detect the drums of discord. Or, with somewhat more precision, the 'pings' of discord; as most of the angry racket has been flowing via Outlook inboxes. Basically, people don't much like the new dean, or his plan to turn this place into the only "holy trinity" law school on the quarter system, or the fucking (adj.) undergrads in our library; or the fact that said dean refuses to dispose of said undergrads. A few tidbits follow:

Right on, [L]. I'd be willing to trade my library use for the ability to use the actual grass at the driving range. those mats are awful, and the lines make alignment impossible.

I'm sure any administrative discussion will be just like the quarters
system: the students are against a situation, therefore it will continue unabated, much like the domestication of the dog
- A charmingly cynical soul

...Let the undergrads go work on the damn second floor, where there are no windows, or on the third floor, which is still stuck in the 1970s. The good chairs are on the first floor, as is the reserve desk, as is our lovely new chess board. When does my opinion count at this school? Didn't count during the quarter system debate, doesn't count now......why did we hire a Dean who cowtows [sic] to the administration when we pay his salary? Why is it that whenever there is an issue that affects students he is against us instead of working for us - which is his job (that and raising money on our behalf)?
- Anon.

Man, with 90-plus-percent of the law school pissed at the undergrads, the undergrads chatting up irritating us on their email lists, offers of what will surely be a terrible drinking event at the enchanted broccoli compound (as opposed to those other rocking undergrad events where grad students are always labeled "sketchy"), and serious discussion going forward about a petition drive to withhold 3L giving until this or the quarters system reflects students' wishes, we really have so much comity here. So much!


Sooner or later someone is going to stop asking questions about the undergrads and the pedagogical benefits of the quarters system and start asking the right questions: How much does Sullivan really want to take the California bar again, and how long is our current leader's contract?
- Anon.

...Thus, the attorneys found themselves preparing for engagement on no less than two fronts

Then the undergrads tossed a bomblet...

My personal retort:
Average SAT: 1400+
Number of "hot dates" in past year: 1
Time spent jacking off in law library in preparation for physics exam: 2 hrs.
Time spent screeching on cell phone in law library in preparation for physics exam: 3 hr.
Time spent showering, brushing teeth, applying deodorant, picking out clothes prior: null
Directions to "Go Fug Yourself" in link list at right: damn near priceless

The learned attorneys mused about a response...

It's very kind of the undergrads to take time off from studying to share fashion tips with us, but I think we might have the formula down already:

ill-covered beer gut (on both guys and girls- charming) + sloppy sweatpants and/or unfortunate miniskirt + distorted sense of one's own physical attractiveness = Stanford undergrad

I'm crushed I'll be missing the 8 pm fugly parade- should make for some decent observational humor...
- Genteel Bane of UGrads

A short time later, hostilities commenced...

Scene: Undergrad grossness gathers around the library tables.


Large Dustin Diamond look alike (very loudly): "Ok, we're going to sing happy birthday to..."


[E, Fearless Insurgent Captain](equally loudly): "No you're not. This is a library and people are trying to study. Shut the f**k up."


Classic stuff. And yes, actually sing happy birthday. The undergrads party that much.

The next day (this afternoon), the dean looked down from his perch and said:

...For the Law School to flourish it cannot conduct its business apart from the rest of the University as an independent operation. We need the support and cooperation of the University in a great many areas...immediately and in the long run, the Law School as a whole, but especially the students, have more to gain by being an integral part of the larger Stanford community than we do from remaining separate. .... It would do us significant harm within the University were we to be the lone department that precludes other members of the University community from using our facilities.

Never mind that the current acrimony has nothing to do with access to the book resources of the library; only access to a very expensive (paid for by law school alumni), and heretofore quiet, reading room on the first floor. Never mind that I use the other libraries to (gasp) check out books and depart. But, alas, my commentary skews officious. The gentle dean continued thusly:

...the law library will address issues of noice [sic] and inappropriate behavior by clearly posting our rules and asking everyone to comply. Incidents like what took place last night will not be tolerated. The library is a space to study, not to protest or socialize, and anyone who interferes or disrupts the proper use of the room will be asked to leave. .... I view restricting access to our current space as a last resort and want first to see if we can address the problems in less drastic ways.

Again, never mind that the "last resort" option of restricting access to the space has been working fine for years. I’d mention some other candidates for dean but I wouldn’t want them disappeared.

Colliton gets a bit less...Cravizzle

So, last time I lived in New York, it was my habit to wander up Third Ave. on Sunday mornings as the hour approached for legal alcohol purchasing. Along the way I'd pass the St. Marks Hotel and wonder what sort of debauchery was afoot within. Seriously, what kind of hotel has a green door, a green sign and happens to be located between Cooper Union (geeky weirdos) and the rest of St. Marks Place (kinky weirdos)? Low and behold, I crawled out of my very hazy weekend to discover that a tax attorney, formerly of the venerable Cravath, Swaine & Moore LLP, had been captured within. See Google News Dump.

I should say something off colour here about tax attorneys, but I won't because some of my friends claim to have enjoyed tax law and I don't want them to feel like perverts.

Anyhow, Mr. James Colliton, a fellow, who, if guilty of the several misdeeds alleged against him, ought to be clapped in irons, looks like a complete wanker. See his picture here. To the credit of the financially endowed Cravizzle folks, one could paraphrase their response to media inquiries as "Colliton don't work here no mo'!"

Seriously dude, exercise a little restraint and at least move to Colorado City, Utah. There you can stay married to your original wife, keep hanging out with your kids and engage in committed, though un-sanctioned, liaisons with all the underage girls you want—blessed by God's graceful smile, if you ask the locals. Hell, you might even score a pair of sisters. Of course, you might have to part with that posh job at Cravizzle, which does not maintain offices in Utah. For very good reasons, I'm sure.

addendum sequitur :
I have never worked for Cravath; I didn't even interview with them. I did hear that one of their hiring partners had to the nerve to ask a classmate of mine if he was a practicing Muslim during the interview. So, I guess you could say they occasionally push the bounds of propriety—if only when faced with a robust non-discrimination policy.

Also, the polygamists in Colorado City aren't even Mormons, or Latter-Day Saints, for that matter.

Wherein we plumb the depths of law-student psychosis

I went on a mid-week urban adventure. It was a bad idea; I had a meeting with a professor at 11:00 the next morning. Needless to say, nobody actually plans to go clubbing in San Francisco when they have perfectly good reasons to stay in Palo Alto and attend to very important, very erudite, conversations and tasks.

Anyhow, through an artifice, the details of which I omit to spare the innocent, I found myself in a bar/club in San Francisco accompanied by some very interesting girls with quite divergent personalities who I had never gone out with before. Throughout the evening the character in question remained quiet and subtle, usually signs of the socially competent and conscientious. However, after apparently failing to locate members of our cadre for not more than 15 minutes, she wandered outside in a huff. When we eventually found her, she proceeded to shriek and shove at her girlfriend in a manner very much in keeping with the child-like state in which she entered law school.

Draw whatever conclusions you will from the previous sentence.

As I fled up Castro Street with my friend of many years, desperate to escape the feminine sidewalk carnage in our wake, I wondered: how do people of such emotional fragility survive three years of the most severe mind-fucking devised by the legal academy? What skills could this person possibly have that would convince anyone to both put up with her attitude and pay her US $140,000 per year with virtually guaranteed yearly bonuses and raises? That amount is several times what the typically good-natured American can expect to earn at the apogee of his or her career. Perhaps the typically good-natured American is both pathetic and stupid but that's no excuse for rewarding borderline-psychotics who happen to stumble through a torts outline.

To address the afore-posed questions, perhaps this unfortunate soul, lacking social grace or ability to just suck it up and be an adult, is a victim of the law school. Perhaps the bankruptcy professor yells too much; or the Con-Law guy made too many mean-spirited quips; maybe her partner in negotiations was a hard-ass. Any of these things could explain such bizarre behaviour--and the fact that I find it necessary to write about this. But perhaps I've too much empathy re: the whole law school mind-fucking thing; it's more likely that there's just something fundamentally unreasonable (here I intend a strict legalese usage) about people who start fights with their friends in public and commit other social torts. I suppose that since I can't sue for my evening back, I'll just put it down to a lesson learned and (hopefully) karmic currency for better adventures to grace this space.

As for the ridiculous amount of money this person is going to make, I make no good-faith complaint and only mention it to arouse the gentle reader's outrage. Hell, I've probably got the same package.

Achtung! Der Himmel fällt!

...auch, die Nazin kommen!...von South Dakota.
Three items of note today (ordered from least to most alarming), along with a general status update.

First: Vicky Lynn Marshall (aka Anna Nicole Smith) set foot in the Supreme Court this morning. I'm sorry but that's almost as bad as pouring pigs' blood on the Western Wall. Not quite as bad, but almost; certainly much worse than the former spokesperson of the Taliban taking classes at Yale. (A warm welcome to you, sir, from our gender-neutral society. Just for the record, I wanted to bomb your women-hating fundamentalist-desert-cult before 11/9. Good to hear you didn't mean all those awful things you said last time you came to this fine country. Now that the unpleasantness is over, I hope that you might come to visit Stanford some time.)

Second: Apparently, the following is true -- Picketing an abortion clinic | to dissuade citizens from peacefully obtaining, rendering or discussing lawful medical services | and conspiring to harass or embarrass those citizens with the overall goal of preventing people from practicing their chosen profession or obtaining medical treatment | does not constitute extortion or racketeering. Don't get me wrong, Justice Breyer is my favorite for reasons too many to enumerate here and I agree with him that the Hobbs Act was not passed to punish discrete acts or threats of violence unaccompanied by extortive demands. However, I strongly disagree with Justice Breyer's view of the facts in Scheidler v. National Organization for Women. (For those of you fortunate, or indebted, enough to have an account, the Westlaw citation is 2006 WL 461512.) In reiterating the Court's position that protestors may be threatening or violent yet not extortive Justice Breyer says:

We pointed out that the claimed "property" consisted of "a woman's right to seek medical services from a clinic, the right of the doctors, nurses or other clinic staff to perform their jobs, and the right of the clinics to provide medical services free from wrongful threats, violence, coercion and fear.” (internal quotation marks omitted). We decided that "[w]hatever the outer boundaries may be, the effort to characterize petitioners' actions here as an 'obtaining of property from' respondents is well beyond them.” Accordingly, we held that "because they did not 'obtain' property from respondents," petitioners "did not commit extortion" as defined by the Hobbs Act. (citations omitted)

What part of the anti-abortion movement does the esteemed jurist fail to understand? It seems to me that the vociferous elements of this decidedly authoritarian ilk are set upon increasing the pain and publicity of what is by all accounts a highly personal and already painful decision. To accomplish this goal, the rabble presents medical care providers with the option of providing abortions or putting up with some of the loudest, most unattractive and ignorant guests for hours on end. If that weren't bad enough, some of them are even violent. I imagine that if these loud, ugly people fail to close down the clinic, the next move is to show up with a more muscular "redneck" or "meathead" - or, in the alternative, a bomb threat. Now, suppose I came to your place of business, announced myself to be a member of a "movement" known worldwide for blowing stuff up and started screaming for you to close up shop. You might reasonably conclude that you were being not-so-tacitly presented with a very unpalatable option which I leave the gentle reader to divine. Let's see how well you enjoy your right to make a living knowing you'll see me and my loud friends every time you go to work. Oh yeah, I'm not talking about women's rights here because I think OB/GYNs are some brave mofos and prosecutions under RICO or the Hobbs Act are so butter. Now, why would I suggest a pecuniary or commercial interest in the right to an abortion? Protesters who close down reproductive health clinics drive business to regular hospitals, delivery rooms and anesthesiologists. Also, I just spent an hour listening to pro-choice fellow explain how Planned Parenthood makes scads of money providing abortions because the pro-lifers chased away half the doctors and Papists bought up half the hospitals. I believe him...I just don't see anything wrong with it.
(Before I'm accused of being anti-Catholic, let me point out that Roman Catholicism is my third favorite religion - right behind the Cults of Minerva and Miuccia Prada which are also sorta "Roman" and have, to date, served me quite well.)

Third: South Dakota seems poised to ban abortion (except to save the life of the mother). There is no exception for rape or incest. Hmmm... If we ban abortion in South Dakota and every pregnancy produces a child, what result for the incest rate in South Dakota?


Addendum re status:
The other night [N] told me I did very little work for a law student, or that I was very laid-back for a law student...something to that effect. Anyhow, I was already scared that I wasn't paying enough attention this semester so did that observation ever put me into a panic! (Hey, even [N] is sorta lazy.) So, in celebration of several weeks of debauchery, I decided to actually get some things done and pull a couple of more traditional all-nighters. Once again, this boy comes through in the clutch. We will be posting with more regularity.

Commentary on "Physiognomy"

An assortment of people have posted commentaries on my earlier post purporting to describe the physiognomy of the hard-ass judge. One particularly Honourable fellow over at "Have Opinion, Will Travel" found my omission of a passage on the dishonesty of the un-able prosecutor particularly amiss. While the dishonesty (legally speaking) was apparent and the rage from the bench "palpable," I would remind readers that the point of physiognomy is to allow for quick characterizations of ball-park accuracy, not immutable judgments of character. For the sake of many a well-coiffed colleague, I hope my description of the prosecutor as "fresh-faced...with a brit-pop haircut" does not encourage the judicial audience to assume the worst from anyone with more than a passing concern for appearances. See generally, Insouciant Highlights, infra (revealing the author's stance with regard to this issue).

Nevertheless, following is the rest of the story of The Un-able Prosecutor and the Hard-assed Judges: Our last observation saw the fresh-faced prosecutor in fearful colloquy with the panel, Prada loafer firmly planted in mouth. Mr. Prosecutor had just made a feeble showing of flipping through various appendices, apparently with an eye towards suggesting that he actually believed that the basis for his assertions (which were admittedly tangential to the issue under discussion: something about whether defendant had taken sufficiently obvious steps towards abandonment of some earlier infraction) lay somewhere within. The lead jurist told the feckless lad to cease and desist, that the panel was well aware of what he was trying to do and the collective mind of the bench didn't like it, not one little bit. There followed some brainstorming as to how to handle the situation with one panel member suggesting a complaint to the State Bar; "I wonder if that was a lie," mused one judge to his brethren. Did I really think they would have him clapped in irons? No, but I don't doubt that the thought crossed his mind. There was no bite, but the barking was loud and sustained. At length, the harshest sanction appeared to take the form of a promised phone call: "The folks upstairs will be hearing about this," said the head judge, clearly in reference to the DA's headquarters housed in the same building. The incident drew to a close when the prosecutor, finally removing the loafer from his mouth but still choking on the polish, stammered something about most sincere apologies...no intention to suggest the court base its ruling on matters not in the record...just describing the earlier case from memory and in passing...please don't tell my mother...et cetera, ad nauseam.

Were the panel members really “hard-asses” in the colloquial sense of exercising capricious severity? Probably not. But it might be useful to assess at a glance the attitude a judge might take towards shoddy lawyer-ing. For those anxiously awaiting the next installment of the Physiognomy series, please be patient. I’m sure we’ll have some great stories and more photos from the upcoming three-month field trip to New York.

Caché versus Crash

I went to see Caché this afternoon.

Apparently, racism among the bohemian bourgeoisie has a necessarily strict historical context. Most people of quality probably aren't racist at age 6; just jealous, selfish children. That is to say, I can't help but think that director Haneke gives his decidedly bourgeois audience a break by making the stalker's retributive actions against the film's hero a product of unfortunate events over which the characters have no control. When [N] asked me after watching Crash whether I thought people were really "that racist" I could honestly say "no one that I know." That said, everyone of our ilk knows the society Caché observes so casually. Also, Haneke needs to try and forget Heidegger when when he writes a film; a character's geworfenheit doesn't really make him any more lovable. That said, it's a fuckin' great movie. Unless you're American, stupid, or non-BoBo. No really, Caché is a fuckin' great movie.

Insouciant highlights

Apart from the exchange recounted below, the highlight of the past 24 hours was the arrival of my bluefly shipment. There's a perpetual urge to dress like we make $2500-a-week, when we're actually living off student loans. That's why it's particularly good to get that $1500 pile of designer stuff (Miu Miu, Gucci and Zegna) for $600. It turns out that Gucci is a really, really bad brand for dress shirts. Don't get me wrong, I love the ties and the briefcases...not so much the shoes...but the dress shirts are just plain shitty. For christ's sake, I get paid to look like I know something. People who wear shitty shirts clearly don't make enough money to have a job that requires them to know anything (excepting, of course, jobs requiring the miraculous minutia known only to the medical professions). What's worse is that Bluefly prices Zegna shirts somewhat lower than their Gucci counterparts although the retail is higher. Verily, I cannot understand how folks can be so infatuated with this "brand" that doesn't have Tom Ford anymore.

addendum non sequitur
Hmm...I wonder if it's unethical to send a Photoshop-ed picture for the Firm's summer facebook; I wouldn't want people to contrast the picture with the results of the rhinoplasty I have scheduled for before I start full-time.

time goes by...

[S]: It was cold in Russia. People were smearing goose fat on their bodies to stop frostbite, and near Moscow zookeepers fed an Indian elephant a bucket of vodka to keep it warm; the elephant then went on a rampage, tore radiators from a wall, and calmed down only after it was given a hot shower.
-from "Harper's Week in review"


[SH]: Given the behavior of this elephant you're describing, I'm pretty sure it wasn't Indian. It's African.


[S]:yo,
Last night I was talking with my roomate, [], about the web commic WIGU which is undergoeing a transformation from a three-pannel-a-day format to book form- my contention was that the comic isn't fucking funny enough to sustain that, my roomate disagreed. The whole thing sparked a debate about narrative structures in general, and serialisation in particular, which Pat seemed to think was a bad thing. He said that serialisation was why Dickens was a worse novelist than Terry Prachet contemporary Brit fantasy humor).

I was struck dumb by this for a couple of moments. Then I pointed out that Dickens was a genius who used brillient prose trun societie's own weapons against itself, whereas Prachet was an ammusing hack who had managed to turn maybe a dozen jokes into an absolutly ungodly number of slightly funny books. [] conceded that this might be true, but asserted that Prachet was deffinitavly more enjoyable to read, and, as a consequence, preferable- he sugested that maybe it was all a matter
of taste.

Again, I was silent, this time as I contemplated the unchartable depths of imbicility, and the absolute banckrupcy of both immagination and soul that could lead someone to hold such a depraved opinion. Finally, I said that it probably was just a matter of taste, and that he was certainly entitled to hold his own opinion, and seemed to let the matter drop.

As soon as the non-aggressive and conciliatory words were out of my mouth I vividly immagined that the four of you were watching the exchange and had let out a collective "Wha???" In that moment, I felt myself grow older, and I felt the icy tenticles of death tighten their grip perceptably around my spine.

Of course, then I wennt and defeated the whole purpose by trying to explain to him how lucky he was that I wasn't screeming at him: this made him very uncomfortable, although I suspect that he still was more comfotable than he would have been if I had handeled the situation the way I would have three years ago.
fight the power,


[SH]: Yeah, [S]. I think you're dying. Which is good. In the better days, you would have tried to shove "David Coperfield" up his ass...Would it help to say that a [S] who doesn't fight, on behalf of Dickens!, is already dead to me?


[BL]: holy shit. As one who felt the icy tendrils some time ago, I can say I don't think it signals death, though it may correlate with age. To the contrary and much worse, it signals the beginning of a moral declension after which one just doesn't care about truth anymore. Death comes to us all, but it won't reach me with a clear conscience. I'm truly sorry [S], but welcome to the club. When I get to the city, remind me that we need to go shopping at Polo for your new skull and cross bones necktie.


[SH]: [BL], as usual, is completely wrong. WHEN THE FUCK DID ANY OF US EVER CARE ABOUT "TRUTH"? We only cared to prove that the other of us was dumb. The "moral declination" argument is interesting, but wrong. Think about it. Fill in the blank, if you will: "If one is DECLINING, that means that one once was..." Although, call me when you go to "Polo".


[ER]: well shit [BL] that's a bit extreme, [S] decides for once in his life not to pick a fight and now you've got him shopping at polo

your story kinda reminds me of the incredibly frustrating discussion I once had with my roommate trying to explain why scientology was crap (but whats the harm, if it works for you . . . ) I only felt a little bit better when I realized that her brief interest in scientology was because she thought that the volunteer handing out the free literature was really hot.


[BL]: well, as [S] is usually the sort to defend the truth to the death (even if it means that we're the ilk that finds its collective self up against the wall when the revolution comes), I maintain my position that this is a declension. Frankly, I'm already at the bottom of the slide so I won't be upset regardless of who comes along (even if it's [SH] - never a more honest man have I known, though with quite the unique relationship to "truth") when we get the skull and bones neckties. The great tragedy is that now our compass doesn't want to steer us off the cliff when that's exactly where we need to go.


[BL]: re: the drunken elephant in Moscow. It's the beer before liquor problem. Distilled libations are uncommon in the traditions of both continents.


[SH]: [BL] ended with: "The great tragedy is that now our compass doesn't want to steer us off the cliff when that's exactly where we need to go." Easily the most beautiful and true thing [BL] ever said.

A pathetic man, thrown under a bus

Ah, the saga of Mr. Frey continues. I would have so much more fun with this but I'm just superstitious enough to maintain a healthy concern that schadenfreud might invoke one of those ironic penalties that one usually gets for hubris. So, Larry King just finished interrogating his guests as to whether they understood that "junkies lie." I really wish he could have asked Oprah that question, even in a purely rhetorical sense. I think Oprah realized the laughable obviousness of the situation. After the wonderfully snarky Smoking Gun report, the only plausible conclusion was that a junky pulled a fast one on us. The longer it takes to wrap one's head around that, the dumber one appears. Or maybe it's just that I have an unhealthy level of cynicism that even Oprah wouldn't forgive.

In praise of self-indulgent law professors

I don't know how they do things at your law school but around here the professors take their time producing grades. If my rather hazy memory serves me, I sat for an exam over one month ago and I still haven't heard any results. Before anyone suggests that the poor overworked professor has 75 other exams to grade, let me point out that my law school is very prestigious and most classes are very small. The only large class saw its professor complete grading quite some time ago. (Prof. [X], you're the greatest. I apologize for my failure to inquire about your health but I hope that evidence of your recovery may soon grace court rooms throughout the Ninth Circuit.)

Heretofore, I fervently believed that "procrastibation" (thanks for the expression, [N]) was the cure for any particularly dull legal task. Nowadays, I'm ever-so-slightly resentful of folks taking their time. After slaving nonstop for 4 months in at least two of the classes which I actually took for a grade, I'd appreciate some feedback that doesn't require me to "explain" myself. There is a bright side to this Dantean limbo: the students get a nice cooling off period during which we reflect on our high-paying jobs, nice suits and pleasant friends before being reminded that we were supposed to have learned something.

Don't get me wrong; we wouldn't be here were we not intellectuals of the highest order with a deep and abiding interest in tackling abstract issues that both put normal people to sleep and form the elementary fibers of the nation's tapestry. I have greater concerns than 1700-pages of disorganization posing as a casebook. So, I'm not going to begrudge the profs taking their time and going on vacating before reading some very dull exams (by which I mean our responses, not the very stimulating questions presented). Frankly, I'm as self-indulgent as any of the professors and since some people are under the impression that knowledge is power, I will simply point out that modern law is open source warfare. That is to say, obsessive instant messaging and web surfing during class makes one a better lawyer. Don't laugh at us; while you're "paying attention," we're practicing.

Munich

Munich is way, way too much like Shogun Assassin. Anyone who remembers the opening monologue from the latter probably knows what I'm getting at. Cultural illiterates may recall some choice lines from an unseen video in the final act of Kill Bill Vol. 2. Frankly, I'd like to see Shogun Assassin right now, but there are no decent foreign/indie video stores in this wasteland. We're in small town mode right now and do I ever feel like Johnny-come-lately for not seeing Munich sooner. Despite over-wraught tropes of the Assassin's reluctance, I don't see anyreason to disabuse folks of the notion that this is Spielberg's best film. It should also be required viewing for those who think that psychological damage doesn't follow from too much existential rambling and perceived moral failings. ("No, Sally, drugs won't do that to you; that's what happens when you sell your soul to the nearest Hegelian Nation-State.")

My real attraction to this film is the starkness of the Munich attacks which Spielberg uses to maximum effect by spreading it throughout the film and thus rehabilitating dull scenes and creating some sense of climax in the final act. I was a mere child when I first learned of the attacks in one of those History Channel specials which I thoroughly misunderstood while camped out on the bed of my parents' hotel room in 1988. I distinctly remember seeing the hollow eye-sockets of one of the terrorists as he leaned out the window of the Olympic complex and wondering if he was not a grotesque corpse being manipulated by an even more sinister character that the TV cameras wouldn't let us see.

This creates a comforting parallel to the various shootings and bombings throughout Western Europe and we're treated to some astoundingly profound dialogue suggesting the audience confront the following propositions:

1. Explosions and shootings are particularly disturbing if they happen in rich neighborhoods as opposed to deserts.
2. The Middle East is mostly composed of deserts.
3. The only violence one should be disturbed by will result in a dead prostitute in an open housecoat.

addendum non sequitur
Okay, time to listen to some Libertines. Also, James Frey is a very pathetic man. My memoirs are gonna be published as "fiction." No legitimate claims of breached confidence and the guilty parties will never wash the stench of suspicion from their sticky fingers.

The Physiognomy of the Hard-ass Judge

Several months ago I was attending oral arguments at the Appellate Division in San Mateo County's Superior Court. The panel was peopled with three fellows who looked sort of like this.

At one point in the docket they caught a fresh-faced prosecutor with a brit-pop haircut implying certain things about the trial record which were not, strictly speaking, actually there. The rage was so palpable, I feared they would have him clapped in irons.

As a reference for assorted lawyers and anyone who must deal with the legal system, someone should catalogue the features characteristic of the hard-ass judge so that those putting in an appearance can tell at a glance how much they can get away with. I have no knowledge of the above jurist's attitudes, but we should note first the beard. This is the sign of a man familiar with authority and directing others to apply physical force if necessary. Note also the prominent forehead which suggests you should assume him to be at least two-thirds as smart as you. We'll return to this issue periodically.

Charlie and Rose

Wednesday and Thursday consisted of a pleasant evening of dinner, clubbing, some conversation, and huge quantities of alcohol followed closely by fearful flashes of a Hieronymus Bosch future alternating with unconsciousness and vaguely sexual sounds from my compatriots. So it wasn't surprising that sometime after a bracing drive back down the Peninsula, I suddenly found myself watching David Brooks and Charlie Rose try to finish one another's sentences.

David Brooks is probably not my favorite of the NYT columnists but I can't verify that because I'm too cheap to subscribe. At any rate, I was pleasantly surprised by his observations which only occasionally increased my annoyance with conservatives.

Of greatest interest were Brook's comments on the true intellectual attitudes of the Bush administration on foreign policy and specifically the Iraq situation. Since I can hardly suffer a fool who doesn't watch Charlie Rose, we'll briefly dispense with the details; suffice it to say, Bush & Co. are smart, serious and very engaged while Cheney & Co. are a bit "hard to read."

While this frustrates my party line spiel about how we're ruled by anti-intellectual lay-abouts, it also forces me to make a more cultural criticism, even less likely to carry water with those who appreciate that folksy charm. Bush's sense of relevant history roughly extends to about the year 2008, concerns only him and has no place for the past. He's not a conservative, neither is he stupid. If Brooks is correct, the GOP wasn't joking about Bush doing serious on-the-job training back in 2001. The result is that these gentlemen have taught themselves a great deal about the current political calculus in the relevant region. They know things are going badly, appreciate that fact and are willing to spare no expense to solve the problem while disabusing us of any notions about just going home. This obsession with "facts on the ground" is great for short term tactics in a cultural vacuum but terrible when everyone else uses the specter of a cultural assault as the primary motivator.

A professional, volunteer military whose members actually follow orders will never compete numerically with irregulars convinced that their way of life is under assault; the former will, at best, fight for their buddies. The point is that we're going to lose this war after winning every single battle (with the exception of a very unfortunate incident in lower Manhattan which caught me totally unawares). These people clearly are only interested in what other cultures have to offer us by way of exploitable markets and credible threats. There was never any abstract curiosity and as a result no useful information which might have yielded the perspective necessary to forming a strategy of apparent coherence lasting more than one year. Far be it from me to suggest government by academics, but we should have them around as they often make charming dinner companions, love wine and late night conversations and tend to understand the big picture. They also don't like people who pretend to be stupid; Clinton understood this. I'm sure Bush works very hard during the day, but he really should stay up later and learn to drink responsibly.

The other likeable moment from Brooks was where he praised Sam Alito as a modest fellow with great self-respect but no need for accolade, similar to Bush, but without a need to act dumb. (Even working stiffs from Jersey want their lawya*s sma*t.) While my parents were being counter-culture Jesus Freaks and not joining the army, these guys were quietly supporting The Man, learning his game and not joining the army. Now my parents make me borrow money for school while these guys work at odd jobs here and there. Those folks from the '60s protest culture who did make it to government (Biden and Kennedy, etc.) are intellectual show-offs, always hated by the folks from Sam Alito's old Jersey neighborhood and smart rich kids who appreciate their place in the world. Never mind that Democrats run all the good schools and want to give the neighborhood folks healthcare; I regretfully concede that this whole thing is about personality.

The very very best news from Brooks: demographics for evangelical Christians are flat while secularists are multiplying as if they actually enjoyed heterosexual intercourse. The secularist movement is rockin', vibrant and freshly organized. University v. Church, Whole Foods v. Wal-Mart, etc. We might out-earn and out-live them but we've got 20 years tops before they start setting off bombs and shooting our doctors. Oh, wait those were the '90s.

Wow, Charlie Rose sure has some great guests on his show; afterwards I watched an episode of Entourage and decided that a nose job is really quite reasonable.

In other news, someone determined that it's difficult to tell what something is/was after you blow it up.

(Scalito) In a few hours...

this chap Alito will start a meteoric arc towards the coveted jumpseat on the Supreme Court. I guess he's going to replace someone only slightly more qualified than himself. Despite my liberal tendencies, I just can't muster any real optimism about defeating this fellow. The best I can do is recall accusing Judge Alito of being a cheap imitation of J. Antonin Scalia in the course of delivering a very drunken tirade to someone's video camera following an after-school party. J. Scalia is very smart and very scary. For those who value privacy and personal autonomy (the only things that really separate the yoke of our government from that of say, Saudi Arabia), Scalia's words pour like molten lead into one's ear. Alito's arguments, on the other hand, will sound in the register of a honeyed potion laced with hemlock. I can't doubt that every Democrat on the judiciary would be taken in were it not for Alito's long record of outrageous dissenting opinions. What's worse is that Mr. Alito's naturally affable demeanor and knack for diplomacy will win him lots of friends on the Court and he will almost certainly surpass Scalia in shaping some very ugly precedents.

Right after that, I demurred from a bong hit...And shyly asked if anyone in the house had "psychostimulants."

This place (that is, the intellectual landscape of the US legal system) has been going to the dogs at an alarming rate ever since I started paying attention back in '96ish. The best historical parallel we might draw is from Ronald Smye's description of the situation in Rome prior to Caesar's rise to prominence: "For revenge and as an example to deter posterity from raising dissension at Rome, Sulla outlawed his adversaries, confiscated their property and deprived their descendants of all political rights." For purposes of clarification, I'm not suggesting that any one Republican is tough enough to bear comparison to Sulla but I'm sure that between Cheney and whoever happens to be in charge of the whole redistricting fiasco (plus any complicit federal judges who ruled the exercise "constitutional"), they've got their bases covered.

inauguration

good morning.