I can see clearly now

A long time ago, I lost that youthful enthusiasm for law school. I think maybe it was September of 1L. But hard work is doing something you don't want to do . . . and keeping on doing it even after it becomes an anti-thrill. In a sense, law school is just that: learning what it means to keep on keeping on.

But I regained a shadow of that former enthusiasm yesterday after Negotiable Instruments. All through 1L, you study cases and learn doctrines that are so abstract and basic that you think either (a) they don't really happen in real life and so are utterly useless or (b) you will never have any grasp on the law as it really is--vast and complex. After a few weeks, 2L has changed those thoughts for me. I'm reading the UCC* and it starts talking about consequential damages, and that means something to me. Or I'm reading the BOC** for Bizzorg*** and LAPP starts bubbling to the surface and I realize that corporate directors are liable only for actual damages and not punitive damages because (1) the rule of implied exclusion and (2) the director relationship is kinda contract-y, and contracts only lead to actual damages, not punitive. Then, the cherry on top of this pedagogical sundae, I have an intelligent discussion by the coffee machine about whether a Marylander can use promissory estoppel to recover damages when we beat him up after promising not to beat him up.****

So I guess the point of this post is twofold. First, if there are any 1Ls who read this, rest assured that it does get better and things will cohere--just not for a long time. Second, to my fellow 2Ls: we're making progress and I can actually start seeing lawyers in each of us. Shame on us.




*If we call the TUPA "toopa," the TRPA "trippa," and the TUUNAA "tuna," then why don't we call the UCC "uck"?

**Most people pronounce this "beeyoSEE," but I propose we change it to "bach."

***Resistance is futile, yo.

****The answer is "Why not just sue for assault and battery and get the punitives p/e blocks?"

From law school dropout . . .

. . . to justice on the Supreme Court of the United States. If you get a chance, read about Stanley Forman Reed, law school transfer who then dropped out but somehow clawed his way to the Supreme Court.

Interesting Thoughts

I've been collecting a few quotes that I wanted to post and comment on, but they stand pretty well on their own. Let me know what you think.

[I]t is much easier for an active mind to acquire the virtues of patience, than for a passive one to assume those of energy.

- John Stuart Mill

El amor no es sólo un sentimiento. Es también un arte.

- Balzac

What is written without effort is in general read without pleasure.

- Samuel Johnson

I'll let you decide whether I read the likes of Mill, Balzac, and Johnson for pleasure.

Go Rangers

Sometimes you just want to hit somebody. Usually you don't.

But sometimes you do.

No stinkin' way

I had to share this. It's a Slate article about a recent study completed that suggests that liberals are more likely to respond to new stimuli in new ways than are conservatives. Anyway--it's an interest read. I don't know how valid his critique of the study is, but I'd be interested if anybody has any comments about it.

Oh--and I'd like to know if you're surprised that liberals are readier to change than conservatives . . .

wOw

Some people say that Texas has one of the most complicated court systems in the world. My limited experience with the Texas judiciary tends to confirm that thesis. I learned something today that doesn't really confirm the superlative-complexity theory, but I think it's pretty amazing: 506 main, trial-level courts of record. And of course, that doesn't include the 254 county courts, the at least 254 JP courts, the numerous county courts-at-law, the occasional county probate court, the occasional county criminal court, the municipal courts, the 14 appellate courts, or the two courts of last resort. So, I guess Texas probably has around 1,000 courts.

wOw

Good laugh

Having had braces and trying to get a job, I thought this was pretty funny:

courtesy of http://indexed.blogspot.com/

Oy vey

My dad is an accountant. Let me just say I'm not surprised. From tax homework:

A taxpayer's attempt to create some black letter law (bathed perhaps in red light) failed when the Tax Court said, in effect: Madame, the wages of sin are not exempt from taxation!

James J. Freeland, et al., Fundamentals of Federal Income Taxation: Cases and Materials, 14th Edition 62 (2006).

How real do you feel, Mrs. Peel?

Over on the Civ Pro Prof Blog, they have an anonymous student blogging about his/her experience as a first-year student in Civil Procedure. Unfortunately, Crash McAvoy (the anonymous 1L) thinks that Civ Pro is about learning to "accept procedural fairness as a substitute for finding the *truth[.]*" (Stars are his/hers.)

As the French say: hélas. Too many people think that procedural fairness and finding the truth are competing values. But the goal of our procedural system is not to be procedurally fair for the sake of procedural fairness. Rather, procedural fairness maximizes the probability of finding the truth. As my hero, John Steed, says so pithily, "Play by the rules or the game is nothing." The game of the legal system is resolving disputes. Finding the truth--and rightly resolving the dispute--when you have two opponents screaming is not an easy task. Civil (and criminal for that matter) procedure attempts to maximize the likelihood that the right party wins and that justice is done.

My (unsolicited) advice: think about civ pro like you think about logic: without it, you might get the right answer, but just because you're lucky.

I can't believe they killed Eko

Wow. First week of classes finished yesterday. Dang. So here's basically how my week went: Get up. Eat breakfast while I read yesterday's Houston Chronicle. (Note--Always tip the delivery guy after he's delivered for awhile.) Go to class. After class. After class. Come home and read. And read. And read. Go to sleep. I thought year 2 was supposed to be easier.

But in e x c e l l e n t news, Madam Registrar sent out a copy of the proposed schedule for this year, and it looks like they're offering Immigration Law in the Winter Quarter, when I can take it. Sometimes you love Baylor Law, sometimes you like it.

That's all I got.

Oh, and today, Poseur's O's were aptly named: their R-H-E line read: "0 0 0." First you lose 30-3. Then you get no-hit by a guy on his second start ever. Ouch.

Go Rangers

I'm sorry Poseur. This is just unbelievable. The Rangers beat the Orioles . . . 30-3. Yes. Thirty runs to three. According to the article, that's the most runs in a major league game . . . in modern history. The last time somebody got that many was in 1897 between teams called the Chicago Colts and the Louisville Something-or-others. Wow. And--the Rangers have only scored 28 runs in their last nine games . . . total.

Mikearoni--you were right. Texas did need another catcher. Jarrod Saltalamacchia got 2 HR and 7 RBI. Rock on. Who'd have thought the Rangers GM could make a good call?

F Q, man.

The fall quarter is nigh upon us. It should be an interesting quarter for me. I'll find out if I have any business acumen. I think not--this quarter should confirm that. Here's my schedule for the interested:

• Basic Tax & Accounting--I have some background in this area. I wrote my bachelor's thesis on the flat tax. And my dad and wife are both accountants. You guys better watch out for me when we hit the flat tax chapter.
• Business Organizations I--I have some background in this area, too. I helped an old boss of mine set up an LLP owned by an LLC (or maybe it was the other way around) so she could rent property to the state. When I say "helped," I mean that I notarized her signature and drove the papers down to Austin. Watch out, J-Fish.
• Jurisprudence--Once again, my educational history helps me out. I once took Modern Political Theory from a guy who was simultaneously running for Congress. (Can I get a witness, Mr. Robertson?) You guys better watch out when we hit the chapter about the jurisprudential nuances of running for Congress in rural quasi-west Texas.
• Negotiable Instruments--Yet again: I have written countless checks. (Or is it cheques?) Dang, J-Fish. This'll be the quarter everybody hates Alico.
• Trusts & Estates (I?)--I know all about trust. I've done both trust walks and trust falls. And I can tell you the capitals of all 50 states if I think about it for a minute. (Don't believe me? Boise, Idaho. Bam. Betcha didn't even know Idaho had a capital.*)

I'm betting on a 4.0 this quarter. Any takers?

*Ed. Note--By far, the funniest thing in Napoleon Dynamite is the travel agency: "Idago Travels."

18 states, eh?

These are the states I've visited (even if just for a few hours or just driving through). New York looks weird, doesn't it? All separate like that . . . that's because I flew there, via Charlotte. And because of the weird "great circle" phenomenon, I have no idea what states I flew over, except that I always seem to fly over the Mighty Mississippi.

Where have you been?

They don't call him "King" for nothin'

Books don't usually make me cry. Not even The Notebook or A Walk to Remember. So why does Stephen King make me tear up in Taco Bueno? This is why:

Maybe he was as mad as he said he was, but she could see only a species of miserable fright. Suddenly, like the thud of a boxing glove on her mouth, she saw how close to the edge of everything he was. The agency was tottering, that was bad enough, and now, on top of that, like a grisly dessert following a putrid main course, his marriage was tottering too. She felt a rush of warmth for him, for this man she had sometimes hated and had, for the last three hours, at least, feared. A kind of epiphany filled her. Most of all, she hoped he would always think he had been as mad as hell, and not . . . not the way his face said he felt.

Stephen King, Cujo 88 (1981). It got me thinking: maybe the most beautiful images, the most spectacularly, stunningly, disarmingly awe-inspiring images, are hidden away in stories that seem to have nothing beautiful about them. Maybe it's the juxtaposition itself that draws out the beauty so richly.

Stephen King isn't the best-selling author since Jesus because of his backcover mugshot.

All because of you, I haven't slept for so long . . .

. . . and when I do, I dream I'm drowning in the ocean.

Not really, but I thought those were pretty neat lyrics. The kind of lyrics you build a song around.

The Missus is taking me to watch my beloved Rangers get trounced by the Mariners this weekend, so I'm getting a headstart on some of my homework. Today, I was reading for Tax and came across this little gem of psychology:

Every man is likely to overemphasize and treat as fundamental those aspects of life which are his peculiar daily concern.

Lawrence A. Cunningham, Sharing Accounting's Burden: Business Lawyers in Enron's Dark Shadows, 57 Bus. Lawyer 1421 (2002), quoting Jerome N. Frank, Accounting for Investors, The Fundamental Importance of Corporate Earning Power, 68 J. Accountancy 295, 295, 300-01 (1939).

Quoth I the former SEC chairman not because of the truth of his statement (tho it bears out in my experience) but because . . . who would have thought you'd find good psychological truth in tax homework?

This is why I love law . . .

Tax Free Weekend + New Content

I have two things I've been wanting to say for a few days. First, I hope you'll notice my new content over there on the right. I call it "The Metablog." Google Reader (my new aggregator) lets me share articles and posts them right there, easy as pie. I hope you enjoy it.

And number 2. Let me tell you what tax-free weekend means to me: running out of ice. The first tax-free weekend that I worked, I was the lead closer at the Subway in the Mall. We were so dadgum busy that we ran out of ice. I had to run to the store on 19th Street to get some (and they would only let me take two ice chests full). That was about 4 o'clock. Then we ran out again, but thankfully, it was closer to closing. I've heard of restaurants running out of ice because the machine was broken, but that's the only time I've ever heard of an operational and fully functionining ice machine running out just because the restaurant was so dang busy.

I made sure to ask that day off the next year.

Well that was unexpected

A few weeks ago, Ms. Avacado and I saw our first James Bond movie all the way through: Goldeneye. I enjoyed it enough that I decided to give Ian Fleming's books a chance. Let me tell you: at least in Casino Royale (the first in the series and the only one I've read so far), Mr. Bond is unexpectedly round. He does not always have the cool and calm demeanor he is known for, though there is enough that 007 is recognizable. In my opinion, the increased complexity makes him more believable and likeable. I recommend reading the book, even if you don't think you like James Bond. It's a fast reader and highly entertaining.

No adventures para mi

The sorting hat says that I belong in Ravenclaw!

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Said Ravenclaw, "We'll teach those whose intelligence is surest."

Ravenclaw students tend to be clever, witty, intelligent, and knowledgeable.
Notable residents include Cho Chang and Padma Patil (objects of Harry and Ron's affections), and Luna Lovegood (daughter of The Quibbler magazine's editor).

Take the most scientific Harry Potter Quiz ever created.

Get Sorted Now!

Too much comfort?

Mrs. Avacado and I ate with my parents tonight at Logan's. I'm stuft. Miserably stuft. My parents have told me for years that life was so much better when they didn't have any money and you really were entertained with the fridge box somebody got you for Christmas. People are far more prosperous these days, but are they any happier? And if not, what's the point of all our prosperity? I'm not saying that I'm willing to give up all the blessings of middle class American life, but I just wonder about it. Would I be happier if I had to scrape by?

¿¿¿

Do the Rangers need another catcher?

Mas new content

On the sidebar, I've added two new features. The first feature is called "Bedside Table" and lists books that I'm currently reading. The second feature is called "Back on the Shelf" and lists the books I've read since I moved into my new house. I'm not sure if anybody cares about that kinda stuff, but it gives me the opportunity to look back in a few months and say "dadgum, I've read a buncha books. Maybe I should spend more time working on law school . . . "

. . . and yes, I really have just read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone for the first time. I was highly impressed.

The Little Tramp

Did you know that Charlie Chaplin was an immigrant?

Happy for whom?

I can't believe it. Kenny Lofton for a class-A catcher? I know Kenny's old, but he's batting .300+ and has 20+ steals. This is why the Rangers are in last . . . again.

All 6 yo

In happy news, this site has finally been visited by someone on each of the six permanently populated continents. Woohoo! By far, I'm most popular in North America, with Europe a distant second. Asia, surprisingly, comes in third, followed by South America. It appears I have had two visitors from Africa and one from Australia.

I just thought you guys would like a non-immigration post. (:

Real criminals belong in a real jail

. . . and those we pretend are criminals belong in a pretend-jail. Kinda like in prison dodgeball. Anti-immigration rhetoric is rife with statements like, "I don't mind immigration, but they have to do it legally," which is really just a boringly polite way to say that you prefer law-abiding people to criminals. But the fact is--illegal presence in the United States is not the kind of crime that we think of when we label someone a criminal. The wrong done when you illegally enter the United States is that of disrespect, not the kind of moral wrong that underscores penal statutes regarding murder, robbery, assault, rape, and fraud. Those are bad things and have always been illegal. Crossing an imaginary line so you can feed your kids without getting the permission of the people on the other side of the line . . . well, I'm not advocating illegal immigration, I'm just saying it's not the same thing as rape. Let's keep rapists and illegal immigrants in separate categories.

Contrary to what you may have thought, the Bible speaks out against anti-immigration laws: Exodus 22:1 and 23:9, Leviticus 19:33-34*, Deuteronomy 24:17 and 27:19, and Zechariah 7:10 all command the people of God (at that time Israel, now the Christian catholic** Church) to love foreigners/aliens/strangers and treat them as if they were natives. Sure, there are verses that tell us that, as Christians, we are to obey the law of the land . . . but only when it does not conflict with God's commands. God clearly commands that his own due process clause (Matthew 22:39: Love your neighbor as yourself, without meaningless distinctions (cf. Romans 10:12)) applies to all persons, regardless of where they were born or who they are. Again, I'm not advocating illegal immigration, but let's at least be honest in the debate and not lump illegal immigrants in the same box as rapists and murderers (whom we should love as ourselves, anyway).

All this as preface so that I can say "amen" to this Slate article: The Pardon Pander, by Bruce Fein. If the guys obstructed justice, then they need to be punished appropriately.

I'm sad to report that I cannot determine how any of my Congresspeople voted. If anybody can find a vote list, please put a link in the comments.




*This verse is my favorite one of those listed, so I'll spell it out for you here, from the NASB: "The [immigrant] who resides with you shall be to you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt."

**The little c in catholic was intentional. Look it up, you bum.

Well, if Al Sharpton can agree with Wal*Mart on something . . .

Then he must be right. Check it out.

Also--check out this article on nj.com explaining why the argument that "my ancestors came here legally" is probably wrong.

Los Inmigrantes del Día

About every day or so, one of the blogs I read has a post entitled "Immigrant of the Day." The posts serve two purposes for me: (1) They remind me that there is something about being American that doesn't come from where you're born; and (2) They surprise with me who all has migrated. Surprising immigrants (at least to me) include Felix Frankfurter, Madeleine Albright, and Andrew Carnegie. America has been built on the shoulders of immigrants. When I think that the immigrant of the day is particularly interesting, I'll go ahead and post a link here. I encourage you, of course, to read up on immigration. The more you know, the angrier you'll get at our system.

Enjoy!

Supreme Bears?

There's an interesting post at SCOTUSblog about potential nominees by a Republican president for the Supreme Court. I don't know much about politics and who's who among potential Supreme Court nominees, but I have this to say about that: out of 14 listed possibles, only 1 came from the greatest law school in America. Interesting numbers below.

Law schools represented:

• Baylor (1)
• U of Chicago (1)
• Hahvahd (6)
• South Texas College of Law** (1)
• St. Mary's** (1)
• Tulane (1)
• U of the Pacific (McGeorge School of Law)* (1)
• UVa (1)
• Yalie (1)

And the following undergrads represented:

• Baylor (1)
• Columbia (1)
• Florida State U (1)
• Georgetown (1)
• Michigan State (1)
• Northeast Louisiana State (1)
• Princeton (2)
• (Southwest) Texas State** (1)
• Stanford (1)
• U of Texas (1)
• Trinity in San Antonio (1)
• Washington & Lee (1)
• Yale (1)

Hmm. Out of 14 short-listed people, 6 are Hahvahd lawyers. Deep sociological question: are they nominated because they went to Hahvahd or did they go to Hahvahd because the kind of people who get nominated to the Supreme Court go to Hahvahd?

*Interestingly, this guy went to Stanford. Weird, huh?

**I know, I know. How did they get on the "short list"?

I always say: flip a coin . . .

. . . and if you don't like the answer you get, go with your gut. Turns out that's not a bad idea.

I've been running behind on my blog reading, so tonight while Mrs. Avacado does a take-home final, I'm reading all about psychology. Very interesting stuff, generally, but this article in particular struck me. In agreement with information overload theories, I've thought for awhile that we just can't consciously handle all the information we get, especially for big decisions. Example: My 18 months in family law were great, but there's a lot of emotional wear & tear from that, plus I really want to learn Spanish (which can apparently help you live longer: ¡Viva español!) and I work better in a rules-oriented environment than a personality-oriented environment, so maybe immigration law is my meal ticket, but I like to philosophize about the deeper issues and help people make really tough decisions plus I'm good with numbers, so maybe estate planning. Argh.

See? Too much information, too many factors to weigh. But apparently my subconscious doesn't care about all that. It makes a shortcut decision based on factors I may not realize I'm thinking about. Does that mean that it always gets the answer right? Not necessarily. But, as the author points out (and as some studies recently have shown*), it does about as well as thinking it through thoroughly.

So tonight, I'm going to bracketologize my life choices, flip coins, and go with my gut.



This just in: Slate published an article entitled: Should you trust your "gut feeling"? It's worth a read.




*The details are all fuzzy, but I seem to remember that they did a study recently comparing the results of an intentionally managed hedge fund with one managed based on the results of hockey games, and the hockey game fund did better. Weird, huh?

Gary Johnson: Fence border? You're joking

This editorial in the Trib is one of the best essays I've seen about why building a fence along the Mexican border is just about the dumbest thing I've ever heard. I haven't been able to articulate why it's such a bad idea, but he takes some good swings at it. Let me know what you think. (It's not too long.)

Madness, I tell you

Apparently, there are too many lawyers in Wisconsin. The solution? Shut down the public law school by cutting off funding. That is pure madness.

New Content

My frequent readers will realize that I have added some new content on the right side of this site. It's called "Cruisin' USA" (yes, in honor of the classic arcade game), and it has links to some dream road trips I have. Right now--as I'm typing this--there is only one link (West Coast Trip), but I plan to add more. Please feel free to make your own trip and put it in the comments. I'm interested to see where everybody would want to go.

My dream West Coast Trip has the following key destinations:
- Roswell, NM
- the Grand Canyon
- the Hoover Dam
- Death Valley
- Sequoia National Park
- the Golden Gate Bridge
- the Salinas Valley (the setting for East of Eden).

Where would you go?

Desperate for Why

Stephen King gets a bit of a bad rap, but he's an incredible writer. There's a reason that he is the best-selling of all time, except for maybe Shakespeare and God. Right now, I'm reading Desperation. Check this quote:

"Why didn't you kill me like you did that guy back there? Billy? Or does it even make any sense to ask? Are you beyond why?"

"Oh s***, we're all beyond why, you know that."

My friend Mark tells me that economics is based on the idea that people act rationally given the information they have. I tend to agree. What do you think? Do we tend to make rational, if mis- or ill-informed, decisions? Or is it foolish even to try to explain why people act as they do?

NO F***ING FREEDOM OF SPEECH

I ran across this post today. Apparently, in some parts of America, you can't walk into the courthouse wearing shirts talking about f***ing. Talk about selective reporting. This is a perfect example of civil rights being violated without a thought by those who actually have power: the enforcer. This should be front page news, but my paper hasn't reported on it yet.*




* I don't have any idea whether this actually violates the First Amendment since I haven't taken Con Law or Civ Lib. I really only posted about this because I thought the T-shirt was funny.

Question fo' my peeps

Osler and Poseur have both listed these rules for being a good blogger. One of the rules is to update regularly. Should I update if I don't have anything interesting to say? Should I just blog about some other blog? I'm curious what my loyal readers would prefer. I guess I'm asking: would you rather have something interesting to read about once a week (what I shoot for) or just something to read every day?

MSM: right or left?

I grew up in a relatively conservative community, and I attended a relatively conservative college. So it's no surprise that I generally view the mainstream media as being relatively liberally biased. But today I ran across an interesting post. Apparently, the mainstream media are really in the pocket of the ultraconservatives, who ask them not to investigate the reality of the American health care system.

But isn't the media really a business? Don't they just report on what they think (in their well-researched opinions) their clientele want to hear? What I'm saying is: the mainstream media reflects what the market wants, which is what newswatchers want.

So if the mainstream media isn't reporting on something, doesn't it suggest that the mainstream doesn't care about it?

Jose Crow?

The editor-in-chief of the Waco Tribune-Herald published an interesting op-ed today. I don't know enough about the recently failed immigration reform bill to say whether it should have passed or not, but I believe in immigration. America without immigration is an America I don't want to live in.

It's 1980 all over again, only we're not in Washington

Today, the Baylor Blawgosphere suffered an enormous earthquake: Swanburg is taking a hiatus. It seems he thinks that getting a dual degree (MBA+JD) will serve him better in his chosen career. If I remember correctly, he wants to build golf courses. Anyway--he's offered his job as #1 social columnist at B(L)S to whoever wants it. No one has asked me to fill in his shoes, but I'll go ahead and decline. My party schedule is pretty booked between now and when he returns to the edge of the Brazos. So packed, in fact, that I won't be able to blog on the Baylor Law party scene. (FYI--I think Rhett Butler had a party a few weeks ago. Or maybe it's in a few weeks. I'm partying so hard I don't know when it is.) Somehow, though, I'll find time to blog on the books I'm reading and the philosophy I'm thinking. (Reading and thinking between parties, of course.)

OK OK. The real reason I'm sticking to my genre is because a friend of mine, a link in the chain of my happiness, is marrying Hugh Grant on 7/7/7. She would rather attend four weddings and a funeral than hear about Baylor gossip, so I'll stick to my books and philosophy.

And as my nominee to fill in Swanburg's shoes: Searcey! There are two reasons I think Searcey should fill the void: (1) He's from Plano. That's really reason enough right there. (2) I can beat him at ping pong.

I think that about covers what I wanted to talk about. I'd tell you about my week at work, but I've just been dictating deposition summaries and then editing them. See? You already fell asleep.

And all because I'm a lover not a fighter

I remember growing up, we would pick teams to play good guys and bad guys . . . and I'd want to be the mediator so that we could talk things out. "But avacadojer, the Joker is crazy. He and Batman can't just sit down and work their problems out like decent human beings."

So I guess I'm kinda surprised that I'm . . .



. . . Jean Grey. Argh. This is what they told me:

You scored as Jean Grey, Jean Grey is likely the most powerful X-Man. She loves Cyclops very much but she has a soft spot for Wolverine. She's psychic so she can sense how others are feeling and tries to help them. She also has to control her amazing powers or the malevolent Phoenix entity could take control of her and wreak havok. Powers: Telekinetic, Telepathic Jean Grey 60% Nightcrawler 60% Beast 60% Gambit 55% Storm 55% Iceman 55% Colossus 50% Emma Frost 50% Rogue 45% Cyclops 40% Wolverine 35% Most Comprehensive X-Men Personality Quiz 2.0 created with QuizFarm.com

But you'll note that Nightcrawler and the Beast were both tied for number 1. (The tiebreaker question made me answer whether I was into technology, something I can't remember, or avoid violence. I chose the avoid-the-violence answer. Blast.)

My assault on logic continues

I ran across this article on Newsweek.com and thought it was highly interesting. Apparently, what I always thought was right: Republicans are emotional basketcases who can't make rational decisions and Democrats are godless intellectuals who want to rationalize an irrational world. I think this calls for champagne.

Lógico es malo

[NOTE--Please stay tuned for what I hope is an interesting thought about logic.]

The Silence of the Lambs is an enjoyable, highly thought-provoking book. There is a scene where Clarice is talking to Dr. Lecter in his cell in Baltimore. Dr. Lecter asks her about her background, noting that, although she carries an expensive purse, she wears cheap shoes. From this, he determines that she is a cop's daughter trying to escape some nightmare from her past. It's similar to the kind of syllogisms that House, Sherlock Holmes, and Robert Goren make. Drs. Lecter and House and Detectives Holmes and Goren usually capitalize on some obscure detail that opens a clear avenue of logical certainty and conclusion.

It reminds me of an old Encyclopedia Brown story. I don't remember any details of the story, but (Bad, Bad?)Leroy Brown solves the crime by determining that Bugs Meany was lying. How? Because, when referring to his shirt pocket, Bugs drew the outline on the right side of his chest instead of the left. Most men's shirts have pockets (if at all) on the left side. Tada! Bugs = liar = criminal. Book'im Sally Kimball.

What?

Oliver Wendell Holmes said "The life of the law has not been logic; it has been experience." Just so, the life of medicine and crime-fighting has been experience, not logic. Those doctors and detectives make these great conclusions not based on the syllogisms they pretend to construct but based on their own life experiences. Encyclopedia solved that crime because his experience told him that all the tiny little factors (among which the lie [equivocation?] about the shirt pocket was only one) pointed to the culprit. If you're like me and you think that Sherlock, House, Hannibal, Goren, and Encyclopedia are how you want to be*, the only way to acquire those skills is to live life and pay attention.

So--lógico es malo because it only takes you so far, though it pretends to take you much farther. Life, however, is too complicated to fit neatly into a syllogism. At some point, you have to stop being rational and let your own experience give you the answers. Is that comfortable? No, especially if you don't have much experience, como mío.

Just out of curiosity, would anybody watch a TV show (maybe just an episode, say) where House's logical jumps proved wrong every step of the way?




*Well, maybe I don't want to be like Hannibal . . .

Carro nuevo!!

This past Monday, Desiree and I became the proud new owners of a 2006 Scion xA. Scion is owned by Toyota and marketed toward the younger generation, bringing Toyota's quality and benefits within our price range. I grew up driving Fords, but I may be a Toyota fan now. Of course, we'll have to see how things go from here on out.

Satisfied customers are the best marketing, so here goes: Go to Jeff Hunter Toyota/Scion/Lexus/Chrysler/bla bla bla on Highway 6 in Waco, and ask for Dale. He's a friendly salesman and not too pushy. Then you should ask for Aaron when it gets down to signing time. Those two guys helped us, and they did very well.

Hannibal the Cannibal

It's funny how school ends and you start reading like crazy. I'm not sure how much I've read since school let out, but it's a lot, I can tell you that. I've just finished Thomas Harris's The Silence of the Lambs. It was an interesting book with a few thought-provoking comments on the human condition, but it wasn't nearly as scary as I expected. It was, however, rather gritty.

Anyway, I wanted to make three comments.

1 - The author, Thomas Harris, graduated from Baylor University in the 1960s and worked for the Waco Tribune-Herald before heading off to work for the AP in New York. I wonder if he got the idea for this story from some crime in Waco . . .

2 - Hannibal Lecter's film counterpart was ranked the #1 villain in film history, and Clarice Starling (the hero) was the top-ranked female hero at #6. I haven't seem the movie (yet--I plan on renting it this weekend). Clarice may deserve it, but Hannibal wasn't that "evil" in this book; he was actually rather charming and sympathetic.* In fact, the most active villain was Jame Gumb and Clarice had the most conflict with Dr. Chilton. Weird, huh? Reading this book felt like watching The Empire Strikes Back before A New Hope. Like the famed Episode V, this book seems to be bridging between two storylines (told in Red Dragon and Hannibal, maybe?), but it can stand on its own.

3 - This novel leaves probably the best hole for a sequel ever. I won't go into detail so that I don't ruin the ending for anybody, but if you've read it, you know what I'm talking about. The book actually resolves at the end and you can rest, but you know there's more to the story.

This book isn't on my list of the greatest books ever written, but it's entertaining and worthwhile. If nothing else, read it because you have some tie to Waco, as does the author.

*Should I be worried about myself--sympathizing with Hannibal Lecter?

Conflatulations are in order

Although my sources have not been confirmed yet, one of the most vocal of my commenters, the famed Mikeanesa Mayoroni, has made law review. Congratulations, Mike. Seems like yesterday we were scoping the competition during orientation, now you don't have to look anymore. You've made barrister and law review.

Can I have your outlines next fall?

El Fin

It is the end of an era. In April 1996, my dad left the house driving a 1987 Honda Civic and came back driving a 1996 Ford Thunderbird. My brother took it to his senior prom; I took it to mine. This was the first car my mom let me drive after I got my learner's permit in the summer of 1998. In July 2000, we sold the 1994 Ford Tempo I'd been driving and my parents let me start driving this one. I drove it all through college, including into the rear-end of a Suburban who didn't know how to signal he wanted to turn. Yesterday, it had a lot of trouble, and I had to leave it, all too fittingly, at the old Dairy Queen in Hewitt. Today, it was pronounced dead by my mechanic, Jesse el Mecánico.*

In many ways, I grew up in this car. I remember many nights sitting out in the bitter cold while my mom finished grocery shopping. I remember spilling a root beer in the back seat and thinking my mom was going to kill me. (She didn't.) I remember innumerable trips to Ranger to visit my grandparents with my brother in the front seat and me in the back. Like my parents' old house in Hewitt (where we lived for 7 years), this car represents my coming of age.

When I got the car, I was 17 years old, and it was 37,000 miles old. The next summer, I drove mile 50,000 on the way to church to meet with a guy named Eric about a mission trip. This past winter, I drove mile 100,000. Just before Christmas 2000, my stereo was stolen out of this car in broad daylight at about 3:00 pm on a Saturday at the mall. I learned that the governor kicked in at 107 in sundry scary ways. This car, though I never "loved" it, has been with me now for a very long time. I know it very well, and if it weren't inanimate, it would know me very well.

And now it's dead. Rest in peace, T-bird. You've served me well.






*Incidentally, if anybody needs a good mechanic, Jesse el Mecánico es muy bien. I'll give you his number if you need something done.

Conocerme

Para mis amigos Latinos--bienvenidos. I've changed the little language things on my blog to Spanish. Why? I'm glad you asked . . .

Tonight, I read this post over on the blog Alien & Sedition. The hatred comes off those comments like steam from a radiator. I've been following the immigration reform debates, and I've even asked Craig to talk about the LDS view on immigration. And why? The first Mastens allegedly came over sometime in the 1680s, and I'm 1/8 Native American. If anybody has a claim on being American, 'tis I. So why am I so concerned?

My junior year in high school, we read two books that changed my life and my way of thinking. First, we read Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath, then we read John Howard Griffin's Black Like Me. These two books opened my eyes to the reality of hatred. People really do hate other people. I had never experienced anything like that before. I knew then that I wanted to do something to fight the good fight and to fight against hate, but I never knew how. Later, in college, I read John Grisham's The Street Lawyer and thought I could fight hatred by being a Legal Aid lawyer. Then I worked for a family lawyer in Brownwood, Texas. There, I discovered that people just plain need help getting through our legal system. While I was working there, my boss had my research some immigration issues, and I began discovering how insane our immigration system is.

Did you know, for example, that some family-based visa petitions by Filipinos are backlogged all the way back to 1985? Twenty-two years ago, mi amigo Jose el Filipino put in his visa application. He's still waiting on an answer. And did you know that the visa is just the first step? Yes, in fact, a visa only gives you permission to travel to a port of entry. Then you have to get a "status" so that you can stay in America for any period of time. Now imagine that you don't have the benefit of speaking English (the language all these laws and regulations are written in), nor do you have the benefit of the stellar* American educational system.

Maybe it doesn't make your heart burn, but it does mine.

I can't help wondering: have I stumbled upon my "destiny"?

*At least stellar in the sense that everybody gets to go to school.

How do we get there?

My second-to-last post had some interesting responses by ALV, Mikearoni, and Craig. Some avacado kid got on there and posted junk. I may block his next comments. Anyway, I wanted to pose what I think is an interesting problem.

Logic demands that a supreme being of some sort exists, or at least a Prime Mover. I think I've explained the syllogism before, but just in case, here it is:

- No event occurs without at least one cause.
- The first event occurred (perhaps the creation of the universe or of God?) without a cause.
> There must be some causeless event that defies the normal limits of logic.

The causeless event I refer to as the "Prime Mover," but many people refer to it as "God." So I want to know: by what method can we determine which Prime Mover of the dozens proffered by various religions is the true Prime Mover? I'm not asking which Prime Mover you think is the correct one, but how you think people should decide.

Pudge Catches Another

I know that I've been asked not to blog about baseball. But today was cool. The Detroit Tigers' Justin Verlander threw a no-hitter against the Milwaukee Brewers. And the Angels' Kelvin Escobar got 14 strikeouts . . . in 6 innings. That means that out of 18 outs, 14 were by strikeout.

And in other news, my high school classmate Zach Duke got his third win of the season. The happiness I feel for Frances*, tho, is negated a little by the fact that he beat my Rangers. Ah well--way to go Zach.

That's what I call a cool day for pitching.




*For some odd reason, in our senior physics class, I called Mr. Duke "Frances" and he called me "Sally." That's my claim to fame.

The Perfect Man for the Job

I got some good responses to my last post, for which I'm grateful. ALV mentioned what I think of as the "that-couldn't-be-coincidence" theory of destiny. That is, we are who we are because of the perfect (and improbable) combination of highly improbable past events that lead us to where and who we are. These events (and their combination) are so improbable that there must be some greater plan at work. (I have a few logical problems with the theory, but I'll let that slide.*) When I'm not in school, I'm a readin' fool, and I just finished another book that talks about destiny, but in the that-couldn't-be-coincidence fashion.

Scott Turow's eighth novel, Limitations, brings us back to George Mason, the criminal defense lawyer/protaganist from Personal Injuries.** By the time of Limitations, Mr. Mason has been elected to the court of appeals for Kindle County, where he has sat for the past nine years (largely because of the fame he acquired from the events in Personal Injuries). The story begins with Mason's panel hearing the oral argument in an appeal from a gang-rape conviction where the prosecution was brought just three months after the statute of limitations had run. (And thus should be barred by the statute of limitations.) After argument, we sit in on the conference where Mason learns that he will draft the opinion. As the story develops, we learn that Mason himself was once involved in a gang-rape-type situation, and he begins to wonder if he is the right man for the job of determining these young men's fate.

For my non-lawyer readers, you're thinking: "Who cares if it was brought three months late? We're talking about gang-rapists! They deserve the chair!" You're right--emotionally. But our society seeks justice from a system of laws--not of emotions. As John Steed said, "Play by the rules, Mrs. Peel, or the game is nothing." Justice is no game, but the truth of the statement rings even truer: without the rules of justice, our legal system is worthless. We could never be sure that the right kids got the chair. Now to get off my legal soapbox . . .

Mason begins to wonder whether he, with his history, has any qualifications to judge the case. Turow tries to suggest that Mason's whole life has been leading up to this point, to this decision, but the philosophizing sags in the end. He leaves the qualifications-plot for another plot (a less interesting but more exciting plot) and, when he returns to this question, it's magically resolved. The question is presented, however, whether Mason's past put him where he was or whether he put himself where he was because of his past. Was he trying to escape his past (one-time gang rapist who left Virginia for midwestern Kindle County)? Or did that past shape him into the defense lawyer and judge he became? For me--am I who I am because I'm trying to compensate for who I used to be? Or did being who I used to be make me who I am? Or is it both?

I'll close with my favorite from the book: "As a defense lawyer, [Mason] refused to condemn his clients. Everyone else in the system--the cops, the prosecutors, the juries and judges--would take care of that; they didn't need his help." As a lawyer, I hope one day to hold to that ideal. The good lawyer fights for the scum of the earth because, like the supposedly good people, they deserve a hero, too.




* Mainly, my problem is that an improbable past only makes the present improbable, not necessary (i.e., "destined"). The fact that a past is improbable makes it more likely that an improbable present is necessary or pre-ordained, but it is not "proven" in the typical logical sense. In other words, it's like saying that breaking your arm must have been destined merely because you broke your arm. That strikes me as tautological (and thus illogical). But who says that logic tells us everything we need to know?

** This is the first time Turow has brought back a main character as a main character. Of interest to long-time Turow readers: Rusty Sabich, the protaganist and accused in Turow's first novel, Presumed Innocent, has now been made chief judge of the court of appeals and makes a cameo appearance as Mason's good friend and handball rival. Personally, I'd have rather seen Sandy Stern, the protaganist of Pleading Guilty, return. But hey--he's the bestselling novelist.

The Godfather and C.S. Lewis???

A few days ago, I finished Mario Puzo's The Godfather. I don't feel any need to discuss the plot, since it was pretty accurately adapted to the big screen. The book may not be quite the classic that the film is, but it was one of the better books I've read.

Toward the end of the book, the narrator explains "Many young men start[] down a false path to their true destiny. Time and fortune usually set them aright." That's what I want to talk about.

Growing up Baptist, I didn't believe much in "true destiny." Nor was I taught to believe in "fortune," but everybody does anyway. In fact, I kinda view destiny as a theory for the lazy: just sit back and let destiny make you who you're going to be. But it occurs to me now that my destiny may be shaped by the very fact that I think a lot about who I'll be in ten years. Maybe that's "fortune's" effect on my life: I had the fortune of being a thinker and a dreamer. Maybe it's my destiny to ponder the imponderables.

But I want to know: do any of my readers believe in destiny? And if so, what do you think of it? Do you think destiny refers to a station in life? a series of events? Can you miss your destiny? Are we born who we'll be when we die? or does destiny shape us as we grow?

What do I think about destiny? I tend to agree with what C.S. Lewis wrote in The Great Divorce: free will is a bigger truth than predestination. I'm not sure what that means, but I think I like it.

Go Ducks Go

Because I'm apparently one of the few hockey fans left in the United States (but I don't watch sports on TV) and in honor of President Scott, I thought I'd let you all know--the (formerly) Mighty Ducks of Anaheim are the world champions of hockey.

And they didn't even need Emilio Estevez . . .

Legal(un)e(a)se

Today I read an article about juries and their ability to follow jury instructions. I'm not a lawyer yet, but I've read plenty of cases dealing with jury instructions that presume that juries can and do follow instructions. The article suggests, however, that juries actually follow the non-verbal communication from the judge because they don't understand or can't follow the legalese in the jury instructions. This exemplifies an interesting question of linguistics: how can we be sure that we both mean the same thing when we use the same word?

The article slyly teases lawyers for arguing about the exact wording of jury instructions, as if the difference between "intentionally" and "purposefully" doesn't matter to the average juror. They're probably right, but shouldn't it matter? I think so. I think that specific words are very important because of the hundreds of connotations and feelings they stir up and the impact those feelings and connotations have on my client's life. The difference between "intentionally" and "purposefully" may be the difference between, say, life (in prison) and death (by lethal injection).

Wittgenstein argued in one of his last books that philosophy would devolve into a war of dictionaries. He said that when philosophy reached that point, it would become useless to the average person and atrophy from apathy, fading into irrelevance. It looks like the law has already devolved into a war of dictionaries. With the recent trends toward alternative dispute resolution, is the law going to fade into irrelevance? Will my law degree, like my poli sci degree, be useless in a few years?

iAlico

This past weekend, I bought a green iMac at a garage sale for $20. It's got Mac OS 9.2 and makes a high-pitched whining noise when it runs. So far, it's underwhelming, but then 9.2 seems very similar to Windows 3.1, at least superficially. It reminds me a lot of my jr high days, writing those pseudo-English papers in Helvetica and in Claris Works. Maybe now when I pass Steve Jobs in the hall, he'll acknowledge my existence. He won't say hi yet (I only dropped an Andy; there were no Benjamins in my wallet I'm afraid), but we'll get there. (I'm posting this while sitting on my bed working on my PC. The iMac isn't as portable as this is, I'm afraid.)

The problem is: it's Mac OS 9.2. I wanted to explore OS X. So I'm thinking about trying out some Linux on it, specifically Xubuntu. Does anybody have any experience with Linux or Xubuntu? If so, please let me know. Otherwise, I will let you know how it goes in the next few days. Or if you think that OS 9.2 is just so dadgum good that I oughtta try it anyway, tell me that, too.

Who says Rangers' fans don't suffer?

Growing up, I was a huge baseball fan. You all know the story: strike of 1994 and I got out of baseball. But I've never stopped loving my Rangers. I've been to a few games here and there since 1994, but this summer, I decided to really play catch-up and give baseball a chance.* How has baseball repaid me? Well, the Rangers are fighting the Royals for worst record in baseball. Right now, we're a game back: we're 19-34 to their 19-35, at least according to Yahoo! a few minutes ago. My backup team, the Astros, meanwhile is working on breaking their own team record for longest losing streak. They've extended it now to 10 games, after having lost to the worst team in the National League. Argh. Why?

More importantly, why don't I like football, basketball, or even hockey as much as I like baseball? The Cowboys haven't done so well recently, but they're football's Yankees.** We all know that Jerry Jones = George Steinbrenner. 'Nuff said. (I apologize to my Houstonian readers: my dad is a die-hard Cowboys fan, so we never heard much about the Oilers or the Texans. I can't comment on their worth.)

And basketball! The Dallas Mavericks have a stinkin awesome season, even if their playoffs were a little reminiscent of the Rangers' postseasons. But last year they made it to the finals. And the Rockets made it to the playoffs this season, not to mention the two championships they took home in the 1990s. And the Spurs! Working on their 4th title in recent times and arguably the best team in the NBA. Why don't I like basketball as much as baseball?

Even hockey has done better in Texas than baseball. Since moving to Dallas in 1993, the Stars have won a Stanley Cup, two conference championships, and six division titles. Come on. Hockey? Hockey is my number 2 sport, but doesn't it strike anyone as odd that a Texas team should be good at hockey?

Now to compare. Since moving to Texas in 1972, the Rangers have won . . . a whole lotta nothin. They won a division title here and there in the 1990s (after baseball went to three divisions), but they've always lost to baseball's Cowboys in the best-of-five series at the start of the postseason. (Who can complain about a .100 winning percentage in the postseason? Go Rangers!) The Astros have fared better, taking home 6 division titles in the past 45 years . . . at least they made it to the World Series, even if they did get swept in four games . . .

Sheesh. Maybe I should follow everybody else and give up on baseball.

This just in: the Astros beat the Reds, the NL's worst team, 10-2 to snap their 10-game losing streak. Maybe there is hope in the world . . .





* Why? Because Mark McGwire didn't get in the Hall, but both Tony Gwynn and Cal Ripken Jr. did. The long-ball no me gusta.

** Note--You can only be a Yankees fan if you're from New York. Likewise, you can only be a Cowboys fan if you're from Texas, maybe only from any part of Texas other than Houston.

Ghetto Booty

In 4th grade, I had a crush on a girl. We made rock candy in class, and I was looking at mine on the window sill. This girl comes up to me and starts to talk about how hers isn't doing so well. Maestro of social situations that I was, I ran away and hid. I said nothing to her. I don't think I ever talked to her again, even though I went to school with her from 4th grade on to graduation. We were both new kids that year, so we could have been friends, but we weren't. Why? Because I was a dadgum shy kid.

Three years later, in 7th grade, I took speech. I had signed up for art, but that didn't work out. In speech, we had to get up each day and participate in "roll call," which basically consisted of standing up and answering some dumb question. My social breakthrough came one day when we had to give a favorite quote in a foreign accent or, if we didn't have a favorite quote, then we could just say anything we wanted to. I didn't have a favorite quote, so I came up with something ingenious. Imagine a bad German/French accent: "So zere ve vere: lockt in a room vissout sheez."

To my shock, people laughed. I had never had people laugh at anything I had said before, especially not anything in public. People had laughed at me before, but not like this. I loved it. From then on, I started volunteering for public speaking situations. I would go on mission trips and youth camps just so that afterward I could participate in the testimony night and get up in front of everybody and be a ham.

Five years later, I was the cool senior in the sophomore choir (and bass section leader. Bam.). For the spring concert, we had to break up into groups of 3-5 kids and pretend like we were mingling at a 1950s school dance. I wandered over to a group that consisted of another senior whom I knew and two sophomore girls. I stuck myself in the situation, I pretended I was witty and interesting, and three years later, I married one of those sophomores. It's suggestive at least that you can change your social abilities. I'm not saying I'm the best or that I've "never met a stranger." After all, my wife was a stranger once.

I said I didn't have a favorite quote in 7th grade. Now, my favorite quote comes off a Starbucks cup:

I used to feel so alone in the city. All those gazillions of people
and then me, on the outside. Because how do you meet a new person? I
was very stumped by this for many years. And then I realized, you just
say, "Hi." They may ignore you. Or you may marry them. And
that possibility is worth that one word.

Augusten Burroughs said that. I said hi to a cute sophomore once, and she ended up marrying me.

Why people hate lawyers . . .

. . . but you gotta admit--the hair is a w e s o m e.

ps--I haven't been posting because I've been moving. As soon as we get everything livable, I'll be back online. Thanks for your patience!

Ahem. Scratch that.

So scratch everything I said yesterday: Finger length predicts SAT performance.

I'm the decider.

Tonight, I was eating dinner with my wife and in-laws when my father-in-law says, "You know, happiness is a choice." Apparently, so is being smart.

Growing up, I was a decent student. From about 4th grade on, I was an all-A's-and-one-B kinda guy. I graduated high school with a meager 95.6/100 average; not very impressive. My wife graduated with a 104*/100, and she was 4th in her class. I earned my 95.6 by making a B almost every six-weeks and even throwing a C or two in there for fun. By college, tho, I decided to work hard and do well. At Harvard Pain, I earned 3 B's: one in Biology, one in Logic, and one on my bachelor's thesis. The rest, I'm proud to say, were A's.**

I'm not spouting all this to brag. When your school has a checkbook-and-a-pulse admissions policy***, getting an A in a curve-grading class is not that difficult. But the point is, I worked harder in college than I did in high school, and I did better both comparatively and objectively. How did I do that? I don't know; I just did. I guess I believed that I could change the strength of my brain muscle. I'm another example of the theory espoused in that article.

Rivers Cuomo said it right when he said "If you want it, you can have it, but you've got to learn to reach out there and grab it."




*Ed. Note--AP classes got a 1.125 multiplier. For example, a 100 on your report card translated to a 112.5 for gpa purposes.

**Ed. Note--In high school, I earned a C in chemistry one six-weeks. In college, I got the high A. Better teacher, or better attitude?

***Ed. Note--If I have to explain this to you, you may not have been able to get in to HPU.

Tres años

Right now, it's 10:24 p.m. At this time, exactly three years ago, I was drinking my 83rd coke of the day and watching my friends play Dance, Dance. I remember commenting to my friend Marcus that cokes usually calmed me down, but that I was so nervous I was shaking. His wedding party partner, one of my wife's best friends, commented that I was probably shaking because I'd drunk 83 cokes.

Twenty-four hours later, I was getting honked at by a trucker on I-35 while heading up to a Hilton in Dallas. The next morning, we flew out of DFW to PBI, where I saw the Atlantic Ocean for the first time. It was a week of firsts: first taxi ride, first rental car, first dinner on the beach. There may have been more . . .

And now here it is three years later. In some circles, I'm a veteran of married life; in others, I'm still a newlywed. Some people have told me: "The first three years are the hardest; after that, you've got it made." Others have put the number at five years, others at seven. One guy told me that the first 30 years were the most important and set the tone for the real part of your marriage.

Well, here's to the next 27 years so that I can start the real part of my marriage.

If my best could equal his worst...

I am generally opposed to the use of quotes out of principle. Quotes tend to do two harmful things: (1) encourage short attention spans and (2) force the hearer to add context (often distorting the intended meaning). Last night, I finished John Steinbeck's The Winter of Our Discontent and was vaguely disappointed. To be honest, I don't think I get the big picture. This wasn't Steinbeck's best, but if my best could equal his worst, I'd be set for life.

It did, however, have at least 18 quotable passages. I thought about sharing all of them, but I think one will suffice. The protaganist, Ethan Hawley, is a clerk at a grocery store he used to own, much to the chagrin of his wife and children. His wife's friend and quasi-lady-of-the-night, Mrs. Margie Young-Hunt, reads his tarot cards to say that he would soon make a fortune. Trying to make some inroads with that fortune before it arrives, she goes to his store and flirts with him quite obviously and suggestively, including by "bouncing her behind." That night, she's a dinner guest at the Hawley house as an invitee of Ethan's wife, Mary. He notes:

In the morning the out-of-coffee Margie was set for me like a bear trap. The same evening she drew a bead on Mary. If her behind bounced, I couldn't see it. If anything was under her neat suit, it was hiding. She was a perfect guest--for another woman--helpful, charming, complimentary, thoughtful, modest. She treated me as though I had taken on forty years since the morning. What a wonderful thing a woman is. I can admire what they do even if I don't understand why.

People often do crazy things for rational, irrational, and a-rational reasons. That's part of what makes us human. The job of the lawyer is, at its most basic, to prevent and resolve disputes between people. The only way to do that effectively is to understand why people do what they do, why they make the decisions they make. I chose to study law because it seems to recognize that people rarely act truly rationally. After one year studying law, I think I made the right decision. After two weeks clerking for insurance defense lawyers, I'm even more convinced that lawyers are the highest paid psychologists in the world.

Plus, we don't have to deal with the whole "pseudo-science" allegations psychologists have to face.

Robocop --> T Rex?

One of Michael Crichton's first novels was The Terminal Man. Definitely not his best novel, but give the guy a break. It was published in the early 1970s and dealt with a big fear of the early 1970s: computers taking over the world. Well, I say we'd better hope that Jurassic Park isn't as prophetic as The Terminal Man is proving to be.

Today, while I was perusing my blogs, I ran across this highly interesting piece. In it, the author contemplates the evolution of the relationship between humans and computers through the limited scope of man vs. machine chess matches. His conclusion is one of hope and triumph (machines can be no smarter than the programmers, so computers will always be dumber than people--but even if they're not, way-to-go people for making such a dang smart machine), but he talks about some interesting things there at the end. For example, he talks about how some kid got to Level 3 on Space Invaders playing with wires going into his head. Another example is some type of dental implant that doctors can program to administer medication when and as necessary. (This is remarkably similar to a story in Walter Mosley's Futureland.) These dental implants are being tested right now in the European Union. How very interesting.

If you're going anywhere near Costa Rica in the next 35 years--be careful. It may have taken The Terminal Man three-and-a-half decades to come true, but when you start dealing with Jurassic Park, you're mixing chaos theory with thunder lizards, and that's trouble.

Triple Digits

So this is it: number 100. The link there is to a post written by one of the smartest people I've ever known.

A few years back, I spent my fall semester doing an independent study-type thing on the interplay of faith and reason. I came to the conclusion that all knowledge, at some point, comes to a question of faith. No matter what you believe, if you go back far enough or deep enough, there's something there that's irrational. Or in Roarkian tradition, "a-rational." So, in a sense, even science is founded on an a-rational belief system. Stealing Descartes's illustration, how do the scientists (or the preachers) know they aren't being tricked by some malicious demon? Can you really trust your senses? All this to say: nobody knows anything. As my profs say everyday near finals time: the right answer is only a very tiny part of it; it's all in how you get there.

And in more exciting news: the Cubs won today 1-0 on a good old-fashioned 3-hit shutout by Jason Marquis. I point this out for two reasons: (1) because, when was the last time you heard of any pitchter completing a game? and (2) because the only run scored was on Alfonso Soriano's leadoff homerun. He struck out in his other three at-bats. That's awesome.

In other news: I've been out of baseball for 13 years, but I still hate the Yankees. It's good to know that some things never change.

Back in the Alico

People start blogging because they want to be heard. We want to be entertaining and funny, but we also want to be controversial and serious. We reel you in with funny stories and try to pull you into the boat so you can hear our serious discourse. But I don't feel like posting the obligatory ruminative end-of-first-year post. I don't want to talk about long journeys we've taken, how I'm a smarter, bigger, more mature person than I was a year ago, how I now recognize that IRAC is the secret weapon that separates the lawyers from the laypeople. Instead, I want to make two comments.

First, Osler doesn't trust me with a flamethrower. That's not surprising. What is surprising, though, is that he put me on the non-trusting list . . . above Chicago. So I'm thinking: the list is obviously not in alphabetical order--could it be in order of untrustworthiness? Does Osler trust me with a flamethrower less than he trusts Chicago? Am I the only one who remembers the Great Chicago Fire? Sure, sure, blame it on the cows. Typical Chicago fashion.

Second, I am one step closer to my plan to own the Alico Building: I am clerking this summer for a law firm located on the twelfth floor of Waco's Sears Tower. Interestingly, each floor has only one bathroom, either a men's or a women's. It appears that men get the even-numbered floors and women get the odd-numbered floors. I assume that back in the day, people shared bathrooms more freely, but I don't know. Does anybody have any ideas why they would do it that way?

No. 98 . . . !

The Baptist church is full of strife right now, in large part because of what I think are dumb issues, like whether women can be ministers, whether Jesus is the focal point of all exegesis, and whether Disney should be boycotted. I'd post links, but I'm too lazy. Instead, I'll just point you to this post by an old professor of mine, one of the smartest people I've ever known. He's viewed as rather a heretic in many "traditional" and "conservative" circles, but I say open your mind. As Ravi Zacharias said, "The more I understand of what others have claimed and thought, the more beautiful Jesus Christ looks to me." So if nothing else, read this post to make your own religion more beautiful to you.

Mary Magdalene a Prostitute?

Beam Me Up

It's not very often that my two favorite fields of science have exciting news for me two days in a row. Today's news, however, is far more exciting: it seems that European scientists have discovered a new planet. Now, I know what you're thinking: they've already discovered over 200 other planets, not counting the 8 1/2 in our solar system. Yes, but--this is the closest thing to Earth they've ever found. Closer in the sense of similarity. They think this planet has a mean temperature of between 0° and 40°C (which roughly equates to 32°-104°F--sound familiar?). Oddly, tho, it orbits its sun in just 13 days. Anyway--scientists think it may have liquid water, and liquid water = life.

The other exciting thing about this is that, if true, it puts us at yet another crazy intersection of science and religion. I don't know if any of you remember, but when Darwin came out with his stuff, one of the hardest parts for religious types to swallow was the idea that humanity could be on the same level as the animals (which evolution claims). Uniquity among the animals was central to their "in the image of God" theology. We've gotten away from that, but a lot of überconservatives now hold high a new idea that I call "what are the chances?" theology. Basically, some people assert that life is so fickle and hard to sustain that it's almost impossible for life to exist. So close to impossible, in fact, that randomness could not have done it. Ergo, some higher being had to put it all together just right so that life could exist. I don't disagree with the conclusion, but I detest the analysis. What are the chances? Who cares? I think that life is determined to survive: that's what it does. If things had been only slightly different, then life would be slightly different.

If you're going to try to put God and science together, do it well. This new planet will force them to rethink (hopefully) this theory and figure out a much better reason to give God the credit.

That's all I have to say about that.

He ain't stupid; his brain don't work.

As I'm nearing two important milestones in my blog life (100th post and 3,000th visitor), I was trying desperately to come up with something to blog about. I hope you're not disappointed with this one. (By the way--this is number 96. And oddly, I have over 100 visits from somewhere in New York. I hope that nor'easter didn't get you down!)

I don't want to get into the whole nature/nurture thing. I have ideas, but I just plain don't know enough. But I thought this article on Newsweek.com was really interesting. I know most of you are too lazy to follow the link, so here's the basics: There's a part of our brain that helps us recognize mistakes and learn from them. Apparently, in certain people (those tending toward impulsivity and antisocial behavior, particularly), that part of the brain doesn't work quite as well. So basically, it's not that they're stupid or mean or spontaneous, it's that they (literally) can't learn from their own mistakes. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, my brain malfunctioned.

The physiology of the mind blows my mind. I know at least one of my loyal readers knows a thing or two about psych, so I'm interested in her comments, if any.

I've been there...

I used to moderate business meetings for my church. If only we'd had somebody like Alice:

Taking the TAKS and lovin it

The Waco Tribune-Herald has put a little 41-question test with supposedly actual TAKS questions. Take it and see if you could pass. I got a 39/41, or a 95. How'd you do?

Legal Beagle

Do you remember how in Planet of the Apes, the apes always talk about how evil and repulsive humans are because they kill each other and seek revenge? Well, my beagle, Molly, recently sought revenge for some ants that bit her in the mouth while she was eating, as evidenced by this picture:

You can't really tell what's going on, but this crater used to be a big ant pile. I think this is equivalent to shooting somebody 18 times.

Always a groomsman; now finally a groom

A good friend of mine, and the best man at my wedding, got married this past weekend. Charlie has been in, I think, at least 10 weddings and was finally part of his own. The ceremony was intimate and beautiful, the reception was fun, and the occasion joyous. This picture was taken during the bride-and-groomsmen picture session. As you can see, I am the only one not paying attention.

Congratulations, Charlie: I hope Sara will be as good a roommate as I was.

Pagans in State Government

I saw a really funny headline, at least if you grew up in the Bible Belt: "Perry Appoints Pagan to the Aerospace and Aviation Advisory Committee." Haha . . .

I also had a terrible conversation with my landlord yesterday. We're out of town for a friend's wedding, and I forgot to give our animals extra food. I called up my landlord to see if he could unlock the door for my in-laws so they could feed our animals. Unfortunately, he was unavailable. Then:

Me--"OK, so could Mrs. Roper* possibly unlock the door?"
Mr. Roper--"Mrs. Roper divorced me last summer."
Me--"Oh . . . uh . . . I'm sorry . . . I didn't know . . ."
Mr. Roper--"So are y'all going to renew your lease?"

Thankfully, I'm in law school and I've learned how to trample on people's feelings.




Ed. Note--Names have been changed. Extra points for anyone who can guess where this name came from.

Nobody's too sophisticated for Calvin & Hobbes

Now I'm sure that most of my readers don't even have to guess who this little kid is, but it has come to my attention that there is a significant lack of familiarity with Calvin and Hobbes at Baylor Law School. I'm not sure what English majors in Lubbock read, but apparently they grow up eating food like Calvin's mom made and don't even know it. In Division III, we wait until college to eat this stuff.

75 percent

One of my favorite lyrics of all time: "I'm so happy. How do you write about that?" Anybody know it? By the way, Justin Scott has my admiration and respect for guessing "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant" from my last post. Anonymous got it, too, but after Barrister Scott.

The other day, I was driving home as Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Tuesday's Gone" was gracing my radio. Afterward, the deejay commented that it was one of the few songs in that station's reportoire in 3/4 time. Since then, I've been thinking about it, and the only other song I could think of is the Animals' "House of the Rising Sun" (which may actually be in 6/8). Until this morning that is. I was belting out Billy Joel's "Piano Man" on the way to school this morning when Paul (the real estate novelist) told me it was in 3/4.

These are all three classic songs that have a special place in American culture and music history (at least "House" and "Piano Man"). Some psychologists and musicologists believe that there is a physiological basis behind why we like the music we do. I don't know about that, but I do know that most classic hymns (such as Amazing Grace) are in 3/4 and that most pop music is in 4/4. Could it be that the waltzy 3/4 rhythm catches our interest long after the 4/4 has faded into the background of life? Just wondering.

The King and the Queen Went Back to the Green

. . . but you can never go back there again." Billy Joel wrote that in what is currently my favorite song. If you can guess it, you'll win . . . my respect and admiration.



Just wanted to stick in a fun cartoon on a Monday morning.

So Professional

Which is more binding: the Hippocratic Oath or the Pledge of Allegiance?

Let me tell you about Marshall Goldberg's The Karamanov Equations. Surprisingly deep, the central conflict in the story is protaganist-surgeon Nick Sten's struggle between the Hippocratic Oath and the Pledge of Allegiance, even though you probably already know how that will turn out. The story takes place in the early 1970s, switching between Moscow (presumably), Wisconsin, and Paris. The Russians are about six months away from developing an impenetrable shield against any kind of guided missile (rendering all arms reduction negotiations pointless), but they've put all their eggs in one basket: Nikolai Pavlevitch Karamanov. The Central Committee freaks out when they learn that Karamanov has a clot in his carotid arteries--yes, both. To make matters worse, the clot is located just high enough on the neck that conventional clot removal would only kill him.

Enter Nick Sten. Dr. Sten has developed gas endarterectomy, which basically functions like a power wash. It can reach clots in arteries that no other method can, but the record is something like 8 survivors of 20 procedures. The Russians, desperate for their defense system, give Dr. Sten a call and ask him, through a ruse, to save Karamanov. The CIA catches wind of it and reminds him of his patriotic duty: to kill Karamanov on the operating table. Adding to the emotional mix is the fact that Sten's wife thinks he's leaving her for an old Parisian love from the Korean War.

As a political science major, I am always wary when novels enter the fray of politics, but this story was plausible. Goldberg reinforces the humanity of all sides (except, hehe, the French) and didn't get too carried away with the not-too-subtle message that doctors are more humane than Cold War government agents. The relationships between the various actors worked out decently and relatively unpredictably. The book closed well, with most of the important strings tied up.

In sum--I recommend it as reading to give you pause.