Tales from the Land of Tortia

on why not to be naked and wet with your co-workers

2010-07-17T15:59:00.000-07:00

Morning workouts, or "PT" as we in the biz call it, is ripe with potential for both embarrassment and bemusement. Thankfully, after nearly a year of being active duty, bemusement is more common than embarrassment.

There are just so many bizarre things that take place in the locker room and/or fitness area, due in part to the fact that retirees, civilian employees, and people from other branches are also allowed to use our facility. Yesterday I was there and a middle-aged Marine was shout-grunting every time he pulled down on the overhead bar, and it was everything I could do not to laugh. I mean, even assuming shout-grunts do give you extra power, it seems like you'd at least try to tone them down when no one else around you is implementing the shout-grunt method. Then there's the the guy, whom I actually haven't seen in a month or so, who is in the locker room daily, shaving his body hair and oiling his body when I begin my workout, and still in the locker room shaving his body hair and oiling his body after I finish my workout, shower, and leave. Given his creative body piercings, I assume he is a civilian.

Friday, I had showered in the giant shower room and was standing next to the towel rack, retrieving my towel, when I felt a spray of water drops across my back and left arm as someone approached me from behind while using his hand to forcefully swipe water off his body. My initial reaction was of the WTF variety -- What in the he- oh. Why hello sir who significantly outranks me. Thank you. I was just thinking how wonderful that shower was, and how much I wanted another. An encore, if you will. Dessert to the fine entree that was the shower I just finished five seconds ago. And you, with your powers of perception, granted me my wish. I thank you.

california :: america as america :: the world

2010-03-29T21:05:00.000-07:00

For good and for bad.

ooh, uh...

2010-03-13T01:27:00.000-08:00

There are some things that, if you knew as a child that you'd be doing them as an adult, would have caused you to purposefully O.D. on Flintstones vitamins. Never in his wildest dreams would this boy who competed in poetry recital competitions as a fifth grader and cried at Harry and the Hendersons as a third grader have ever thought that he'd be spending two months fully integrated with the Marines. WTF.

Thing is, I'm loving it. It's like living in a movie. These people (either gender) swear with such gusto and creativity and in such inappropriate circumstances that you can't help but smile. And who wouldn't like having their brief-writing interrupted by the rattling of your office window as helicopters fly low overhead?

I'm still the dork trying to figure out the best response to a manly "ooh-rah" (and a good day to you, fine sir?), but at least I'm having a good time while I'm doing it.

procreation missionaries

2010-01-24T11:24:00.000-08:00

My lovely wife and I go back and forth pretty frequently on whether we're going to have children, and one little consideration I recently learned of is the fact that if we were to get our preferred location for my next base assignment and she were to be pregnant while over there, the place is so remote that she would have to "stork nest" in Germany during the last trimester and give birth over there. Wowsers.

But that's a sidenote, really, from the main point of this post: parents aren't the best advocates for parenting. We were out with several couples last night, one of which has a newborn. The husband's opinion on the matter? "I'm told this will be awesome in 40 years." Each time we're told by an exasperated parent "don't rush into having kids" (hardly an issue after six and a half years of marriage), I wonder if that's the parent's nice way of saying "run for your life."

forceful music

2009-11-11T20:40:00.000-08:00

Just a quick post to share a picture I took several months ago while in lovely, lovely Victoria and promptly forgot about. Sorry for the awkwardly placed pole -- I tried to take the picture quickly from afar before he noticed. He seems to be staring me down, though, so I don't think I was successful.

title rescinded on account of having crossed the line

2009-11-04T16:13:00.000-08:00

I have three posts-in-the-making at various places on my computer, each the product of reflection and (some) wit, but apparently this is what I need to actually prompt me to hit the "publish post" button.

So the question is, which is most disturbing?
a) That I continued to read the article after having read the headline
b) That I found it humorous that the suspect, in stereotypical man fashion, apparently rolled over and went straight to sleep after his first liaison
c) That the phrase "gonna get me some Sugar" popped into my mind immediately after seeing the horse's name
d) That I felt a little bad for the guy upon reading about how he's been ridiculed for his exploits.

I'll blame my apparently twisted outlook on reading way too many bizarre and disturbing criminal law cases.

mission accomplished

2009-09-12T09:06:00.000-07:00

First Lieutenant T.M., reporting as ordered. I've made it out of Commissioned Officer Training relatively unscathed, have arrived at my home base, and am preparing to set off again for ten more weeks in that little slice of heaven I like to call Alabama. I guess the good thing about being in 'Bama so long is that by the time I free myself from that lovely state I'll almost be a captain. You can get a head start and begin calling me Capt T.M. now, if you'd prefer.

There's so much to say about the last month and a half, I don't know where to begin. Since we last talked, I've eaten alligator tail, rappelled down a wall, and gone up against fighter pilots in a popular Air Force game that is best described as full-contact billiards. I have also worked a seemingly endless string of 19-hour days, marched in torrential rains (anyone see CNN last month?), and biffed it while sprinting toward the finish line at the end of a 1.5 mile cardio test. So it's been a mixed bag. All in all it wasn't as bad as expected, or was at least bad in different ways, and I graduated before they could kick me out.

And that's it, really. Just a posting to let you know that I'm still alive and that I hope to post more regularly now that I'm -- oh, who am I kidding. See you in a month.

on pirating music

2009-07-19T21:27:00.000-07:00

When I was in grade school, there was this girl in my class whose last name was “Hickey”. I thought she was cute and secretly liked her, but no one else did and so people made fun of her and I remained neutral, the Switzerland of second grade. One day, in the midst of particularly merciless teasing, she blurted out that she was moving away soon and so we all ought to be nice or else we’d be sorry when she was gone. This, of course, made my classmates shout out how happy they were that she was leaving. I never did stick up for her, let alone tell her that I sort of liked her. I do think I saw her with her family later on Family Feud, however, and that somehow felt to me like a little bit of revenge for her.

That leads me (via the weakest link possible) to the oddity of “normal” people, or at least people who aren’t actors, being on television. I think that reality tv shows are our modern gladiator tournaments. We take “normal” people, put them in bizarre contrived situations, and let the strong among them devour the weak for our amusement. The special twist comes in celebrity reality shows, where producers seem to select only the weak among the celebrities, the old and crippled among the herd . Then we pit them, the weak and the weaker, against each other. Still, sometimes, a Maximus emerges (I’m looking at you, Flavor Flav), and uses it all to his or her advantage.

All this to say I propose a new celebrity survival show, to include some real classy folks, like Rod Blagojevich and others, but also to include the Somali pirate who was taken into custody several months ago. I, somewhere in my heart, feel bad for the guy (was I born to be a defense attorney?), and I think he could be the next Maximus. Let the guy go, and if he comes out on top, which I imagine he would, consider his time served. With any luck, he can spin it into an entire career. He can take up rapping, since nothing says street cred like being a former Somali pirate captured off the Horn of Africa. Maybe start a clothing line, to include massive pirate-themed bling. His belt can be held up by a diamond-encrusted skull-and-crossbones “Swashbuckle” that he flashes in his music videos, much like T.I. twirling his hanky or Nelly and his (now defunct) adhesive bandage. So let’s give the guy a break, or at least a chance. Plus, if we do, I sense we’ll have minutes of entertainment to come.

and behind door number 3...

2009-07-19T21:03:00.000-07:00

Most of those who have spent very much time with me know that decisions aren’t my strong suit. Or, more accurately, speedy decisions aren’t my strong suit. I first realized this when I was taking a personality profile for one of my high school classes. I was working on it at home and couldn’t figure out how to answer one of the questions. I went to my mom to see which answer she thought best reflected my personality and, just while talking with her, I changed my mind several times as to what the correct answer--a simple yes or no--was. The question: Do you have a hard time making decisions?

Part of the reason, I think, is some bizarre inner drive for accuracy. Thus, when given surveys that ask questions and require me to circle a number, one through five, in response, I not infrequently end up circling the blank space between two numbers because, darn it, the answer is 3.5, not three and not four, and I can’t just choose a whole number to circle because what if the answer to the next question really is three? Then that throws the whole system off, since I now have a true three and a pseudo three, with no means of differentiating between the two. This of course can wreak havoc on my judicial opinion turnaround time if I let it because, sweet mercy, if I take this long to answer a question as to how satisfied I was with the service at Taco Bell, how much longer am I going to want to take when helping determine whether someone was unjustly imprisoned?

Point is, I can take a long time to make decisions. Which is why I submitted two assignment preference lists to the JAG, one pre-housing meltdown and one post-housing meltdown, with the post-meltdown list reflecting the altered odds of us purchasing a home at our assignment location. It is also why my wife and I, once we knew she would be on a boat commercial fishing in Alaska at the time I would receive our assignment options, went over the different scenarios prior to her departure so I would know, when give our two options from the Air Force (presumably taken from our previously-made list, which assignment to choose.

Monday, the call came. A nice guy, a major with a southern accent, introduced himself and explained the assignment selection process. Then he said, While we were able to give you your top regional choices, we didn’t have availabilities at any of the bases you listed. Instead, it’s “A” or “B”. Let me know within 48 hours if either of these choices works for you. The 48 hours was expected (actually, 24, so I was practically swimming in time with 48), but I had thought that out of 20+ options, one of our options might have also been one of theirs. It wasn’t.

In the end, we chose an option that, though we hadn’t thought of it before, ended up being quite good (we hope). It was … “A”. We expect you to visit.

jag rawr

2009-07-06T18:06:00.000-07:00

JAG, six months ago: We'll let you know in June

JAG, two months ago: We'll let you know in late June

JAG, two weeks ago: We'll let you know next week (i.e., either very late June or very early July)

Me, today: Come. On.

Hurry up and wait, I believe is the saying? Here's to hoping tomorrow's the day I find out where we're moving. In the meantime, I've been preparing for commissioned officer training, which I assume goes something like this:

The Colbert Report

Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c

Stephen Strong: Army of Me - Basic Training

www.colbertnation.com

Colbert Report Full Episodes

Political Humor

Jeff Goldblum

and take yo pictcha

2009-06-08T21:16:00.000-07:00

Wedding dialogue of the year, or at least of the month:

Friend of the groom, to bride and groom as they sit in their getaway limo shortly before embarking on the honeymoon: "Take pictures!"

Surrounding crowd: "Hahaha."

Friend of groom: "Not of that."

Surrounding crowd: "Hahaha."

Friend of groom: "Shame on you all."

I guess weddings give you sex on the brain, even for the old folks.

a quiz (with pictures, er, links!)

2009-05-27T19:59:00.000-07:00

So by our calculations, it's about one month until we find out where we'll be posted. Eee.

We gave the Air Force around 25 options, pretty much all of which we'd be quite happy with. Of course, some would make us happier than others. Like the base in northern Italy: Under two hours to Venice? Check. Under half an hour to skiing in the Alps? Check. One-and-a-half hours to Slovenia and under two-and-a-half to Croatia? Check and check. But even if we don't get Italy (which is practically guaranteed to be the case), there's still Turkey, England, and Hawaii.

Oh, and Fairbanks, Little Rock, Wichita, and Biloxi, all somewhat more likely when considering the fact that getting an international posting at all is somewhat unlikely. So here's the quiz:

Where will we be sent?

A) Cambridge, England
B) Tokyo, Japan
C) Guam, uh, Guam
D) Mediterranean Coast, Turkey (or at least super close by)
E) Minot, North Dakota

No whammies, no whammies...

a moving post

2009-05-13T19:58:00.000-07:00

Two months. Huh.

My family moved several times when I was in junior high and high school and one thing I remember about the experience is that it would generally take me until about Christmas (assuming it was a summer move) before I would feel comfortable talking freely with my new acquaintances. Until that point I would spend large chunks of my small group conversation time analyzing what I was going to say and by the time I deemed something worth saying the conversation had moved beyond anything that was going to come out my mouth. Though I mostly got over that long ago, the habit seems to pop up on this blog from time to time. So I will blame my lack of posting on that. And on being lazy.

Of interest likely to just a very few, my wife and I recently moved into a house. It's like being transported to the 50s, as I imagine them to have been. Upon driving into our driveway we passed a bunch of children drawing giant chalk figures across the entire length of the cul-de-sac (yes, I was tempted to draw my own versions at night while the neighborhood slept), and before I had even finished backing the U-Haul into the driveway, one neighbor came over with his kids and offered to help us move in. We declined the offer but thanked him, and he responded by telling us he was going to the park with his kids but that we could talk to his wife if we needed help in the meantime ("mean as a rattler" but still somehow liked, he said). Several times since moving in we have heard the ice cream truck go by (I wondered how many pedophiles have tried to find one of those things on ebay), and the other day we came home to find a 8 1/2 by 11 piece of paper folded into our screen door, with a child's drawing and a mostly-legible "Welcome" scrawled onto it. It's a suburban utopia.

But. There is a mysterious chocolate lab who, while mostly cute, is made somewhat less so by his massive man marbles and the fact that he has left several incredibly large gifts on our lawn that, as they are watered by the sprinklers, only become more disgusting. I realize many, if not most, would clean the deposits up right away, but I'm too disgusted right now. Maybe this weekend.

Two months of delay and over-analysis, and I give you a story about dog s--t. Sorry.

More to come, hopefully, including a brilliant comparison of California and America as each relates to and is perceived by its neighbors. Also, a plea for the captured Somali pirate to be invited onto a celebrity survival show.

justice blue eyes

2009-03-11T21:46:00.001-07:00

I tried to think of a way to cleverly bring this up but I've been unsuccessful thus far and I need to go to bed now so I'll just throw it out there plain and simple -- I'll be hanging with Chief Justice John Roberts tomorrow evening. Just the two of us, him piercing my soul with his eyes.

Actually, I'm anticipating a throng of people with my wife and I lost somewhere in the back of the room, me wondering why I bothered to dress up in a full suit during non-office hours just to eat bad appetizers while standing next to some angry lawyer. (Who isn't my wife. Though my wife is also next to me. She's just not the angry lawyer. I have no connection to this hypothetical angry lawyer. There are a total of three people standing there. Well, plus the rest of the room. Agh, ambiguous verbage.) If, however, the event turns out to be anything more than that I will be quite pleased.

And yes, I am taking suggestions on awkward things to say should I actually meet him.

massive stimulus package

2009-02-28T22:46:00.001-08:00

Point of interest: I was recently told that a former Little League teammate of mine is now a softcore pornstar making movies for Playboy and traveling around with them as part of a live softcore show. Oh, and his last name in real life is Cox. Clearly his life path was determined before he ever had a chance to do anything about it.

cruisers of the caribbean

2009-02-27T19:20:00.000-08:00

As it turns out, I owe you a blog post. I was intending to post a few pictures of our cruise, but the pictures are very large and take more time to upload than I'm willing to give. Suffice it to say, the beaches were white, the seas were blue, and the sunsets were orange. Highlights included all the free food we could stuff down our throats, and not vomiting after stuffing all that food down our throats

Other highlights included sitting in inner tubes as we floated down a Belizean river that flowed through old Mayan caves, sailing within sight of the Cuban coast, and buying a sweet skull Christmas ornament at a shop in Mexico. I'm very excited about hanging a blue painted skull from our tree this holiday season.

I will also note that the cruise was full of New Yorkers and, my goodness, they loudly confirmed almost every stereotype you've ever heard. They seemed a little like very rich dessert -- all well and good in small portions, but a bit overwhelming if you get too much.

More to come, more to come.

duuuuude

2009-01-31T18:36:00.000-08:00

Background: My great-grandfather owned a farm in Michigan, which had been passed down the family to him and onto my grandmother and her brother before they had to sell it to a steel corporation (hoorah for the steamroller of progress!). At the time my great-grandfather still owned it, he donated some of the land to the adjacent high school for use as their football field, which they subsequently named after him. That being the case, I recently searched for the high school to see if I could find pictures of the field.

The odd thing is this: The school's address, I kid you not, is 420 High Street. Are you friggin' kidding me? And while I'm at it, I'll throw out there that the town is Potterville. Not so funny on its own, but when you add it to the address, well huh.

last weekend

2009-01-08T21:00:00.000-08:00

I've heard the night ice of a frozen lake buckle and contort under its own force, and it sounds like distant caribou.

Here's to things simultaneously added to and checked off from one's list of things to be done.

uh, hey, remember me?

2009-01-03T15:24:00.000-08:00

So it's been a while.

I'll be honest, it's because our neighbor's inter--uh, our internet has been extremely sketchy lately, and my better judgment recommends I don't post to my blog at work. Point is, yeah it's been awhile and yeah it might be awhile again. In the mean time, I recommend those who don't mind naughty words but who do mind cuddly animals go ahead and click here. I laughed my arse off, albeit with a slightly guilty feeling.

My goodness this is a pitifully short post. My apologies.

Love, T.M.

memoir release date tba

2008-12-01T22:30:00.001-08:00

Go to images.google.com. Search for "ugly pug". Click on the first picture.

You can tell your friends you know a famous photographer, if you'd like.

things i've done of late

2008-11-17T21:44:00.000-08:00

At one point in her college career my wife had a professor who was odd in a variety of ways. He was the kind of guy who would, and did, ask students who they were and then, upon receiving a response giving their name, major, political affiliation, or whatever, respond by saying, "no, who are you." Good sir, I believe you confuse ambiguity for profundity.

I guess I write that because I'm about to list things I've done in the last week or so and I can hear his voice in the back of my mind, saying, "I'm not asking what you've done, I'm asking who you are."  Well darn it, man, sometimes they're one and the same.  Or at least closely related.

*****

Bought adult furniture.

I snicker a little as I type that, which I suppose means I'm not yet fully an adult.  I should have perhaps said I bought the kind of furniture that adults would buy, but that seemed too cumbersome.  We bought it at Pier 1 but picked it up in my Dad's baby blue 1970's Datsun pickup, which temporarily broke down in the parking lot.  I figure the two cancel each other out in some fashion.

Forced my wife to listen to country music.

This was in the Datsun pickup.  Because what else are you going to listen to in a pickup that has a mountain scene plastered onto the rear window?  It's been years since I've listened to country music for longer than 15 minutes, so I imagine my wife was very impressed when I was able to point out that Randy Travis was on.  I could see the awe in her eyes.

Unsuccessfully started a letter to J.D. Salinger.

I don't have very many memories of my mom's dad, whom I became conscious of for the first time when watching the 1989 World Series on tv.  That's when the San Francisco earthquake struck and my mom called her revelation/dad, who lived in the bay area, to see if he was OK.  He was a good writer, a poor father, and a Salinger fan.  I haven't been able to figure my grandfather out through reading Salinger, so I thought I'd try writing Salinger.  I don't think this will work, but the process is a good one.

Ran.

I've been running four or so times a week in order to get my fat arse in shape before commissioned officer training.  I know some of you enjoy running, but I really just don't get it.  It sucks so bad.  Tips on why this is fun would be welcome.  I have noticed a definite difference in my endurance, however, which I guess is the point.

who it out my what?

2008-11-09T17:56:00.000-08:00

You may remember my earlier post wherein I mentioned a choice phrase or two I was tongue-in-cheekily hoping to work into future court of appeals opinions. Well, I would like to simultaneously add a phrase and check it off the list: "Blow it out your ass."

Oh yes, you read that right. Here's to hoping the case gets cited in later opinions.

on halloween and such

2008-11-01T16:09:00.000-07:00

Not a single kiddie stopped by last night.

Apparently they don't think the loot's going to be so good in the apartment complexes and instead go to mooch off the richies. Kommie Kids.* And I was so excited to frighten the parents with my John Mark Karr costume.

*****

And now a question. Obama recently received an endorsement from a former Reagan chief of staff, in addition to earlier endorsements by Colin Powell, Scott McClellan, and other lesser known conservatives. He has also received support from Bill Ayers and Michael Moore,** two people who, well, come from a different end of the spectrum. Why?

I read an article in Time talking about Obama's ability to effectively articulate both sides of an argument, which I can certainly believe after having watched his race speech. The article quoted a law school professor of Obama's who referred to a time in class where Obama articulated both sides of an argument so well that everyone in the class left thinking Obama supported their own view. Does that have anything to do with it? Or are people simply so tired of the present state of things that they are willing to give up some things in order to have a president with other qualities and beliefs that they believe are more important? Or has Obama been broad enough in public speeches/interviews/debates that people don't think they're really compromising that much at all? Smart people on both sides are endorsing him, so I find that third answer a little hard to believe. What do ya think?

* Yes, that would be a good clothing line for hipster children, and no, you can't take the idea.

** I'm not implying Michael Moore has ever engaged in domestic terrorism--I'm just saying he and Bill Ayers are much closer on the political spectrum than the others I listed. I'm also not necessarily saying Bill Ayers's bombings constituted terrorism, since I think the word terrorism is used much too loosely by both sides and should only be applied to attacks primarily targeting civilians and having the intent to affect governmental policies through pressure from a "terrorized" populace. I don't know enough about Ayers' actions, so I'm not going to say whether his bombings were technically terrorism. Any way, you shouldn't be reading this footnote--the point of the post is in the main body above. Go. Leave!

happy birthday

2008-10-16T21:10:00.000-07:00

I haven't forgotten about you.

It's just that all my post ideas have to do with either work or politics, neither of which I am allowed to discuss publicly.* So I will instead tell you that I saw a beaver swimming in the pond in front of our living room window this morning and even though he was trying desperately to get to shore, the ducks and geese kept chasing the little guy away. I hope he didn't drown. Then on the way home from work I avoided a squirrel who looked like he was sleeping on his side, except he had red coming from his little squirrel mouth. It was a sad rodent day.

And on that melancholy note, I wish you a happy 100th post. Considering it's been over two and a half years since I started this thing you'd think I would have more posts on here, but this old mind works too slow. Or I'm lazy. Whatever.

*I admit that at first blush I may seem to have violated this rule in my last post. Please note, however, that I expressed no political opinion. So I'm good to go.

A political paralysis observed

2008-09-17T21:22:00.000-07:00

Observation: I have not yet decided whom I will vote for, a fact that has elicited both shock and rage from friends on both sides of the political spectrum.

I guess the redeeming point, really, is that my state is mercifully colorfast when it comes to the national electoral map. There is some comfort in knowing your vote doesn't matter -- the warm cocoon of predestination. I, apparently, am a political Calvinist.

hello, dalai

2008-08-27T16:55:00.000-07:00

Oh, Mr. Lama. You seemed as though you had it all together. So grounded, so wise. But now I hear news of your "exhaustion," and I'm simply crushed.

Exhaustion? Well, we all know what that means.

the b-word

2008-08-16T00:07:00.000-07:00

I was going to write a big post about the bar, but it's late and I want to go to bed and I think if I don't post now I may never.

So this is it: I hand wrote the entire exam, in an extremely large room filled with people whom I presume also did not realize they needed to download the typing software several weeks before the exam took place. When the proctor announced during a break that the typers in the conference facility across the street were having technical difficulties, the entire typing room spontaneously burst into cheers and applause. When my brother-in-law asked me what year in law school they teach you how to be a bastard, I thought he was joking. Perhaps not.

janet reno's dance party

2008-07-22T13:07:00.000-07:00

I don’t know all that much about the world of Indie music, but there are a few things I’ve managed to pick up. In a way, really, it’s not unlike a board game. Fans get points for loving bands that no one else has heard of. Bands get points for referencing small unknown diners in the Midwest. “Multiplier” cards are also available, where one’s points are multiplied and then either added to or subtracted from one’s overall score.

For instance, having first heard an obscure band at a hole-in-the-wall club in a city over 700 miles away from your current location takes whatever points you earn from knowing of the band and doubles or sometimes triples them. You also get points for being able to complain that one of your formally favorite bands has sold out (it’s best to remain vague as to what the band has sold out to – something large and corporate is generally assumed).

The “sold out” card is valuable, since if played at a time when someone has just stated that they like said band, that second person’s points are actually reduced, not back to the number that they would have had had they not made the comment, but actually below their pre-liking level, such that they would have been better off had they never mentioned the band at all. Thus, in one Indie play and counter-play, a lot can happen – Person A can gain points by saying he likes an obscure band, Person B can gain points by saying he liked them when he first heard them play in some out of the way club far away, then gain more points by saying he no longer likes the band because they have sold out. Person A then loses whatever points were gained by mentioning the band, and has his point total further reduced on account of still liking a band that has sold out. Thus, in an Indie play initiated by Person A, Person B can actually come out far ahead.

All that for this: how are points distributed when an Indie musician contributes a song to an album produced by a former attorney general? I see your first question is a perceptive one – which attorney general? For Alberto Gonzales, the answer is of course easy – all Indie points lost, game privileges revoked. But what about Janet Reno? As it turns out, Janet Reno has produced an album, a sort of musical history of the United States; it starts with a Lakota dream song and ends with a country-western written about September 11. I first heard of the album a while ago (while checking out a small club just outside the Omaha city limits), but only now got around to actually downloading one of its songs, a World War I classic sung (and whistled) by Andrew Bird. And it’s good. I don’t know whether my Indie points are added, subtracted, multiplied, or divided by listening to a song produced by Janet Reno, but something that feels this good can’t be all that bad.

anyone know what time it is?

2008-07-19T17:01:00.000-07:00

My judge and I had set up a time for me to have coffee with her and the rest of the Court of Appeals earlier this week and all leading up to the appointment, random ways to screw up kept popping into my head. Ways that really didn't even make sense. Like once, where I envisioned myself offering to burn a copy of a song on the radio for one of the judges whom I had previously met. WTF? Like I'm going to offer to make a mix tape for a judge on the Court of Appeals. Maybe if we were in high school and I had a crush on him, but, well, no. Honestly, my mind can go the strangest places when I leave it unattended for even just a few minutes.

Point is, somewhere in my subconscious I must have been expecting to screw this up somehow. Which is likely why I panicked when deciding how to cross the street. A simple task, you might think, but not when contemplating jaywalking in front of a judge.

Needing to put more money in the meter for my car that sat parked across the street, I soon found myself in a dilemma. Does one needing to cross the street to get to his car a) Jaywalk in front of a judge on the Court of Appeals who also happens to be his boss, thus getting to his car as quickly as possible but also flagrantly violating a law, be it ever so small; b) Walk all the way down to the crosswalk, cross the street legally, then walk all the way back along the opposite side of the street, thus showing respect for the law but disrespect for his boss's time, or; c) Walk across the street while looking at his watch, pretending to be too distracted to actually notice whether there is a cross walk in front of him.

I think we all know which one I chose. In perfect honesty, my looking at my watch as I crossed wasn't consciously done to feign distraction, but it is certainly possible that my subconscious was operating independently of my conscious. Hoping she hadn't noticed, I came back to a conversation between my judge and her career clerk ... discussing jaywalking. And discussing how one of the former judges on the Court of Appeals used to get so worried over what to do when crossing the street that he would just look at his watch and feign distraction. Apparently I have a future on the Court of Appeals. Or at least my subconscious does.

well i don't like that one bit

2008-06-28T18:42:00.000-07:00

Apparently I'm pretty...darn...white.

But even though many of the things apply to me in a subject heading sort of way, they don't apply to me in a main body sort of way. Maybe I'm just a whitey in denial. Or maybe I'm 25% Hawaiian.

At any rate, enjoy the site. And my apologies in advance to anyone whom it may offend.

(b)log from the sea of cortez

2008-06-24T12:57:00.000-07:00

Question: What is the best course of action for one who is stressed out about the upcoming bar exam?

Answer Choices:
A) Follow the regimented schedule given to you by Bar/Bri, making sure to review any missed answers and learn from those mistakes
B) Set aside half an hour each day to engage in cardiovascular exercise
C) Make a list of weak spots and emphasize those in your studying
D) Forget it all and go to Cabo for a week with your family

Darn straight I chose D. Highlights included 1) deciding I should have been a PGA golfer upon seeing Greg Norman's giant yacht floating in the bay, and 2) eating tacos at Gordo Lele's, a stand run by a gordo man whose name I assume was Lele. If you're ever in Cabo, ask him to do Frank Sinatra karaoke for you with ukulele self-accompaniment.

I'd write more, but I have a lot of studying to do.

wtf

2008-06-10T14:10:00.000-07:00

Snow? Really? Come on, it's the middle of June.

First day of spring was amusing. Last day of classes was bemusing. This is just plain stupid. The gods of weather are apparently like that kid in grade school who figured that if a practical joke was funny the first time, it's got to be hilarious the 50th time.

fun(?) with bar/bri

2008-06-02T20:25:00.000-07:00

Bar review professor quote of the day: "Bestiality is gross. Therefore, it will never be on the bar exam. I would love to write the bar question for bestiality, and have stayed up at night doing so, but it will never make it to the exam."

Bar review professor runner-up quote of the day: "If you even toyed with chosing that answer, you will fail the bar. If you chose that answer, you will fail life. (pause). You will never own your own home."

but not the kind that files papers

2008-05-19T12:13:00.000-07:00

Just got word from the Air Force that they granted my deferment request, which means I'm clerking for one of the judges on the state court of appeals, which means I'll be sticking around in-state for another year.

But here's one of the cooler parts: it also means I should end up writing some of the court's decisions, which is cool to someone who has spent the last three years being nerdified in law school. I wonder how good the odds are that I can sneak a cuz I said so, beeyotch into of one of the opinions.

the end has (almost) ended

2008-05-12T21:38:00.000-07:00

Doctor of love, of course. But doctor of jurisprudence? Surely someone is mistaken.

Now, of course, the bar awaits. A JAG friend of mine is soon to endure the birth of her second child and recently told me that she would gladly take her impending suffering over mine. I hope she's kidding. The last three years were a blur, so I'm just hoping that somehow translates well into essay answers.

growl

2008-05-02T11:43:00.000-07:00

Just looked in the mirror and thought, my goodness, I look like a werewolf. It's been 26 hours since I've slept and over a week since I've shaved. You'd think after three years of law school I'd have a better sense of how much time goes into preparing outlines.

One more test to go. Ever.

in your face(book)

2008-04-19T11:32:00.000-07:00

So what do pedophiles and high schoolers have in common? Why, obsession with social networking sites, of course. And now you can throw me in the mix as well. Well, don't count me as obsessed (yet), but do count me as a member, if you must.

A certain part of me feels defeated, seeing as how I resisted for a good long while. However, that part of me seems to have succumbed to the part that hopes someone has left a new message on my wall.

April 19, 2008
Deaths
T.M.'s dignity. Having held out against Harry Potter, celebrity cooking shows, and dog sweaters, the dignity of T.M. finally succumbed to fate. It leaves behind one wife, one pug, and the withered shell of a law student. The family asks that in lieu of flowers, friend requests be placed in his inbox.

P.S. My apologies to the HP fans out there, for I know you are legion. Please don't cast a spell on me.

bipolar weather

2008-04-14T14:42:00.000-07:00

Saturday I was at the park, reading and getting a sunburn. Yesterday I was outside at nine in the evening, comfortable in shorts and a t-shirt. In a few minutes I will walk through snow flurries in order to get to my car.

Someone please stop this ride -- I think I'm going to be sick.

can i get an extra shot with that?

2008-04-07T11:02:00.000-07:00

So the wife and I were watching CNN last night when her former employee flashes across the screen, accompanied by ominous video editing, staring into the camera and saying, "I wanted to get as much revenge as I could."

Turns out CNN is running a special this Friday on campus killers (and those who would imitate them, apparently), and your local bullet-obsessed barista is a feature presentation. Popcorn and fear at our place, Friday evening!

things that make you feel old

2008-03-29T15:06:00.000-07:00

1) Your wife's co-workers being both shocked and awed that she knows how to text message
2) Turning on the radio and stumbling across a station in the middle of their daily "90s hour". I'm pretty sure they meant "80s hour" because, as I remember it, that's the music for old people clinging to their youth, not 90s music.
3) Finding out that a classmate has gone these last three years of law school believing you are in fact in your thirties, not your twenties, someone having told her such during our 1L year. Thanks, thanks a lot.

When I was younger I figured that by this point I'd have more body hair and bigger muscles. I guess I'm sort of glad the body hair thing didn't pan out, but where are those big hulking muscles?

*Sigh*

hi arnie, I'm dinesh

2008-03-29T14:41:00.000-07:00

Someone somewhere has gotten my cell phone number and sold it to telemarketers, because I now get phone calls pretty frequently, asking if I want to try out some random product in exchange for Wal-Mart gift certificates. I always know what's about to happen when my phone shows a number I don't recognize and there's a pause after I answer. Each time it's someone in India with a name like Mike or Jerry. The most recent person's name was Nixon. If I were choosing an American pseudonym I think I'd go for something other than Nixon, but whatever works, I guess. It's like in high school Spanish class, where you got to choose your Spanish nickname. I think I was Felipe.

Point is, these callers are apparently getting paid alternately by either the phone calls made or the sales bagged, but never by the hour. Whenever I tell them I'm not interested, one of two things happens. Either I have to spend the next five minutes convincing them that I actually am sure and that no, an extra $10 in gift certificates won't get me to change my mind, or I don't even get to the "thanks" in "no, thanks" before the person hangs up. When Nixon called, all he did was say his name and ask how I was, to which I replied that I was fine and asked if the call was regarding Wal-Mart gift certificates before he hung up. Didn't even answer my question. What if I had been waiting by my phone for the past month, neglecting family and friends, hoping a Wal-Mart gift certificate would come my way? He didn't know if that was my situation, and he certainly wasn't waiting around to find out.

I guess my point is this: Indian call center managers, please start paying your employees by the hour. I'm getting a little irritated over here.

...and taking names

2008-03-16T22:35:00.000-07:00

15. Not bad, but my bloody moral compass keeps holding me back. And here I had hoped law school would take care of that.

thanks, buddy

2008-03-13T23:19:00.000-07:00

So there was this male customer at the wife's old coffee shop (yes, she's at a different one now, covering for a manager on maternity leave - keep up, people) who repeatedly tried to convince her that I was going to leave her after graduating, since that's what lawyers do. Then when she mentioned to him that I am joining the Air Force JAG he came in the next day with divorce rate stats for the Air Force. Really, man? Who does that?

But you can be confident, dear reader, that the wife and I will not divorce anytime soon. No, I've assured her and I assure you too that I will wait until we live in a state with more husband-friendly divorce laws.*

*I feel bad even writing that last sentence. Sorry, hun. How do you feel about going out for dinner tonight? I know, I know - I've already made my bed on the couch.

message from blogger #9

2008-03-13T17:29:00.000-07:00

Went to Seattle last weekend for the trial team regional competition, and we won again! At least I now have several hours of free time each week until finals.

back off, it's just a cold!

2008-03-03T14:55:00.000-08:00

Darn straight. Not saying this type of thing happens often, just saying I shouldn't get harassed for hesitating to be an organ donor.

and the donut eaters of this nation shall rise up, united in pursuit of a more prosperous waistline

2008-02-12T14:10:00.000-08:00

How could you not vote for a man who looks inspirational even while delivering donuts? I glanced at the picture below and thought he was giving a speech while staring into our destiny. Turns out he was giving donuts and coffee while staring at a reporter across the street. But you know, still...

Disclaimer: Any endorsements, express or implied, apply only to candidates for the Democratic nomination. The author has not yet determined his endorsement for the general election.

merry super tuesday

2008-02-05T13:31:00.000-08:00

Well now it's clear, as if there was ever a question. Anyone But Hillary In '08.

politically (co)wrecked

2008-01-31T15:56:00.000-08:00

Two things of note. Well, actually three, but I'll only briefly mention the fact that I have now added a somewhat humorous profile picture, so it doesn't really count. I do encourage you to check it out, though.

The first thing of substance has to do with polar bears on melting ice floes. Dear polar bears: You're welcome here in our little hamlet. It's been fricking freezing lately. Granted it has warmed up in the past couple days, but it was still cold enough last night and today to dump so much snow that even the law school cancelled classes. Bottom line, if this whole global warming thing has got you worried (I've seen the pictures, and I admit they got me a bit depressed), I assure you it's plenty cold down here. And we've got lots of drunken frat boys that you can gobble up, should your tummies get hungry.

Secondly, what would ya'll do if you were given $100,000? I went to get my Air Force physical Tuesday (all clear, unless the urinalysis ends up showing the doobies I was smoking while driving to the processing center) and at one point I was sitting with an Army Guard enlistee who graduated from high school a couple years ago. I asked him what his main motivations were for joining the guard and there were primarily two. First, he was looking forward to getting training in small arms repair, so he could figure out how to convert one of his rifles from semi-automatic to a fully automatic. Second, he knew of someone who came back from Iraq with $100,000 worth of combat pay, etc. and he was looking for the same thing. I mentioned that $100,000 would be an awesome down payment on a house, which was when the conversation faltered a bit. Yeah, he said after a brief pause, but I'll probably just rent. I'm going to totally blow my money (his words, not mine) -- buy a dirtbike, car, quad, and a bunch of instruments so my friends and I can start a band. This guy is on the tail end of two years dedicated solely to paying off credit card debts, but apparently he didn't learn a whole lot during that time.

So here's the politically incorrect part: I know that there are people who run into circumstances bigger than themselves, etc., etc., but after learning about many of my wife's co-workers and having various interactions of my own, it's become pretty evident that many (if not most?) of the people struggling financially are in that situation by their own doing. There is no inalienable right to cell phones, big screen TVs, or eating out. If you can't afford it, don't buy it. Being manager at her store, my wife makes the biggest salary, but we are on the bottom end when it comes to "stuff" bought. If we can't afford it, or if we can afford it but think the money would be better spent elsewhere, we don't buy it.

I can see that I'm sounding more and more like a crochety old man, so I'll quit now. Politically incorrect point is, while some people find themselves in hard times due to circumstances admittedly beyond their control, a lot of other people exacerbate, if not outright create, the situation with little help from a conveniently amorphous "society". So there you have it. Respond freely.

hu who?

2008-01-17T12:52:00.000-08:00

If you will, please allow me yet another post based on extremely tenuous celebrity connections.

The wife attended a round table yesterday that featured some corporate big wigs as the facilitators. One of them related a story of when she was at corporate headquarters a little while ago and was en route to a meeting. At one point (I'm unclear as to whether this was in an elevator, during a pre-meeting discussion, or what) she notices a man standing beside her whom she had never met before. Wanting to be friendly, she turns, introduces herself, and asks, "What do you do with the company?" His response: "I'm...the president of China." It turns out she was speaking to the guest of honor at this big meeting she was about to attend. Whoops.

***

On an unrelated note, I'd like to express my pure joy over the fact that primary season is upon us. For whatever sick reason, I get more excited about elections than I do about Christmas. What with the primaries spread out as they are, it's like having a political advent calendar. I guess that means Super Tuesday is the big prize you get on Christmas Eve.

best-laid plans of mice and men

2008-01-13T00:29:00.000-08:00

Over break we had a Thai friend visiting us for several days. Overall this is a good thing, but preparing for her arrival reminded of when the wife and I were preparing for our move to Thailand by reading different books on Thai culture. I remember thinking back then, "holy cow, there are a lot of ways to screw up." No pointing your feet at others. No touching people on the head. No making kids look you in the eye if you're scolding them. Don't, don't, do.

By the time our friend arrived we had made several sweeps of the house to make sure that things were in culturally sensitive order. My old school picture of the Thai king was put above eye level. A mutual friend in Thailand was consulted as to whether our visitor, who is Thai but not Buddhist, would be offended by our buddha head and hands. We even prepared some Thai dishes for when she arrived, knowing she had been eating western food and isn't a huge fan.

So the evening after she arrived we asked if she wanted to watch a DVD. After looking through our collection, she decided on an Adam Sandler flick -- Anger Management. Sounds good. That is, until that scene I had forgotten about, where Adam Sandler and Jack Nicholson spend about 10 minutes beating up on Buddhist monks. And using such choice phrases as "tell me how you can call a 400 pound man the model of restraint." The kicker was probably when Adam Sandler pulled one monk's robe up and starting swinging him around by his bright orange underwear.

It was like watching a sex scene with your parents, except a hundred times worse. My only consolation is that we actually got the movie in Thailand, and our friend was the one who chose it as our evening entertainment. Still, I don't think that quite makes up for it.

an open letter to the patrons of the local chain coffee shop

2007-12-19T10:38:00.000-08:00

Dear patrons,
Since my wife manages the store you go to, I hear a number of stories. Stories that have prompted me to write a letter with a few simple requests. I'll even number them, to keep it simple.

1. Please do not steal toys from the collection box for terminally ill children. I understand if you do not want to donate, but stealing toys from dying kids simply goes too far. Please try to refrain.

2. If you do indeed feel an irresistable urge to steal, I recommend not swiping something from the display shelf and then walking it directly to the cashier so as to get a refund on your "return". Seeing as how the display shelf is right in front of the cash register, you aren't being very sneaky.

3. Please wear pants when going through the drive-through.

4. Please do not pleasure your boyfriend while picking up your drink at the drive-through.

5. You are not entitled to a free drink just because someone scrawled a naughty word on the drive-through menu.

6. Please do not ask the baristas to wipe off the steam wand again so you can watch. That's just creepy.

7. They do not carry diet Pepsi. They will not carry diet Pepsi any time in the foreseeable future. Please stop getting angry when they do not have diet Pepsi. Traditionally, this is the same with all coffee shops.

8. If you are going to hit on my wife by asking her name and then saying it is "really, really, really sexy," make sure none of your wife's friends work at the same coffee shop.

There, I've said my piece. Please don't make me write another letter.
Sincerely,
T.M.

woot!

2007-12-18T23:50:00.000-08:00

I officially have a job. For my next daring feat, I will attempt to pass the Air Force JAG medical examinations without discovering collapsing arches or some other odd disqualifying condition.

I don't have to actually commit until after I pass the bar, but it sure feels good to have my first choice available. And I thought it was hard to stay motivated this semester....

futbol is for commies, soccer is for socialists

2007-11-21T15:06:00.001-08:00

Someone I worked with this summer has a little boy, who is not allowed to play on a soccer team. Turns out the husband says (mostly jokingly) that soccer is a commie sport. Is this true? I don't know. I'll just present the evidence and let you decide for yourself.

Evo likes it.

So does Hugo.

Mahmoud's even a fan.

(not a commie or any variant thereof, I know, but still a general baddie)

Then of course there's the main man himself, Fidel. I'm not sure what he's doing here, but it does involve a soccer ball.

Fidel's the tricky one, though. Just when you think he's all pimped out commie style, he busts a thoroughly American move on you. For instance, I present to you, this:

As if that weren't enough, not only does he go American, he goes all out and does the whole midwestern housewife thing. Yes, you know what I'm talking about -- a glamour shot:

*Sigh* Now I find myself harkening, yet again, to the good old days when commies were commies, midwestern housewifes were midwestern housewives, and only one of the two played soccer. Where has the innocence gone?

what happens in vegas...shows up in your bar application character fitness investigation

2007-11-20T22:22:00.000-08:00

So the wife and I went to Vegas for an all-around good time.

Ate tons of food, saw a show, lost a dollar to video poker. And had an interesting conversation:

Timeshare hawker, filling out our information so we could get a free show and buffet for sitting in on a presentation: Are you two together? Yes. Married? Yes. To each other? [confused pause...] Yes.

And she wasn't even trying to make a joke. Man I love that town.

oh, well that's great

2007-11-01T18:08:00.000-07:00

Are you kidding me? As you may recall, I am not this man's biggest fan. Why don't we just go ahead and ask Castro to become the new U.S. president, while we're at it? Sheesh.

I remember my young and innocent days, when wrong was wrong and right was right. Now ... well, I just don't know anymore.

revenge of the monkeys

2007-10-21T20:31:00.000-07:00

Oh, I believe it. As some of you know, my wife has an, ahem, interesting history with monkeys. The non-explicit chapter of her saga took place when we were at the Monkey Temple, near Jaipur, India. The temple area, straddling a spring and nestled in a narrow chasm, is full of monkeys. This particular day there were even more monkeys because (according to a local we met there) either a tiger or a leopard was on the prowl nearby. I imagine the monkeys thought it would be safer to mingle among creatures that are both more filling and less aware of their surroundings - namely, humans.

The same type of monkey assasin that sent the Indian official plummeting to his death also liked to have my wife feed him, as encouraged by the previously-mentioned local. One particular monkey, however, was a little problematic. He liked to hold my wife's hand as she fed him (not unlike myself), so my wife tried to reach out and pet him back. Mistake. Right when she touched his fur, his little hand darted out, grabbed her hair, and pulled her in as he stood there and stared this intense killer-monkey-stare right into her eyes. It took the local running over and prying my wife's hair out of the monkey's hands before the beast would back down. Apparently he's a bit of a control freak.

And for the record, the reason I didn't fend off the monkey ninja was because I was standing farther away than the local was. And the monkey better be glad for that, because if I had gotten ahold of him there would have been Rhesus pieces all over the place. Oh, I kill myself.

with love, from nigeria

2007-10-11T00:24:00.001-07:00

The wife and I have been trying to sell her car (anyone want a Ford Probe? Comes with snow tires and an upgraded stereo!), and I recently received an email from a friendly chap named James. His English isn't very good, but I have been able to make out that he's very excited about buying the car. So excited, in fact, that he doesn't even want to look at it before making the purchase. All I need to do is give him some of my personal information, then he'll send me a check and have his shipper come pick the car up. I will need to pay the shipper, so James is just going to send me a really big check and have me take out the cost of the car and the shipper, then send the rest back to him. What a nice and trusting guy!

A scam? Well, yeah. Still, I thought I'd write the guy back. Told him I was really excited he was buying the car, because my little sister is sick and we need money so that she can get her medical treatments. Then I just sent him an email a few minutes ago saying that some other nice person who wants to send me a check and have his shipper pick the car up has contacted me and wants to offer more money, so if James still wants the car he'll have to pony up more cash. That doesn't matter to him, of course, since he doesn't plan on giving me any money at all, but it might make him a little worried about the competition.

My wife told me I'm being mean. What is your opinion, dear blog reader? Do I keep playing along, do I fess up, or do I just stop returning his emails? I'm starting to feel a little bad about all this, but at the same time he is trying to scam me and my sick little (non-existent) sister.

I await your decision.

oh my(anmar)!

2007-10-06T00:46:00.000-07:00

Weeks away from my blog, and I return with the simultaneously cheesy and tacky subject line offered above. Plus, the title only works if you mispronounce the country's name. I apologize.

I've been trying to avoid a multi-project-induced nervous breakdown the past few weeks, and while I make no guarantees, the end is nearly in sight and I hopefully will not be taking hostages any time soon.

The whole Myanmar (a.k.a. Burma) protest and crackdown has prompted me to come out from hiding and make a post, be it ever so unwitty. Basically, all I have to say is, "You suck, Gen. Than Shwe." Sorry I'm not much more eloquent at one thirty in the morning. While living in Thailand, I got to spend a little time working with and learning about the Karen, an ethnic hill tribe that straddles the Thai-Burmese border. They have been fighting successive Burmese military regimes for over 50 years, trying to set up the same kind of semi-autonomous region that other ethnic tribes were promised when Burma gained independence from Britain.

As a result of the fighting, tens of thousands of Karen refugees have fled to refugee camps in Thailand. Since they are unable to leave the camps, however, they make good targets for the Burmese military, which sometimes crosses the border in dry season and shells the camps with phosphorous shells, which easily catch the dried-leave roofs on fire, sometimes destroying entire camps. At the school I was at while in the camp, the teachers remove all the books and records during the summer, so as to not lose them in fire should the Burmese burn the camp during dry season. Since Thailand would prefer that the refugees go back to Burma, the Thai military, which runs the camps, sometimes coordinates the attacks with the Burmese military by doing such things as drawing down troop levels before Burmese attacks, or simply leaving key gates unguarded when they know the Burmese are coming.

Students in the camp

The wife and I spent a couple days in Rangoon (a.k.a. Yangon), where a lot of the current situation is/was centered, and one of the most striking things was how "country" the populace is even in the nation's most urbanized city. It was like being with some of the most rural people in Thailand, with most the men still wearing wraps around their waists and many of the women still putting paste on themselves and their kids as a sort of sunblock. Whereas in Thailand or even Cambodia or Laos a lot of the street vendors will be selling trinkets, snacks, etc., in Rangoon the most common thing sold on the street was random metal objects, be they wrenches, screws, or the occasional alms bowl.

The economic policies and general oppression by the military regime has had such a negative impact on even the more-favored ethnic Burmese, not to mention the various disfavored ethnic minorities, that when you go there you can imagine that it hasn't changed much at all since the British moved out in the late 40s. In some ways that can be good, I suppose, but the people should at least be allowed to make that decision on their own. Instead, for instance, when they elected Aung San Suu Kyi as their president the military simply put her under house arrest, where she is even today.

Burmese mother and child

I guess that's my two cents. I try to stay away from rants, since they generally just make people look angry and crazy (hopefully neither of which apply to me), but today I suppose I'll make an exception.

ah yes, now I remember

2007-09-05T23:55:00.000-07:00

I was only one and a half weeks into the new school year before I had to pull an all-nighter, due to a perfect storm of journal and job application deadlines. It was around 5:30 in the morning, after my wife had already gotten up, dressed, and left for work, that I began asking myself what in the heck I was doing this for. Why not just wake up, flip burgers, go home, watch tv, and go to sleep.

But then I received a youtube clip from a professor, and it all came clear again. Why do I do this, you ask? Well, perhaps Captain Kirk explains it best...

now, the moment you haven't been waiting for...

2007-08-25T19:06:00.000-07:00

I know, I know -- you're all desperate to see pictures of the Peru trip. Well, lucky reader, it is my pleasure to present to you...a trip

We started off in Lima, land of protests and women with llamas on their heads.

"We need a statue of a woman," the man told the sculptor. "And there needs to be llama on her head. "Llama?" "Yes, llama." "OK, it's your statute." Someone should have asked whether "llama," Spanish word for furry Andean creature, was intended, or "llama," Spanish word for fire. True story.

After Lima, we went to Huacachina, a tiny oasis out in the middle of a bunch of sand dunes. There was an ugly pug with a Peruvian orange around his neck, and there were sand dunes.

There was Titicaca (now suppressing childish giggles)

Peruvian Coast Guard boat. Really.

The whole lake wasn't this slimy. See the Bolivian picture below.

There was a short trip to Bolivia, home of Evo Morales and ladies with florescent blankets and bowler hats.

There were also other things that I'm too lazy to post, so I'll wrap it up with the final place we visited - Machu Picchu. It was steep.

It was like the postcards

And it was be-llama-ed

In the end, we flew home. I knew our plane was safe, because security had already confiscated all the handguns, butcher knifes, blow guns, and bow and arrow sets.

So there ya go. Thanks for sticking it out.

wh--, where am I?

2007-08-25T00:19:00.000-07:00

My goodness, has it really been that long? Sorry blog reader(s?), I'm apparently just not that into you. I've been thinking of little blog entries to make, but apparently haven't had enough motivation to actually do anything about it, until now. What with the way I go without blogging for a month at a time then post three posts in a one hour period, I guess I'm sort of like a bulemic blogger. A blogemic. So please, humor me as I binge.

I guess the best way to go about this is to just do it. So here goes:

The Big City
I spent this summer commuting to the military base from a city that shall remain unnamed. It was an hour commute each way, and at first it was sort of fun -- not unlike Mario Kart, minus the shells. But then my iPod died. And I found myself listening to a mix of NPR and Top 40 radio. Both annoyed me, but for different reasons.

Almost all of the programming on NPR is quite interesting, but the faux accents irritate me, as does the blatant ego-stroking of listeners that occurs from time to time, reminding us of how much more intelligent we are than someone listening to, say, Top 40. Get over yourself. Or myself. Or whosever self it is that you need to get over.

But Top 40 wasn't necessarily any better. The morning DJs were somewhat witty, but soon I could have sworn I was going to drive the car right into a concrete barrier if I had to hear Fergie tell me one more time about how she was going to miss me like a child misses her blanket. After a while it didn't matter anyway, since someone stole my stereo.

In the end, I the thing that convinced me I couldn't live there, or even just be an out-and-out dyed-in-the-wool liberal was the anger. I would always tell how close I was to home on my commute from work by how angry the bumperstickers were. Who knew there were so many things/people/ideas/locations/pets to be angry at? I have a sneaking suspicion your bumperstickers aren't going to stop global warming or change American foreign policy, but if it lets you release some steam, I guess you can have at it. And speaking of global warming, let's move on to the next topic....

Hybrids
Jokes about high levels of smug emissions aside, I think hybrids are a good idea. Don't know how much of a difference they'll make until large scale polluters cut back on their own emissions, but they're a good idea nonetheless. And no matter what your political leanings are, everyone should be pleased with less pollution and less dependence on foreign oil.

So why aren't there more of them out there? In part because they aren't yet cost effective -- if you have one, you have one not to save money, but to be a responsible citizen of your world and/or country. The other problem is that if you see someone driving a hybrid, you're five times as likely to see a Republicans for Voldemort bumpersticker than a Romney in '08 sticker. In other words, hybrids are for liberals. Or to be more accurate, hybrids are not for conservatives. Why this should be the case, especially when our national security is tied so closely to oil and when national security has been traditionally thought of as a "conservative issue" is beyond me, but it shouldn't be that way. I don't know how to change it -- maybe name the next hybrid The Patriot. Or show a commercial with bin Laden driving an H2. Yeah, I like that one. Whatever it is, someone hop on that right away. Chop chop.

And while we're discussing patriotism (albeit obliquely), let me move onto what I hope is my final topic....

Baseball
Got to see a game this summer. I didn't have any real strong feelings for or against the home team, but they were playing the Yankees, and I am always prepared to root against the Yankees. In fact, every single one of the Yankees can jump off a cliff, as far as I'm concerned. Suck it, Derek Jeter. Joe Torre, you better hope you never meet me in a dark alley.

Why the strong feelings? Because I like the Dodgers, and Dodgers fans don't like the Yankees. Why do I like the Dodgers? Because my dad does, and that's who he taught me to like. Why don't Dodgers fans like the Yankees? Because their a bunch of SOBs. And something about Brooklyn, I think. Why didn't I care about the home team? Because I haven't leave in close enough geographical proximity to them for a long enough period of time. If religion is the opium of the people, then sports are the pressure valve of international relations.

Some of the most anti-nationalist people I know are also the most avid sports fans and, as far as I can tell, their choice of teams relies primarily on either a) where they live, or b) who their parents raised them to love/loathe. Sports are great in part because they allow us to satisfy our nationalist urges without, say, invading small countries. Granted, it doesn't always work, but at least it's a start.

Phew. I guess that's about it. I was going to mention something about economic interdependence being the new mutually assured destruction (doesn't that sound brilliant? NPR would be so proud), but it's almost two in the morning. I was also going to post pictures from our trip to Peru but, well, it's almost two in the morning. Maybe next time.

Binge complete.

happy friday the 13th

2007-07-13T23:49:00.000-07:00

I walk out to the car this morning so as to head to work, and notice that the top of the window is popped out somewhat, as if it were very much off track. Odd, I thought, I wonder if someone - crap.

So I had my car broken into. Somewhere deep inside I had one last shred of innocence, but it is now gone. I don't even care so much that the cooling vents in my dash are broken, that the dash panel has random gouges, and that my stereo is missing, since insurance will (hopefully) pay for that. I guess what gets me is that someone had the gall to take something that clearly was not theirs, and trash my car in the process. I'm not angry, but I do (calmly) hope the perpetrator is castrated one day, and that as the snipping is taking place, the snipper says, you do know this is for breaking into that guy's car, right? My judicial philosophy is apparently that of what they call a "hangin' judge."

The guy even stole my quartz arrowhead that I had found as a kid a long time ago. The little SOB. Don't ask why I was keeping the arrowhead in my car. I'm not sure if that gets to me more, or the fact that he didn't steal my sunglasses. Could he really tell they only cost me fifteen dollars? You tend to second guess yourself when not even a arrowhead-swiping thief wants your sunglasses.

I guess until I get things repaired and replaced, I'll just be rolling ghetto style.

pilot envy

2007-06-17T21:24:00.000-07:00

There are many reasons to be jealous of the pilots on base ("deployments" to New Zealand and Antarctica, anyone?), but I think the thing that gets me most is the fact that they get to wear onesies at work. While everyone else has to wear camo (and don't get me wrong, that probably still beats a suit and a tie), the pilots wear these things that I'm pretty sure half of them just sleep in at night. And they have tons of pockets all over, with a cool zipper pocket down at the very bottom of the leg, where they can put their hat.

You're so smug, pilot-man. You and your zippered onesies.

graceland

2007-05-31T19:45:00.000-07:00

I never understood it when friends were so annoyed by a radio or tv personality that the personality couldn't even be on air without the friend asking that the radio/tv be shut off. That is, until I met Nancy Grace.

Maybe if her show were like this a little more often, I could put up with her. Ahh, sophomoric humor, how I love thee.

daddy likey

2007-05-21T19:33:00.000-07:00

So, everyone excited about the four day weekend coming up? You know - memorial day on Monday and family day on Friday? Oh right, I only get that off because I'm doing the JAG this summer. You all must be pretty excited about being paid to participate in sports day all day on Thursday, though, right? Oh, yeah, my bad - JAG, again. Paid to get off work early and play ultimate frisbee every Friday afternoon? Right, same story.

Well my summer's going well, at least.

con law, you're dead to me

2007-05-01T14:25:00.000-07:00

So part of my con law exam this morning involved me having to list all the Supreme Court justices. The conservative ones were easy, because I can remember any name that is always preceded by some expletive when pronounced by my professor.

Fairly regularly this semester, class would end with my professor launching into a tirade against capitalism and writing giant dollar signs over any black letter law he had written on the chalkboard. I just about took his exam and handed it in with only irate dollar signs for answers, but decided against it at the last minute.

pruriently interesting

2007-04-26T14:53:00.000-07:00

So we just finished studying obscenity and the first amendment. Good thing, too, because it looks like Richard Gere has been doing a little brushing up on obscenity on his own, over in India.

I admit I get a cheap thrill out of seeing allegedly cosmopolitan celebrities skewered for intercultural insensitivities, but that isn't the real reason I'm writing. No, the real reason is the irony in the fact that the arrest warrant, the protests, and the burning of effigies were all sparked in part by the fact that Gere's actions were allegedly an "outrage against her [some Bollywood actress's] modesty."

This from the country where, when my wife and I visited, we couldn't walk down the street without men shouting at her, bending over, and humping each other. Quite literally. And it's not even as though she was dressed skankily or in a way that would be offensive to (or "appeal to prurient interests" within) the culture. True, I was wearing nothing but a leopard skin speedo, but I'm pretty sure their cat calls weren't directed at me.

According to one source, Indian men act that way towards white women because they think white women in real life are like women in Hollywood movies who will give you the ol' one two at the drop of a hat. Either way, what constitutes an outrage against Shilpa Shetty's modesty and an outrage against my wife's modesty are apparently two different things.

insert insensitive title here

2007-04-20T15:47:00.000-07:00

Since becoming a store manager of the-entity-which-shall-remain-unnamed, my wife's had to fire a couple people. It's possible that she feels bad about this on her own, but just to make sure, I usually give her an extra hard time about it.

Like when she fired the suicidal girl. She just stopped coming to work, she said. Her blood will be on your hands, I said. Most recently, it was a guy who, well, had a number of issues. Just watch, I said, he's going to come back and have a shootout.

So today, the wife gets to work and discovers that the local college and high school are both closed down, the news networks are splashing someone's picture across the screens, and the police are on a manhunt. Something about a threatened shooting to commemorate Columbine. Turns out, the suspect was the person she had just fired. Lest you worry, you should know that several hours and multiple calls to the police later, the guy was apprehended.

Is an "I told you so" inappropriate?

your daily mac down

2007-04-19T23:40:00.000-07:00

professor (to japanese-american classmate): What would you do if I called you a bleeping nip?

classmate: [pause]. I guess I'd call you an asshole.

Ahh, con law. And the above exchange was only after a shouting match ensued between the prof and a classmate, which prompted three other students to simply walk out. Unfortunately, I missed the shouting match and walkout (due to a job interview that made me late for class), but I was able to make it for the above-cited exchange.

p.s. I apologize if the above-cited language was offensive. Apparently, however, I'm not remorseful enough to actually delete it. Almost, but not quite.

kim jong il, inspiration of students

2007-04-12T18:58:00.000-07:00

One more week of classes left, and I still haven't gotten past page two on my first outline. Does this worry me? No, not so much as it gives me a perpetual knot in my stomach. Then again, I guess that's worry. Still, this video comforts me:

Brilliant idea. Thank you dear leader, Kim Jong Il. Instead of wasting this last week working on outlines, I will create my own personal propaganda video, which I will force each one of my profs to imbibe while listening to triumphant commie music. Tortia Man: Fearless Taker of Tests, Whose Essay Answers Inspire All People of the Mighty Motherland. Put that sucker on loop, and my "A"s are guaranteed.

FRCPs, pakistani style

2007-04-03T23:15:00.000-07:00

Now here's how you get things done. Screw the motion for appeal, give me a friggin' riot. Clearly, I'm attending law school in the wrong country.

See those guys hurling rocks at the police? You can bet your last interrogatory those guys are defense attorneys.

high-brow spam

2007-03-26T13:51:00.000-07:00

So I've been getting this rather bizarre spam for quite a while now. Gmail lets me see the first few words of each email and when I glance at my spam folder to make sure nothing was sent there accidentally, I often see some pretty high-brow, albeit vaguely ESL, spam.

An example: "...of languid elegance which would have been very effective if his twinkling eyes so I give you fair warning, in such case I'll break the bargain, and go straight some poky old maid who will cuddle him when he is sick."

I finally broke down and googled a few select phrases, and found out that most the spam messages contain excerpts of Louisa May Alcott works, with a little bit of The Wizard of Oz thrown in for good measure. Odd, huh? I guess its better than messages about pills that can...well, you get the picture.

lesson learned

2007-03-13T23:27:00.000-07:00

24 hours ago, the wife dumped the last bit of our old ice cream into the sink. It's still there. The ice cream, that is, not the sink. Well the sink is still there too, but let's focus on the ice cream. Point is, there's an important lesson to be learned: don't buy cheap ice cream. I'm all for cheap, but I do get unnerved when my ice cream defies physics.

p.s. we aren't as slovenly as 24 hours of ice creamed sink might imply. It became an experiment for me after the first hour, and the wife was too preoccupied with earning money at work and with other non-sink pursuits to stop my relentless pursuit of knowledge.

justice with the stars

2007-03-11T14:21:00.000-07:00

I spent last weekend in Seattle, competing against 16 other teams in a trial team competition. The good news is we won! The bad news is we won in the sense of "everyone's a winner when you try your best." Our team did do well, though, and next year we're winning regionals and going straight to nationals. Of course, I'm hoping it isn't "winning" in the sense of trying hard and "going to nationals" in the sense of actually staying home and wondering what it would have been like had we gone to nationals.

But as you shall soon see, all was not lost. A while back, I posted some sniveling remarks on how I dislike celebrity shows, such as the ones that show celebrities ballroom dancing, celebrities ice skating, celebrities trying to lose weight, and even (briefly) celebrities engaging in competitive cooking. All stupid, stupid, stupid, if you ask me. However, there is one option I approve of and that I see King County has already adopted - Justice with the Stars. Apparently, the first season will feature the original MF (McFly) himself, Michael J. Fox:

Personally, if I were a judge with this name I would go by Mike and drop the "J.," but apparently this particular honorable sir has adopted the same stance as did Michael Bolton in Office Space.

20/20

2007-02-14T14:24:00.000-08:00

For some reason, there aren't very many things I've done in life that I've regretted. There are a few things, however, that in hindsight weren't the smartest moves. That's why I present to you my three regrets in life (in no particular order).

1) Eating cow brains. No, really. With a spoon. Remarkably soft -- like pudding. The whole brain was there, passed around, and you just got to take however much you wanted. Needless to say, this was before the whole mad cow disease scare. What can I say -- I was young and foolish, it was an Armenian wedding, and I wanted to be able to say I had eaten cow brain. Now I wonder every so often if death is lying dormant in my skull.

2) Implying sexual promiscuity on an official application. It was meant as a joke and seemed funny at the time, but considering the fact that it was an application for advancement to candidacy within my undergrad university's school of theology, it probably still wasn't all that smart. The question was whether I had any kids. Answer: Not that I know of. Every one of my theology professors saw it, as I knew they would. What an idiot.

3) Joking about death with two newly-orphaned brothers. Yeah, I know. Again, what an idiot. Their mother died the night before (dad had died about a year ago) and my girlfriend (now wife), our friend, and I took them out to see a movie in order to take their minds of things. En route, I (honest to goodness thinking about two other people who had died recently and completely forgetting about the kids' mom) started talking about how everyone was "dropping like flies." After receiving the look of death from my girlfriend, I realized what I was doing and shut up for the rest of the evening. Perhaps the biggest faux pas I have ever committed in my life.

I do have a list of non-regrets, but I don't know if they balance out the three regrets listed above. Basically, the list consists of buying a Vanilla Ice ring tone and running naked down the middle of an entire fairway. There may be other things, but they don't come to mind right now. Oh yeah -- marriage. Would have sucked to forget that one on Valentine's Day.

big badda boom

2007-02-01T20:45:00.000-08:00

Run! It's a...cartoon flipping me off? Apparently, Bostonians are a little skittish these days. Something like nine cities across the country had these little guys put up around town (see below), and Boston was the only one that was sure they were bombs. As if that wasn't enough, the Boston authorities are now pressing charges against the cartoon-ophiles who posted the placard things around town. You'd think the Boston authorities would realize they had overreacted when none of the other cities batted an eye and that Boston would instead just drop everything, laugh nervously, and back away. Apparently that's now how they roll in bean town.

My favorite part was the quote by the mayor or some such official, saying, this is serious -- these things would have been really destructive had they been explosive. Ya think? Puppies would be really destructive if they were explosive, but you don't see me ducking behind trees every time one walks by.

Behold, the end is near

conspircacy theory du jour

2007-02-01T19:35:00.000-08:00

Is anyone else a little weirded out by everything going on in Venezuela? I've never observed the formation of a socialist dictatorship, that I can recall, but it sure is starting to look like that's what's going on down there. After taking over numerous private corporations and putting them under government control, Chavez has now convinced the national legislature to hand him sweeping lawmaking powers. Add the media and dissident censorship, and there's a real fun time brewing down there. I doubt it will have a huge affect on me in the states, but if I were Venezuelan I think I might start looking for the exit.

The conspiracy theory promised in the headline is this: when Castro dies, sorry ol' Raul, Cuba is going to Chavez. That's right, you heard it here first -- Castro, upon his death, is going to effectively turn control of Cuba over to Venezuela. I don't know if Cuba will be fully incorporated or if it will just become a protectorate, but that's what is going to happen. That way, Castro will be able to stick it to the US one more time, Cuba will be in the hands of a capable (by Castro standards) leader, and Chavez will be able to strengthen his hand in his attempt to assert himself as a Latin American answer to US power. This future transfer of power is why Cuban television has been showing Chavez and Castro together so much as Castro's health declines -- slowly, the Cuban people are being groomed to see Chavez as the natural, trusted, chosen successor.

Do I honestly believe it? No, not really. But you can bet your last peso I'll be putting that on my CIA intelligence analyst application should the prediction come true.

No, you the man!

pathetic, I know

2007-01-31T00:17:00.000-08:00

I hesitate to make this post for two reasons: 1) the accompanying picture tends to bring both my dog and myself to an even lesser state of dignity, and 2) I just did a post on my dog, and as such I now run the risk of being repetitive.

Damn the torpedoes. Here I go anyway, caution to the wind.

mmm, lacquer...

2007-01-24T12:45:00.000-08:00

Our pug knows he isn't allowed to chew things. This, however, doesn't stop him, and unfortunately, he also seems to prefer belongings that were bought in places we will likely never visit again. He's a connoisseur of destruction, if you will.

Generally he saves his dental indulgences for when we are not at home, but every once in a while we catch him chewing something while we're there. Of course we tell him to stop, which is when the entertainment begins.

First, he drops the object from his mouth and stares at you, trying to understand what in the world would make you suspect him of intentionally chewing anything. Then he trots away, only to turn around and trot back toward the object, giving it a passing glance as he walks on by. A few more seconds, and he'll walk by it again, this time sniffing as he passes. Then, another pass, this time actually stopping to sniff the object. Again, back towards the object, this time stopping by it and laying down. Then nudging it with his nose. And then (here's the fun part), he yawns. Opens his mouth wide, even makes the little yawning sound, and closes his mouth, only to find that somehow, unbeknown to him, the object placed itself in his mouth while he was yawning. And of course, if the object placed itself there, what's a little pug to do but chew?

Scold. repeat.

I wondered how unique this kind of behavior was until I saw the clip below. Apparently it's in the genes.

huh?

2007-01-22T13:01:00.000-08:00

Poignant? Did I really use that word in my last post?

I have a list of words that I have vowed never to use in serious conversation, and poignant is one of them. For me, poignant lies somewhere between exquisite and pretty much any word a rich person would use to describe food or wine.

I'm sorry. It will never happen again.

banksy

2007-01-19T22:52:00.000-08:00

Sick, poignant, or something else? Discuss.

I would tell you that you can see more of this guy by clicking on one of the links on the right, but you already peruse those regularly, right?

if you loved me, you'd kidnap me

2007-01-19T21:57:00.000-08:00

I have a friend who, when he was a boy, was kidnapped by his father. And made to live on a bunny farm. This seems pretty neat to me -- I'd like to be able to drop into casual conversation, it reminds me a little of the time I was kidnapped and living on a bunny farm. Even now when he talks with his dad, he can start sentences by saying, you know when you transported me illegally across state lines, just to stay one step ahead of the feds?

Part of what I thought was so cool about this was that it seemed like an uncommon occurrence. With this in mind, the wife and I were talking with two of our friends and somehow the subject of kidnapping came up. Hey, we said, we actually have a friend who was kidnapped. By his dad! At this point they looked at as, and she said, actually, ---- (the other friend) was kidnapped by his dad, too.

Really?

Yeah.

So apparently I have two different friends who have been kidnapped by their fathers. And the other friend, the second kidnappee, was actually snuck across international borders. I always suspected I had led a sheltered childhood.

mr. toad's wild ride

2007-01-12T23:17:00.000-08:00

Was driving my wife's car the other night, which I don't like to do. This is due to a few facts:

1) First, it's somewhat of a chick car, and I'm only so comfortable with my masculinity. Granted, it's a sporty chick car, but it's still a chick car.

2) Second, the gas pedal is in a somewhat narrow space between the brake and the center divider, making it so that when I wear my (somewhat wider than normal) Doc Martins, my foot will sometimes get stuck while accelerating.

3) Third, the low beams aren't all that strong for some reason. This last one is the important one.

It was night, and I was driving a stretch of highway that is under construction. As a result, the lanes are constantly jogging left and right. This is OK during the daytime, but at night it can sometimes be hard to tell which reflectors are telling you to turn, which reflectors are telling you that you're about to drive on the shoulder, and which reflectors just happen to be left there because the construction people didn't think to put them away for the night. Driving back, I had my low beams on at one point because a) I was following someone, and b) I'm not a jerk. Hence, my vision wasn't all it could have been.

At that point, the story got interesting. Driving happily, driving happily, what? Oh s**t, the road's turning. Why weren't there any arrows? Turn wheel gently. Make the turn, but don't overcompensate and lose control of the car. Oh s**t. The road's not turning. That's why there were no arrows. Damn reflectors. Turn wheel back, so as to not drive straight off the side of the road. Turn more, you aren't going to make it. Be careful, since the studded tires will slide easily on the dry asphalt. Phew, I'm going to make...s**t. Fish tail. Gently turn into the skid. Regaining control...oh bugger, never mind.

And as I recommence my fishtail, the thought running through my mind was, crap, this is going to wear the studs down and I might not get another season out of them. Then a one-eighty, followed by the realization that I'm headed straight for a mile-marker sign, followed by thoughts of how damage to my own car isn't covered on the insurance.

Thankfully, I somehow managed to almost drive off the side of the road at 65 miles an hour, turn back onto the road, do a one-eighty, dodge a series of reflectors and a mile-marker sign, and land safely on the shoulder (though by this time I was facing oncoming traffic).

Luckily, I had listened to my wife last winter when she insisted she needed a full-sized shovel in her car in case she ever got stuck in the snow, and while I was stuck in the gravel, the end result was the same. In fact, the only downside to there being a shovel handy was having two separate people who stopped to help me ask why in the world I was carrying a shovel in the back of the car. What kind of crazy person does that? Married crazy people, that's who.

lord, vanquished

2007-01-12T22:58:00.000-08:00

So how will this affect my quest to become Lord T.M.?

happy new year

2006-12-31T13:30:00.000-08:00

Holy crap. Three years ago, I spent New Years at the square near where one of the bombs went off. And saw the (now deposed) prime minister who some are apparently holding responsible for all this.

As a somewhat bizarre aside, the police actually started firing on part of the crowd when we were there that New Years. Some people were throwing glass bottles, so the police just whipped out their guns and started firing away. As we were dodging fire, we figured the police were probably just firing rubber bullets, but our students later said they're not so into the whole rubber bullet thing in Thailand.

part the next, in which our hero explains his prolonged absence

2006-12-17T15:46:00.000-08:00

Finals. That's my explanation. For those contemplating law school, I give you this advice: should you choose to subject yourself to it, make sure that you outline your class materials as you go through the semester. Otherwise, you will stay up until three in the morning the night before your test (which is timed such that you need to wake up only three hours later), trying to make sense of your notes. Your wife, whose insane hours begin only after she drives 45 minutes to actually get to work, will wake up to start the day before you are even in bed. This will happen twice. One of those times, you will spend the last several hours looking over your notes and mumbling to yourself, standard of review? Why in the world did I write down the standard of review for these situations? That's way more detailed than he's ever going to care about. I'm certainly not going to waste my time memorizing that. You will then spend significant amounts of time the next morning looking over the test questions and mumbling to yourself, standard of review? Why in the world didn't I study for that? That's just the kind of details he cares about. *Sigh*

****

In better news, I have accepted a summer internship. I will be killing babies. Or, rather, legally justifying the killing of babies who once enjoyed idyllic lives playing jump rope and riding unicorns.

That's right, I'm doing a summer internship with the air force JAG. Sarcasm aside, I'm actually really excited about the opportunity. So take that, potential employer who wouldn't even give me a second interview (you know who you are). There are only 50 of these internships in the country, so I feel vindicated, and my self-esteem manages to remain relatively in tact for yet another semester.

I was talking with a classmate who got an internship at what I take to be a fairly prestigious firm (I personally had never heard of it before, but then again I try to stay as far away from private law firms as possible), and she said that she had just received a Christmas package from them -- a nice scarf and ear muffs. Something tells me the air force isn't really into that type of thing, but I keep checking my mail box anyway.

****

Finally, I'll turn to something completely different -- the '08 presidential race, which apparently is just around the corner. I was reading a Newsweek article on Hilary Clinton and Barack Obama, asking whether the country is ready for a female or a minority president. It's possible that I'm completely out of touch, but I think that mostly stopped being a problem a while ago. Not a long while ago, mind you, but a while ago nonetheless. People point to the dismal showings of former candidates like Jesse Jackson or Al Sharpton to say that minorities, for instance, still have a ways to go, but I think that's a poor example. The problem with people like Sharpton and Jackson trying to run is that they are both extremely self-promoting, and nuts. American politics seems to be quite accepting of either of these characteristics alone, but we have not yet found room in our political hearts for both to exist at the same time in a single candidate.

Instead, I think the real question is perhaps whether this country is ready for someone who doesn't need twice-daily checkups with his spin doctors. We seem to award politicians who either won't give answers to our questions unless the answers are clearly within the acceptable bounds of their respective political party ("abortion / gay marriage is the mark of the beast / a beautiful coming of age for any twelve year old") or who simply don't give answers at all ("I can't tell you what toothpaste I use, or else the terrorists / vast right-wing conspiracy will take over"). I'd like a candidate who just says what they think is right. Do it tactfully, and do it with the support of logic and research, but do it.

Thing is, if a candidate like that comes along, will we simply burn them alive? Will we call them naive and out of touch with the realities of governance? I hope not, but I'm not so sure.

uppity judges = fun times for all

2006-12-11T11:52:00.000-08:00

It's been way too long since I've actually posted anything. Seeing as how I'm frantically trying to prepare for my last two exams, this is about all you're going to get out of me for now. But at least it's a fun one.

*******

In Gas Futures, Inc. of Texas v. Andrus, 610 F.2d 287 (5th Cir. 1980), one contractor entered a bid of 73.45689%, and its opponent bid .82165. The Secretary of the Interior construed .82165 to mean 82.165%, and the first contractor charged that it was arbitrary and capricious to do so.

"In this appeal we are asked to determine whether '.82' is the equivalent of '82%.' Having successfully completed grammar school, we are able to answer in the affirmative.

"(B)ooks intended for scholars in and below the eighth grade do deal with just this question. On page 87 of their treatise entitled Growth in Arithmetic (Revised Edition, Grade Eight) (World Book Co., Yonkers-On Hudson: 1956), John R. Clark and Rolland R. Smith ask the pertinent question: 'Do you know how to change a per cent to a decimal?' Assuming a negative response, the authors set forth certain examples of equivalency: After inviting the students to study these equivalencies carefully, the authors announce this principle: To change a per cent to a decimal, omit the per cent sign and move the decimal point two places to the left.

The authors then ask their readers to 'Study these examples and see if you can make up a rule for changing decimals to per cents.' The examples given are: .06 = 6% .075 = 7.5% = 7 1/2% .0325 = 3.25% = 3 1/4% .125 = 12 1/2% = 12.5% And then the authors set forth this principle: To change a decimal to a per cent, move the decimal point two places to the right, and write the per cent sign after the number.

And so, with this rule in mind, any eighth grader can tell that .82165 = 82.165%"

metamorphosis

2006-11-08T23:23:00.000-08:00

Just learned tonight that yet another friend/acquaintance is getting divorced, which makes for three within the past several months.

I remember when it felt all weird because I was getting to the stage in my life where all my friends were starting to get married. Guess now I'm getting to that stage in life where all my friends are starting to get divorced.

that's LORD t.m. to you

2006-11-05T22:16:00.000-08:00

Why do I surround myself with friends who are better people than me? So they can hopefully even out the scales.

Others may improve the lot of humanity over the holidays; Me, I just want this.

dems for dildos

2006-11-05T22:06:00.000-08:00

The election is Tuesday and, I might as well be honest, I still don't know how I'm going to vote on a number of issues. I do know, however, that this year my default party, should I reach an impasse, is the democrats. Why, you ask? Because their county headquarters are in a storefront that only a few months ago was a sex shop.

I say that any party that is accused of being anti-morality but then still has the balls (overly graphic pun somewhat intended) to set up in a former sex shop is OK by me.

article of coolness

2006-10-27T14:41:00.000-07:00

A friend told me a while back that he was working on a project at Lockheed strangely similar to this. Guess it all came together.

Meanwhile, I'm doing something nearly as cool -- researching how international law might be used to alter unconscionable domestic agreements. Maybe they'll write an article about me, too.

...

2006-10-07T00:52:00.000-07:00

I recently learned that a kid I played Little League with back in California was killed in a car accident. His father and brother were travelling with him in the car, and all three died as the car drifted across the lane and into an oncoming truck. Now only the mother remains.

Really, I only have one memory of him. I'm standing near the end of the bleachers at the Little League field, and he's sobbing loudly into the arms of his mom, because some of the other kids kept hitting him and calling him a faggot. That's it.

Are the dead entitled to more?

12:03 am

2006-10-07T00:21:00.000-07:00

It is 12:03 am, and the lady on the radio just said "good morning". Is this allowed?

While her greeting was technically correct, my initial reaction is nevertheless that person A ought not be permitted to wish person B a good morning unless person A has either a) gone to sleep for the night and woken up, or b) witnessed the rising of the sun.

Discuss.

freedom fighters, unite

2006-09-25T13:13:00.000-07:00

Note to self: Acquire cause du jour.

Note from self: Cause du jour acquired. See The Principality of Sealand.

coup (take two)

2006-09-21T12:20:00.000-07:00

I was thinking about the Thai coup and decided to dig through old pictures that I took while spending a short time volunteering on an elephant reserve that is run by the Thai military. Sounds a bit weird, I know, but the military is sometimes used for grunt labor like that, and this reserve was created by the king, who in many ways has the military at his disposal.

Anyway, the theme that came through the pictires I had: not so scary. Really, I think the PM should just go on back to Thailand, look the generals straight in the eyes, and say "oh come on." That will likely clear the way for him to be reinstated. How do I know this? Allow me to submit exhibit A:

You bet. That's elephant shrubbery. And also my wife, with the Venus de Milo's head superimposed on her own. But pay attention to the elephant shrubbery. Not very threatening, is it?

Now, exhibit B:

Yes, as a matter of fact that is the commanding officer of the camp. With a scarf. And pretty flowers behind him. Again, not so scary, is he?

Still not convinced? Fine, I'll submit exhibit C:

Now I know your initial reaction. "But isn't that an assault rifle? Those things can be scary." Yeah, but not when being held by a 16 year old soldier. Then again, maybe that makes it even scarier. OK. One scary photo, but that's still the minority.

So my advice to PM Thaksin? Go on back to Thailand. It's mostly just flowers and shrubbery.

*****

Clearly the above entry was just an excuse to show you pictures of me and the Thai military. I'm not ashamed of that. I am, however, ashamed of the fact that I still have two more pictures that I wanted to show but wasn't able to work in. So here you are anyway:

That one there is me doing my JFK impression and standing with a couple soldiers. I wanted to pay them five bucks to let me fire their assault rifles, but the wife said no.

That's me with some big general whose name I didn't know, but who must be a bigshot because he flew in on a helicopter. He also must be losing his touch, however, because he didn't even notice that I was pulling off a killer Alexander Hamilton impersonation right behind him the whole time.

And that's it. Hope this was more enjoyable than when your grandma asks you to look at photos from her trip to Palm Springs.

coup coup

2006-09-19T09:11:00.000-07:00

When my wife and I were living in Thailand, I read a book by a lady who lived there for several years while her husband was in the US foreign service. She talked about how there were something like four military coups when she was there and though that was back in either the 60s or 70s (which were much more tumultuous for Thailand), I still always wondered in the back of my mind whether there would be one when we were there.

Well now it's come. I just saw on CNN that as I type these words, tanks appear to be surrounding the office of the prime minister, who happens to be at the UN headquarters in New York right now. Everything's up in the air and no one knows yet if it really is a coup, but darn it, I wish I was there. It's like when there's a family reunion and all your older cousins get to go out and have fun, but you have to stay with the adults. My cousins get to go out and have a coup, while I have to stay with the adults at law school. I never get to play with the big kids.

plaintiff 3, defendant 2

2006-09-11T13:07:00.000-07:00

I was in Little League for a number of years, and at the end of every game each team would huddle, do a short cheer involving rhyming and numbers (3, 6, 9, 12, who do we like besides ourselves...), then line up and file past the other team, with each side saying good game, good game as we walked past the other team. Which brings me to the point of this posting...

The state Supreme Court recently held a session in the law school courtroom, which I got to observe. The fun part, however, was in the end. That's when all five justices came down from the bench (they were the bench warmers, one might say) and shook the hands of each attorney. I couldn't be sure, but I'm almost positive at least one of the justices kept muttering good game.

crocodile hunter, hunted

2006-09-05T12:18:00.000-07:00

I was a little suprised at the tinge of sadness I had upon hearing of the death of Steve Irwin, Crocodile Hunter. Apparently I had some connection to the guy that I never realized was there.

The good part about his death, however, is the incredibly manly way in which he went. When I die, I hope my obituary can read "died of a stingray barb to the heart." Of course I don't want to actually die that way, I just want my obituary to say that I did.

let the drinking begin!

2006-08-22T20:21:00.000-07:00

Ah, the new school year has begun. How do I know? Why, because the night streets are filled with drunken people stumbling around, of course! You know the school year has officially begun when at night you can't tell the local crazies from the local undergrads, each stumbling around and following random people down the sidewalk.

In honor of the new school year, I'd like to draw your attention to a historical fact that had escaped my attention until now. During the Thirty Years War, a certain German town was held under seige. It seems that all the citizens were facing impending doom...unless, that is, one man could pound down three liters of wine, in which case the town would be spared. Terror reigned supreme until one brave soul stepped forward and accepted the challenge. He chugged, saved the town, and died. To this day, the town enacts the story every year in the play Der Meistertrunk. Now that's war. Fratboy style.

jonbenet ramsey, and other things of great importance

2006-08-18T11:09:00.000-07:00

And we're back. I was hoping to mark my glorious return to Tortia by spilling the beans on where in Thailand John Karr, the JonBenet weirdo, had been working. He had just been fired from an international school before getting arrested and, having worked at a Bangkok international school myself, I was curious where he was working. None of the news sources were reporting it, but through a variety of clues gathered on tv and the internet, I managed to figure out he was at Bangkok Christian College, a fairly respected international school. However, I turned on the tv today and saw that a CNN reporter was giving his report from right in front of the school sign, thus beating me to the punch. Oh well. The real question in all of this is why in the world the news networks are taking a ten-year-old murder case more seriously than, say, genocide in Darfur. I'm not exactly a cause-hopping hippie, but the priorities still seem a bit mixed up to me. At any rate, Bangkok Christian College. That's my scoop, day late and a dollar short.

And now for a quick summary of the Thailand trip:

There was Thai food.

There were temples.

There were stray dogs.

There was a ride on a river taxi.

There were not tsunamis (though there were now tsunami warning signs, unfortunately absent when they had been most needed).

And finally, alas, there was not Kim Jong Il (pictured below looking mighty fine and vaguely matrix-esque). That's because of all the days we could have had a layover in Seoul, we chose Korean Liberation Day, when no one is allowed to visit the DMZ. Darn you, liberated Koreans! We considered going into Seoul during our layover, but upon researching the matter, found that a bus ride to and from Seoul would cost $30 per person. So forget that. Instead, we spent over 11 hours walking around the airport. I did convince my wife to go through immigration with me, however, so we could get a passport stamp, thus authorizing me to make broad and knowing statements about the Korean people and culture, seeing as how I've spent time there myself, you know. From now on, I get bonus points for each sentence I speak that begins with the words In my experience, I've found the Korean people to be.... Three cheers for pretentiousness.

All that mockery aside, I do have one observation to make. In researching the DMZ and related things, there seemed to be a general trend of the South Koreans wanting to unite in peace and harmony, dreaming of a better future as a joyous and whole Korea, etc. One doesn't get the same vibe, however, when dealing with the North Koreans (or at least with their government). The disconnect seems slightly ironic. It's like a church I visited one Sunday for a class, which was also housing a black congregation that had to evacuate its own building because of asbestos. During the first service, which was for the people who owned the church, the speaker kept talking about how happy they were to have the black church there, and how they hoped to make it a permanent arrangement. Then when the black congregation held their service afterwards, their speaker kept talking about how it was only a few more weeks until they could fly the coop, thank goodness. Apparently the two sides weren't exactly on the same wavelength, which is the impression I got concerning the two Koreas. One's tying yellow peace ribbons with prayers of hope near the friendship bridge, and the other's secretly digging tunnels capable of transporting a whole division of an invading army in an hour. But then, I guess my observations of a "disconnect in Korea" aren't all that revelatory.

(Kim Jong Il: Hero. Heart-throb.)