You wouldn't believe me if I told ya...

This a political post...
(...like i was gonna let this go by with no comment)


Why does only the black guy have to have his paperwork?

As I understand it, Donald Trump at first did not supply his actual birth certificate for inspection, handing over a piece paper that looks suspiciously like a certificate you can win to certify your hotness from the local carnival. Mitt Romney's birth certificate is sealed, and there is a nary a peep raised. But Obama has to show his driver's license, social security card, birth certificate (both copies), high school diploma, immunization card, a recent cable and power bill, a bank statement and get two references. So here it is. The long form birth certificate. Properly authenticated by the appropriate state officials...from the opposing party.

And wouldn't you know it, now the Republicans are mad at him for releasing it! Although my understanding is something along the lines of 40% of their party members had serious doubts on the matter. And some GOP office holders encouraged the rhetoric. And the GOP party leaders would never go so far as to say it, only that they "took the President at his word". The line now is that it was always a "settled issue."

The sad part is, this will not make this story go away.

Rarely has their existed a weaker, more insane conspiracy than the idea that Obama wasn't born in Hawaii. Despite no evidence to the contrary, other than his father was Kenyan, the idea that he was a Sleeper Muslim planted over 40 years ago by radical socialists unknown found a deep seated place in the mindset of the troubled Republican mind and stayed there. It was as sure a sign of the aboriginal racist that still lurks around some of the darker parts of the national psyche as possible. That the Republican nominee wasn't born in the US (John McCain was born in Panama on a military base) was no issue.

The original crazy lady, Dr/Attorney/Real Estate agent/Carnival Barker Orly Taitz has already chimed in, claiming the document should read Negro, not African...although Obama's father was African, not an American Negro. There will be others who feel the paper isn't the right color...or the type looks like a typewriter used in the hospital reception, not the maternity ward....or something. Anything. Because, this just can't be right. Because they need their America back. Please?

My understanding, although a bit foggy, is that now, the birther crowd is already looking for a new hook. I mean the meetings were so nice, and they already got a bowling league started. So why quit now? How did Obama get into an Ivy League school like Columbia and then Harvard is already percolating in the pot of questions. Um.. he's black. Affirmative Action?

Why, that's a conspiracy!

Those who didn't believe the short form will never believe. And even if you prove A, they'll be onto B so quickly, and C once the second concept has been dis-proven, that you'll quickly realize that these are folks just looking for a reason, any reason at all, to not like the man. To discredit him somehow. For reasons I'm certain that some of them don't even understand.

The Obama didn't bring us into a post-racial America. It just made the ugly lingering scars of it more stark against the background of our imagined reality.

Bar Chatter

Bar Chatter #21
Sometimes it just ain't enough to make a post, but it's still needs to go out....it's just bar chatter.

I went. I saw. I conquered.

Yeah, I won that damn case on Saturday. And that's that.

And afterward, I went home and had me a tall whiskey and soda, fell in the bed and slept 'til morning. And think I went to bed around 9pm. I didn't even realize how serious it was.

Now, onto the rest of it...

You Betta Check Yourself...

Ramblings Post #186
"You betta check yourself before you wreck yourself". The words from the wise sage of my age, an O'Shea Jackson, better known by his public persona Ice Cube. It's a way of saying that overconfidence can get you big trouble. I'm no stranger to overconfidence, especially on those things I think I know. Okay, call it arrogance. And since I don't like myself when I get like that, and it's a slippery slope, I tend to stay low-key. But then there are moments like this...

Yes, that is a "Mike Tyson" quote....go figure.

I'm getting the big head.

My litigation class, and the subsequent exercise associated, is a pass/fail class. Now, they are handing out two A's in the section, but provided you showed up enough, turn in all the assigned work, participated and can actually show them you have a grasp of the material via the aforesaid exercise, you get to pass the class. Which is how the vast majority of the class views it. Way too much work for just a chance at an actual grade.

And since I have two other what look like very lengthy exams, a 24 hour and a 72 hour open book take home, I was all ready to just get on through this so I could concentrate on my "substantive" coursework. I really hadn't thought about being a litigator. Then my first assignment got good marks and I started thinking I could get the A, I got a little excited. I mean, who couldn't use an A on their transcript? But I figured it was wishful thinking.

Then it happened.

My "opposing counsel" had a mini-fit over a minor difference of interpretation, and insisted we all interpret the discrepancy his way, which happened to be in his favor. I had originally joked to the three people in my exercise, my trial partner and the two opposing counsel, that we simply script the whole thing out, pass and keep it moving. Then he decided he wanted to win. Needed to win. You could see it in his eyes. It was a must have.

So I'm not gonna let him.

So for the past two weeks, I've actually gone over this thing with a fine tooth comb. And since you've got either be a witness or juror for one other exercise besides your own, I've been to a pair that have been pretty straight forward if not basic. The exercise is a "fact pattern", designed to have issues both sides are supposed to exploit to show they understand the law and it's application. Our little two person teams will make the legal arguments, develop testimony, the whole schmear, as judged by an actual practicing litigator.

The whole idea of the problem as proposed is that there is no actual answer. Both sides are supposed to put on the best presentation and a group of individuals, typically the first year law students - who know none of the facts until we present them - act as a jury. In the end they reach a verdict and we get graded on if we hit all the needed parts to pass the class. It's a murder case, and its supposed to so ambiguous it could go either way.

Now, I think I've solved it. THINK, mind you. Solved it as in figured out who the real killer is. You see, when I was a kid, my mother got us a subscription to GAMES magazine, which my brother I fought over, and it included puzzles like the two minute mystery. So I've been looking at this as a big something to unravel. I don't think I was supposed do that though, so I got a problem.

What I'm trying to do now is figure out how to get through the session without getting smug. Okay, overly smug. Without playing to the imaginary cameras in the back of the room. Without turning into Vinny Gambini. Without believing that I have been anointed with the undeniable truth and will smite those who blaspheme against my message, as no weapon can be formed that can cleave the solidity of the word, as I have seen it. Which I have occasionally been prone to do. And have occasionally been wrong while doing it.

I mean, I could use the A, but I'm not sure what I want to do, how I want to play the whole thing will actually get it.

Some of my previous strategic decisions regarding law school have not gone over as well as I'd hoped (no complete disasters, I'm still IN law school). I so want to just get through this. Well, wanted. Past tense.

Now, because of my ego. I have to win.

Whoa. I DO have an ego. Well, there goes that theory.

Barkeep. A five hour energy drink and hot toddy.

Tell me you a little about yourself...

Ramblings Post #185
I'm probably the most forward shy person you'd ever meet. I can be jovial, warm and friendly and it might months before you realize you know little about me other than my name and that I like brunch and sweet tea. I can be a fascinating conversationalist on a number of topics, none of which include myself. Yet, as in poker, there is always a tell. And me thinks I've found mine.


I wrote a quick little story the other day, which I posted on my FB account. The idea came to me in a blur, and over the course of the day, between my job and making notes for my upcoming "litigation exercise"...formerly referred to as the mock trial... I sewed together the little idea chunks into a quick little story about a guy in love over the course of a lifetime, held together by a single act of intimacy.

I put it up as a note, attached the names of some friends, and the rest is publishing history. Well, not really. Is putting it up on FB really publishing? Anyway, it was a nice little short, I got some positive responses, but it still could use a little polish.

But reading it again, looking for those ever present polishing points, I realize now that a lot of my stories have less than happy endings. Okay, sad endings. In my stories the guy never gets the girl. There is usually lots of love and emotion, but they always seem to come up short, the "happily ever after" appears to have eluded me. Not even the happily for a little while at least until the story ends endings. In one of my stories, the guy gets hit walking off the sidewalk after getting rejected, another it turns out after he dies he finds out the he was never supposed to have existed, and in another the guy and girl meet again in the twilight of their lives and he lets her go even though he's just going through the motions without her.

Me thinks me got a problem.

I like to think of myself a fairly happy person. Reasonably happy. I'm doing okay. A "make the best of the situation you're in" kinda guy. Flexible. Amenable. Resilient. I have a good time, I have good friends, I enjoy the challenge of law school (did I just write that?), and just like everyone else there is good and bad in my life but all in all I'm way ahead of the curve here. I think.

But ... then I use writing as an outlet for a lot of things I don't talk about. Is that I believe I'm never going to get the girl?

Admittedly, my romantic life has never turned out quite the way I figured. But in reality, whose has?

Wait, did I just write "never"? Never. That's a mighty long time.

Hmmm...

My poetry always seems to mention hope and possibility.
Well, except for the dirty stuff. Er...more adult fare.
My novels are always over plotted and start good but lose their way.
My stories are sad little tales of woe.

Hmmmm...

Maybe I do have an issue.

Barkeep, I need some thinking alcohol.

A pre-movie Review: The Hangover - Part II

Ramblings Post #184
I don't go to the movies. The last time I actually went to the movies I think it was me and Sporty, and come to think of it we still were supposed to go see Honeydripper, which I sincerely doubt is going BACK to the theaters, so we missed one. But I have a bunch of movie channels and can't sleep some nights. In any case, I know a good movie when I see one. And this has so much potential.


The trailer for the upcoming movie the Hangover II was pulled because it gave away too much of the story, which if you watched the trailer is pretty much exactly the same story as the first movie. Now the producers are scared that by letting people know that they've just moved the same story to some place in Thailand people will be disappointed.

Did the producers even see the first movie?

The Hangover was funny. Really funny.

Like Coming to America Funny. Like Animal House funny. Like Blazing Saddles, My Cousin Vinny, Caddyshack kinda funny. Technically, the film was so funny, they could have just re-shot the entire first movie from different angles and it would still make a mint. I still watch it every time it comes on HBO or Showtime.

So it's the same premise as the first film. Impending wedding, one forgotten night of debauchery, someone important goes missing, they spend the day trying to find him while they have to go back and face the by the light a re-hash of their shenanigans. So what? If the using the same basic idea was a film killer, the there would no such thing as a romantic comedy film. Boy and girl can't get along then fall in love. Bruce Willis would still be tending bar, Arnold would just be an old guy at the gym and Steven Segal would be your kid's karate instructor who hits him in the back of the head while you aren't looking, because we used up the idea of the action hero sometime in the mid 70's.

So it's the same?

So what? It will still be funny. I was laughing at the trailer and I knew it was gonna be the same thing.

For an industry that prides itself on turning out familiar fare, think of how many remakes and sequels you've seen in the past few years, now they want to get skittish? Really?

This one, I might actually have to go see. Maybe. I am taking classes this summer.

Barkeep. A Zambucca shake. Yes. No really, that's what I want. Seriously.

A Short...short...story.

Ramblings Post #183
Suddenly it bursts forth. Little bits of inspiration. Bits of mental images to fill in the blank spots that are the stories in progress in my mind, those stories half written, outlined or started and never finished. Little shorts. Little scenes that encapsulate the moment. Poetry, from an age long ago when everything was pure and hope stared me back in the eye every morning instead of leaving a note promising his return.


A Great Evening.

A noisy restaurant, but all the sound has faded away.
An empty wine glass.
A dark whiskey.
Napkins covering plates.
Deep, easy, conversation.
Her smile.

Ahhh...