Do you like walks in the sunset?
Just kidding about the last one. But the ABA is looking for female attorneys of color to participate in its survey about women of color and the law. So sign up.
If you are a male attorney of color who likes walks in the sunset, e-mail me. 
I’m really having to resist those Pedro Martinez feelings….
I also can’t help but feel like this mocks a time-honored act of liberation. Usually a statue that gets knocked down is one that some tryannical dictator put in the middle of town square to celebrate himself and intimidate the little people. It is usually a glorious moment — a “ha, take that Mr. I’m all made of bronze and think I’m so great. I’m not afraid of you anymore.” Would anyone think it cool to replace famous flag raising moments, like Iwo Jima or India’s liberation, with made up, fake flags … sheesh…
But seriously, why build a statue to tear it down? That’s what effigies are for, easy-to-make, stuffed sheets with black magic marker saying who it’s supposed be. No muss, no fuss. What do they do with that statue now?
WHO SAYS POT DOESN’T KILL?
RANDOM THOUGHT #6,324
I caught a bit of that Peter Jennings “beyond the conspiracy” special about JFK assasination last night. Did you know that whole Oliver Stone “to the back and to the left”stuff was made up? “Dramatic License,” I think he called it.
I’ve been citing that whole Kevin Costner speech for years — in middle school, I even had a visual redramatization of it all — Damn you, Oliver Stone!
Next thing you know, I’ll find out that Mel Gibson didn’t really save the Allied troops at Gallipoli by running the message through the battlefield.
“Now let’s see you do it!”
IF YOU PLAN TO WATCH LAST NIGHT’S ER….
Then skip this post! No, I mean it! Read this post after you’ve watched it. Fine, keep reading, just don’t send me your pissed off comments when the episode is all spoiled for you.
Do y’all remember the movie “Hook?” Spielberg, Dustin Hoffman, Mork? OK, well for those of you who don’t –it was an early nineties Peter Pan movie imagining what would happen if Peter Pan grew up and left Neverland. (Basically, Captain Hook gets lonely without his nemesis and then sends goons to kidnap Peter’s kids.) Anyway, one the recurring themes is that Peter Pan had this fight with Captain Hook where Hook was thrown into the water and a Crocodile bit off his hand (and then it swallowed a clock or something, that part I didn’t get).
Anyway, Hook’s totally afraid of this crocodile coming back for the rest him, I assume because the hand tasted so good. He then has the crocodile killed and stuffed, to make sure that it can’t eat anymore of him.
Of course, at the end, through some calamitous twist of fate, the stuffed crocodile, it shaken loose and falls (mouth open, teeth baring) right onto Captain Hook’s surprised body. The jaws snap shut and Hook is swallowed hole. The stuffed croc then burps in satisfaction….
Well, ladies and gentlemen, in last night’s ER, the role of the good Captain was played by none other than the grumpy Dr. Romano, while stepping into the role of the crocodile: a crashing helicopter, come to finish the job of its hand chopping comrade in aviation.
Truly bizarre.
R.I.P. Dr. Romano…
Actually, given the circumstances of his demise and mutiliation, he’s probably had enough of ripping…
Hooray
I’m back! Oh, my beautiful blog, I will never leave you again. I was at a two day legal training conference on Federal Rule of Civil Procedure 23. That’s right people: two days, eight hours each day about a rule. Not just any rule, a civil procedure rule. A Federal Civil Procedure Rule. OK, I’ll stop…mostly because there isn’t much more to say. Although, an awful number of the panelists would begin their talk with the words “now, I could talk about Rule 23 (b)(2)(c) for days and we wouldn’t hit the tip of the iceberg.”
Seriously.
My favorite moment was when one of the audience members — unnamed here for job security reasons — fell asleep, only to be awoken when her coffee cup spilled hot, percolated liquid on her lap. Oh, I mean her or his.
The other thing I learned, besides a boatload about Rule 23 (and believe me I could blog about Rule 23 for…well, for like 2 more seconds before I’m going to have to gouge my own eyes out), is that blogging using dial-up blows.
WHAT IS THE POINT OF HAVING ANY THOUGHTS, IF YOU CAN’T BLOG ABOUT IT?
- Kashei
I *KNOW*!
- Dawn
Apparently, the flipside is also true.
DEPRESSING THOUGHT OF THE MONTH
Every now and then, when I’m at my desk into the wee hours of the morning, proofing documents or wading through a morass of paper searching for the illusive needle in the haystack, I wonder: geez if I slumped over dead, would I want this to be the last thing I do? (A colleague of mine, who I shared this thought with once, quickly responded “as if doing this work weren’t depressing enough, now you’ve got us dying of a heart attack.”)
But, I do wonder how many people can say “if I died working, that’d be ok because I was doing something I loved or that made the world better.” And don’t think it’ll never happen, because it does. These women died recruiting for their employer. Their colleagues had nice words to say about them, so I guess that’s something.
Eh, what do I know? I didn’t want a yearbook picture taken because I thought, for sure, it would inevitably be flashed on the 6 o’clock news alongside the story about my death in a drunk driving accident “just days before her high school graduation.”
EXPRESS DELIVERY
Dear Gray,
Chin up!
I know how hard it is to lose your home state. Screw Arnold, no way is he going to be able to close the budget deficit or govern as well as you could have, had the voters given you a chance. He’s so stupid too; he can’t even pronounce simple English words. I don’t believe the voters didn’t jump all over the scandal that broke in the final weeks before the election.
You can’t second guess yourself about how you used Bill Clinton — spilled milk and all that. Try not to blame yourself too much, you did the best you could. (Those damn Bustamante voters are another story… just kidding its not their fault either.)
You’ll be fine, oh the pity lovin’ you’re gonna get from the wife, ooh boy.
And let out your pantwaists. Believe me, the weight gain is going to happen, you might as well have clothes to wear.
Anyway, take care, if you need anything give me a buzz.
Your friend, Al
P.S. Do not, I repeat, do not grow a beard. The food particles from your depression-driven pig out sessions gets all tangled up in the hairs and it starts to smell after awhile. Plus, it burns like the Dickens when you finally shave it off.
Man stuck in phone, calls someone who cares
I don’t know, but there is a cellphone commercial in here somewhere.