I'm Hatin' It
I haven't eaten food from McDonald's since 1999 (even then, I only ate the french fries, which were apparently soaked in beef juice to make them taste better) and I don't recall their advertising to be so painfully annoying. My how things change...I mean, I get what they're trying to say; Chicken Selects are soooo good that you don't want to share, but wouldn't it make sense to show people fending off real people who are trying to steal their food? What their advertising says to me is not check out all the people who want Chicken Selects, but, instead, check out all of the crazy people with hallucination problems who eat Chicken Selects, or maybe even, that Chicken Selects make you hallucinate. Either way, I'm out.
08 October 2004
07 October 2004
In case you haven't heard already, there's a website called VOTE or NOT that is trying to get people to register to vote before the November elections. The 2000 election was decided by only about 500 votes- This year's election may be just as close, so all our votes matter!To get the word out about registering, VOTE or NOT is offering a $100,000 sweepstakes. They will also give the person who referred thewinner $100,000, so if you sign up through my referral link below, we can both win! http://rd22a4a.VOTEorNOT.org
It's important you sign up now, since the voter registration deadlines are coming up really soon.
It's important you sign up now, since the voter registration deadlines are coming up really soon.
23 August 2004
Guest Blog Entry - Submitted by Raphe G.
Most barbers, at least those who cut men’s hair, seem to have abandoned crude 20th-Century implements like scissors in favor of largely self-operating electric clippers that allow the barber to ascertain your preferred hairstyle in units of Attachment Size (from 1 to 5!) and then just whack away at your head without the need to concern themselves with trifles like uniformity and aesthetic beauty. One might wonder, then, what these people learn at beautician school. Until recently, I assumed that they learned the delicate art of carrying on a boring conversation about the weather while simultaneously operating the clippers, all without slicing the customer’s ear off. Indeed, I’ve heard that the prestigious Sassoon Universities in Milan and Saskatchewan will not issue a Master of Barbarianism degree until the candidate learns to deliver a short monologue in sign language while giving an instructor Haircut #3.
But this weekend I was disabused of my naive assumptions about the general quality of beautician school when I had my hair cut by a typically chatty barber in Berkeley. She had many things to tell me about: her daughter’s recent break up with her boyfriend; the time she moved from Oakland to Albany; and the unjust ticket she received for speeding in some sort of "no speeding" zone, including the intricate and deliberately-paced tale of how she forgot her driver’s license in her pants that morning as she ran out the door. But as she unraveled each of these yarns, this barber stopped the haircut and put the clippers down so that she could make real eye contact with me in the mirror. For long stretches, she was just standing there talking to me. I mean, a drunk orangutan could have given me the same bad haircut in the time it takes to tie your shoes (with a double knot), but it took this lady 45 damn minutes.
Now, I’ve got nothing against friendly people, and I try as hard as the next guy to drum up a little interest in my barbers’ small talk. I come prepared with all kinds of material, like "I hear that" and "you betcha" and "hot enough to fry an egg, that’s for sure." But I felt a bit betrayed the other day. I paid for a bad haircut, not the opportunity to listen to my barber’s problems. Really, she should have paid me for my time, or at least called it even.
Next time I’m going to the orangutan. His stories are bound to be better.
Most barbers, at least those who cut men’s hair, seem to have abandoned crude 20th-Century implements like scissors in favor of largely self-operating electric clippers that allow the barber to ascertain your preferred hairstyle in units of Attachment Size (from 1 to 5!) and then just whack away at your head without the need to concern themselves with trifles like uniformity and aesthetic beauty. One might wonder, then, what these people learn at beautician school. Until recently, I assumed that they learned the delicate art of carrying on a boring conversation about the weather while simultaneously operating the clippers, all without slicing the customer’s ear off. Indeed, I’ve heard that the prestigious Sassoon Universities in Milan and Saskatchewan will not issue a Master of Barbarianism degree until the candidate learns to deliver a short monologue in sign language while giving an instructor Haircut #3.
But this weekend I was disabused of my naive assumptions about the general quality of beautician school when I had my hair cut by a typically chatty barber in Berkeley. She had many things to tell me about: her daughter’s recent break up with her boyfriend; the time she moved from Oakland to Albany; and the unjust ticket she received for speeding in some sort of "no speeding" zone, including the intricate and deliberately-paced tale of how she forgot her driver’s license in her pants that morning as she ran out the door. But as she unraveled each of these yarns, this barber stopped the haircut and put the clippers down so that she could make real eye contact with me in the mirror. For long stretches, she was just standing there talking to me. I mean, a drunk orangutan could have given me the same bad haircut in the time it takes to tie your shoes (with a double knot), but it took this lady 45 damn minutes.
Now, I’ve got nothing against friendly people, and I try as hard as the next guy to drum up a little interest in my barbers’ small talk. I come prepared with all kinds of material, like "I hear that" and "you betcha" and "hot enough to fry an egg, that’s for sure." But I felt a bit betrayed the other day. I paid for a bad haircut, not the opportunity to listen to my barber’s problems. Really, she should have paid me for my time, or at least called it even.
Next time I’m going to the orangutan. His stories are bound to be better.
16 August 2004
Inspiring Confidence
On a recent flight from San Francisco to Chicago, I sat in the row behind the exit row. Because of my close proximity, I was privy to the exit row "briefing."
There were three people in the exit row. In the window seat, a Navy Seal who said to the flight attendant, "if I save your life, can we fly off to some tropical paradise together?" Somewhat surprisingly, she said yes. In the aisle seat was a very non-descript woman who I can only guess was the mother of the kid in the middle seat.
Oh, the kid in the middle seat... He was about 16, old enough to sit in the exit row, but when asked if he would assist in the unlikely event of an emergency, he hesitated. OK, it was more than hesitation. He stared blankly at the flight attendant without saying a word for two whole minutes. She asked again. He said nothing. She went to talk to the people on the other side of the plane, came back and asked again...he stared. He took out the exit row card to see what, exactly, he was being asked to do. The woman in the aisle seat started yelling, "just say yes, say yes." The Navy Seal joked about how it didn't matter because he would save us all (I wondered if that meant that he was extending the invitation to the tropical paradise to everyone whose life he saved). Finally, after close to fifteen minutes, he said yes. I have never wished for a plane not to crash more in my entire life. Never.
Even if you don't really want to do it, just say yes quickly for the sake of everyone else...
On a recent flight from San Francisco to Chicago, I sat in the row behind the exit row. Because of my close proximity, I was privy to the exit row "briefing."
There were three people in the exit row. In the window seat, a Navy Seal who said to the flight attendant, "if I save your life, can we fly off to some tropical paradise together?" Somewhat surprisingly, she said yes. In the aisle seat was a very non-descript woman who I can only guess was the mother of the kid in the middle seat.
Oh, the kid in the middle seat... He was about 16, old enough to sit in the exit row, but when asked if he would assist in the unlikely event of an emergency, he hesitated. OK, it was more than hesitation. He stared blankly at the flight attendant without saying a word for two whole minutes. She asked again. He said nothing. She went to talk to the people on the other side of the plane, came back and asked again...he stared. He took out the exit row card to see what, exactly, he was being asked to do. The woman in the aisle seat started yelling, "just say yes, say yes." The Navy Seal joked about how it didn't matter because he would save us all (I wondered if that meant that he was extending the invitation to the tropical paradise to everyone whose life he saved). Finally, after close to fifteen minutes, he said yes. I have never wished for a plane not to crash more in my entire life. Never.
Even if you don't really want to do it, just say yes quickly for the sake of everyone else...
28 July 2004
So that's why they call them Killer Whales...
Well ladies and gentlemen, it has happened again. Just as Roy Horn was gaining enough strength to meet with the tiger who had it in for him, we animal-lovin' Americans were struck by another devastating occurrence. Unbelievably, another animal kept in captivity and taught by humans to do silly tricks for small pieces of food has attacked his trainer. This time it was a killer whale and it was a shock to us all. I mean, yes, they are called "killer," but how were we to know that if we locked them up, forced them to do stupid tricks, and deprived them of their freedom they would make that name a reality?
Well ladies and gentlemen, it has happened again. Just as Roy Horn was gaining enough strength to meet with the tiger who had it in for him, we animal-lovin' Americans were struck by another devastating occurrence. Unbelievably, another animal kept in captivity and taught by humans to do silly tricks for small pieces of food has attacked his trainer. This time it was a killer whale and it was a shock to us all. I mean, yes, they are called "killer," but how were we to know that if we locked them up, forced them to do stupid tricks, and deprived them of their freedom they would make that name a reality?
25 June 2004
BART
There is one reason (not including my intense phobia of germs and disease or my fear that an earthquake will hit as I am riding through the tube to the East Bay) I don't like riding BART: people who stand obnoxiously and unnecessarily close to me.
I don't sit on BART. Why you ask? Mainly, because those cushiony seats look to me like giant sponges filled with bacteria and, quite possibly, urine. So, I stand. I understand that people have to squeeze in on crowded trains, but what about uncrowded trains? My thought is, if I can feel you breathing on me, and you don't seem to have a good reason to, and I don't know you, I hate you.
This is a warning to that guy who thought it a good idea to invade my space on my way to Berkeley last weekend; next time you might not be so lucky (Note: most people will tell you that I am all talk. This is true.).
There is one reason (not including my intense phobia of germs and disease or my fear that an earthquake will hit as I am riding through the tube to the East Bay) I don't like riding BART: people who stand obnoxiously and unnecessarily close to me.
I don't sit on BART. Why you ask? Mainly, because those cushiony seats look to me like giant sponges filled with bacteria and, quite possibly, urine. So, I stand. I understand that people have to squeeze in on crowded trains, but what about uncrowded trains? My thought is, if I can feel you breathing on me, and you don't seem to have a good reason to, and I don't know you, I hate you.
This is a warning to that guy who thought it a good idea to invade my space on my way to Berkeley last weekend; next time you might not be so lucky (Note: most people will tell you that I am all talk. This is true.).
13 June 2004
Potty Mouth
I should have known I was in trouble when the man in the row in front of me said, "Kasey, please don't say the same thing over and over again" and little Kasey replied, "Why Daddy, why Daddy, why daddy, why?" Kasey talked in a really loud and whiny voice, which I'm sure is normal for a two year old, but is, nonetheless, quite annoying on a crowded airplane. After about three hours, Kasey and his mom went to the bathroom. When they came back, Kasey's mom said to Kasey's dad, "guess who went potty in the toilet?" My guess was Kasey.
Kasey was super psyched. So psyched in fact that he spent almost the entire remaining 2.5 hours on the plane singing songs he created about the potty. The lyrics to my favorite were something like, "potty. potty. kasey used the potty. mommy was there too. potty." It was a pretty magical song, similar to some of Bob Dylan's greatest works. Luckily, as we were making our initial approach, Kasey stopped singing. I think this was because it got in the way of his crying and blood curdling screams. As we touched down at SFO, little Kasey drifted off to sleep (for about five minutes before he remembered how much fun screaming is).
I should have known I was in trouble when the man in the row in front of me said, "Kasey, please don't say the same thing over and over again" and little Kasey replied, "Why Daddy, why Daddy, why daddy, why?" Kasey talked in a really loud and whiny voice, which I'm sure is normal for a two year old, but is, nonetheless, quite annoying on a crowded airplane. After about three hours, Kasey and his mom went to the bathroom. When they came back, Kasey's mom said to Kasey's dad, "guess who went potty in the toilet?" My guess was Kasey.
Kasey was super psyched. So psyched in fact that he spent almost the entire remaining 2.5 hours on the plane singing songs he created about the potty. The lyrics to my favorite were something like, "potty. potty. kasey used the potty. mommy was there too. potty." It was a pretty magical song, similar to some of Bob Dylan's greatest works. Luckily, as we were making our initial approach, Kasey stopped singing. I think this was because it got in the way of his crying and blood curdling screams. As we touched down at SFO, little Kasey drifted off to sleep (for about five minutes before he remembered how much fun screaming is).
11 June 2004
01 June 2004
Tour Dates
You may have heard the buzz on MTV News, and its all true. The Stuff in my Head Blog Author and Creative Mastermind, Renee, is going on tour. Catch her if you can in a city near you:
May 23- May 28 - Hollywood, Florida (SOLD OUT)
June 6 - June 8 - Mahwah, New Jersey (Tickets still available)
June 9 - TBD - New York City (contact us for exact dates)
June 28 - TBD - Cerritos, California
July 19 - July 22 - Denver, Colorado
Aug 2 - Aug 6 - various cities
These are only some of the stops Renee will be making on her Summer '04 concert tour. Contact us to find out if she'll be in your town this summer.
You may have heard the buzz on MTV News, and its all true. The Stuff in my Head Blog Author and Creative Mastermind, Renee, is going on tour. Catch her if you can in a city near you:
May 23- May 28 - Hollywood, Florida (SOLD OUT)
June 6 - June 8 - Mahwah, New Jersey (Tickets still available)
June 9 - TBD - New York City (contact us for exact dates)
June 28 - TBD - Cerritos, California
July 19 - July 22 - Denver, Colorado
Aug 2 - Aug 6 - various cities
These are only some of the stops Renee will be making on her Summer '04 concert tour. Contact us to find out if she'll be in your town this summer.
30 May 2004
Shut Up
So, it wasn't bad enough that I was sitting in the very last row of the plane traveling from Washington D.C. to San Francisco (a five hour flight) and we were expecting turbulence, but my seat mate was determined to be my best friend. He did that staring until we made eye contact thing that instead of being friendly, as I'm sure he intended, ended up being creepy. I tried watching a movie, but when he learned that we were watching the same movie he decided to chat me up about it. I never removed my headphones. Then I tried doing some work. "Whatcha doing," he asked. "Working," I replied. He decided to chat me up about that too. I was still wearing my headphones. I decided to take a short nap, with my headphones on for added security, and as I dozed off he asked me if I was tired.
Nothing stops a plane talker. Not working. Not headphones. Not even snoring. When I arrived at SFO, I had learned that, among other things, the plane talker had begun his travels that morning in Germany and I thought, thank God I didn't have to sit next to him on that flight.
So, it wasn't bad enough that I was sitting in the very last row of the plane traveling from Washington D.C. to San Francisco (a five hour flight) and we were expecting turbulence, but my seat mate was determined to be my best friend. He did that staring until we made eye contact thing that instead of being friendly, as I'm sure he intended, ended up being creepy. I tried watching a movie, but when he learned that we were watching the same movie he decided to chat me up about it. I never removed my headphones. Then I tried doing some work. "Whatcha doing," he asked. "Working," I replied. He decided to chat me up about that too. I was still wearing my headphones. I decided to take a short nap, with my headphones on for added security, and as I dozed off he asked me if I was tired.
Nothing stops a plane talker. Not working. Not headphones. Not even snoring. When I arrived at SFO, I had learned that, among other things, the plane talker had begun his travels that morning in Germany and I thought, thank God I didn't have to sit next to him on that flight.
20 May 2004
The Ride Home
What better way to get home after a long day then by taxi? Foot, train, maybe bike, I'm sure there are others...and here's why.
The taxi driver managed to talk the entire ride home. At one point, he asked me a question about reception and when I began to answer he interrupted me and answered it himself. It started out by him telling me that I looked "fresh." He offered little clarification for that comment, but he did keep on talking. After singing to himself (loudly), he became really focused on one topic...cell phones. "What cell phone company do you have?" "Do you like them?" "I have Sprint and I got this phone (pulls out phone which he proceeds to throw at me as he slams on the breaks) then I called them and told them I lost it and they said they would send me a new phone because I have insurance and then they turned this one off, so now, I've got no phone...bastards." Never mind that had he not lied about losing the phone in the first place he wouldn't be in this predicament. He then went on to explain the difference between cellular providers, "with Metro it goes doot doot doooooot for about 10 seconds, with Sprint its like choo choooo for 3-4 seconds, but with AT&T no doot or choo, you just talk." "So, should I switch to AT&T?" "My phone has a camera with flash, will my new phone?" Oh dear...I felt like I was trapped in a never-ending commercial for cell phones and ADD medication.
Can you hear me now? Good Lord.
What better way to get home after a long day then by taxi? Foot, train, maybe bike, I'm sure there are others...and here's why.
The taxi driver managed to talk the entire ride home. At one point, he asked me a question about reception and when I began to answer he interrupted me and answered it himself. It started out by him telling me that I looked "fresh." He offered little clarification for that comment, but he did keep on talking. After singing to himself (loudly), he became really focused on one topic...cell phones. "What cell phone company do you have?" "Do you like them?" "I have Sprint and I got this phone (pulls out phone which he proceeds to throw at me as he slams on the breaks) then I called them and told them I lost it and they said they would send me a new phone because I have insurance and then they turned this one off, so now, I've got no phone...bastards." Never mind that had he not lied about losing the phone in the first place he wouldn't be in this predicament. He then went on to explain the difference between cellular providers, "with Metro it goes doot doot doooooot for about 10 seconds, with Sprint its like choo choooo for 3-4 seconds, but with AT&T no doot or choo, you just talk." "So, should I switch to AT&T?" "My phone has a camera with flash, will my new phone?" Oh dear...I felt like I was trapped in a never-ending commercial for cell phones and ADD medication.
Can you hear me now? Good Lord.
18 May 2004
Got Milk?
Ok, so this whole low to no carb thing has gotten a bit out of hand. I rolled my eyes when people started telling me that I shouldn't be eating that plain baked potato. I laughed when they introduced low carb doughnuts (I mean, really, if you can't give up doughnuts, don't you think carbs aren't the real issue). This morning, I was left expressionless when I saw an advertisement for low-carb milk. Remember when milk used to do a body good? I do. Of course I still remember when orange juice was good for you. Now, there's a low carb version of that too. Most of the fruits and vegetables that you love are now a no-no. Pretty soon vitamins will be on the bad list too. Next thing ya know, they'll be coming out with oxygen free air and hydrogen free water. When will this craziness end...probably not until someone tries to stop the world from eating bacon...because everyone loves bacon.
Ok, so this whole low to no carb thing has gotten a bit out of hand. I rolled my eyes when people started telling me that I shouldn't be eating that plain baked potato. I laughed when they introduced low carb doughnuts (I mean, really, if you can't give up doughnuts, don't you think carbs aren't the real issue). This morning, I was left expressionless when I saw an advertisement for low-carb milk. Remember when milk used to do a body good? I do. Of course I still remember when orange juice was good for you. Now, there's a low carb version of that too. Most of the fruits and vegetables that you love are now a no-no. Pretty soon vitamins will be on the bad list too. Next thing ya know, they'll be coming out with oxygen free air and hydrogen free water. When will this craziness end...probably not until someone tries to stop the world from eating bacon...because everyone loves bacon.
11 May 2004
Vultures
Many people know that I am deathly terrified of only a few things in this world...clowns and pigeons (I have no idea what I would do if a pigeon dressed as a clown approached me). That said, there are a ton of things that I am mildly afraid of. One of those things is the baggage claim. Now, it's not the rotating device that looks as if it could remove a limb if it chose to that scares me. It's not that frightening buzzer sound that not only alerts you that the man-eating rotating device is beginning its deathly whirl, but also gives you a mild heart attack in the process that keeps me awake at night. And it's not the conveyor belt that whips out several pieces of similar looking luggage onto that horrid man-eating rotating device that gives me goose bumps.
What really scares the crap out of me are the hundreds of people who, unfortunately, all own black garment bags and don't know how to say excuse me. They, without fail, stand near the rear of the pack and when the first Tumi bag rolls out, they dive. No, it's not their's and yes, you now have a slight concussion and 18 bruises.
I can only imagine one thing worse than waiting for your baggage surrounded by vultures...waiting for your baggage surrounded by pigeons dressed as clowns.
Many people know that I am deathly terrified of only a few things in this world...clowns and pigeons (I have no idea what I would do if a pigeon dressed as a clown approached me). That said, there are a ton of things that I am mildly afraid of. One of those things is the baggage claim. Now, it's not the rotating device that looks as if it could remove a limb if it chose to that scares me. It's not that frightening buzzer sound that not only alerts you that the man-eating rotating device is beginning its deathly whirl, but also gives you a mild heart attack in the process that keeps me awake at night. And it's not the conveyor belt that whips out several pieces of similar looking luggage onto that horrid man-eating rotating device that gives me goose bumps.
What really scares the crap out of me are the hundreds of people who, unfortunately, all own black garment bags and don't know how to say excuse me. They, without fail, stand near the rear of the pack and when the first Tumi bag rolls out, they dive. No, it's not their's and yes, you now have a slight concussion and 18 bruises.
I can only imagine one thing worse than waiting for your baggage surrounded by vultures...waiting for your baggage surrounded by pigeons dressed as clowns.
03 May 2004
Roy Who? What Tiger?
What ever happened to Roy Horn? A few months ago we were getting an update a minute. The second he responded to voices, we knew. When he declared that a full recovery was on the way, we were right there with him. But all of that has changed. For all we know, he could be doing the Tango with one of his Tigers in Mexico and we would be none the wiser. Earlier today I stopped by the Siegfried and Roy webpage, but nothing was said about Roy's current status...as a matter of fact I couldn't find anything about the accident that ended it all. Are they trying to hide something? We need to know. What's going on with Roy?
What ever happened to Roy Horn? A few months ago we were getting an update a minute. The second he responded to voices, we knew. When he declared that a full recovery was on the way, we were right there with him. But all of that has changed. For all we know, he could be doing the Tango with one of his Tigers in Mexico and we would be none the wiser. Earlier today I stopped by the Siegfried and Roy webpage, but nothing was said about Roy's current status...as a matter of fact I couldn't find anything about the accident that ended it all. Are they trying to hide something? We need to know. What's going on with Roy?
28 April 2004
CMG
So, I haven't written in a while, but something has been on my mind since well before Easter. It's the creepy mail guy ("CMG"). I'm reminded of it a few times a day...mail time and it really bugs the hell out of me. Maybe its because I'm a horrible impatient person or maybe its because I don't like people standing quietly in my office and staring at me...either way it must be known, the new mail guy has got to go. At first I just thought he was really bad at delivering mail, but now I realize it is so much more. In case you're wondering if your mail guy warrants the initials CMG, check the symptoms below:
1. He insists on talking to you...even if you're on the phone he feels the need to throw in a "g'day" or an "are you eating lunch."
2. He just doesn't know where to put the mail. Apparently, the whole idea of the in-box has not struck him.
3. He stands just inside the door and stares at you until you notice him.
4. He enters your office quietly, so as not to disturb you, but doesn't realize that hovering over you while you try to do work might actually be somewhat disturbing.
5. By the time he finishes one mail run, it's time for the next.
6. He just gives you the hebejebes.
If your mail guy fits this description...I'm sorry.
So, I haven't written in a while, but something has been on my mind since well before Easter. It's the creepy mail guy ("CMG"). I'm reminded of it a few times a day...mail time and it really bugs the hell out of me. Maybe its because I'm a horrible impatient person or maybe its because I don't like people standing quietly in my office and staring at me...either way it must be known, the new mail guy has got to go. At first I just thought he was really bad at delivering mail, but now I realize it is so much more. In case you're wondering if your mail guy warrants the initials CMG, check the symptoms below:
1. He insists on talking to you...even if you're on the phone he feels the need to throw in a "g'day" or an "are you eating lunch."
2. He just doesn't know where to put the mail. Apparently, the whole idea of the in-box has not struck him.
3. He stands just inside the door and stares at you until you notice him.
4. He enters your office quietly, so as not to disturb you, but doesn't realize that hovering over you while you try to do work might actually be somewhat disturbing.
5. By the time he finishes one mail run, it's time for the next.
6. He just gives you the hebejebes.
If your mail guy fits this description...I'm sorry.
11 April 2004
WWJD
On the occasion of Easter I thought I would take a second to talk about how freakin' lazy people are. It's bad enough that we spend more time watching television than reading books, but apparently, we are also incapable of making decisions for ourselves. What Would Jesus Do? What a cop out. It is clear to me that this a poor attempt to pass the blame for our bad decisions on to the Lord. Is Jesus asking us what we would do? No. So, maybe we should suck it up and make our own damn decisions.
Besides, I'm sure half the time Jesus would say, "What would I do? I wouldn't have gotten myself into this pickle in the first place."
On the occasion of Easter I thought I would take a second to talk about how freakin' lazy people are. It's bad enough that we spend more time watching television than reading books, but apparently, we are also incapable of making decisions for ourselves. What Would Jesus Do? What a cop out. It is clear to me that this a poor attempt to pass the blame for our bad decisions on to the Lord. Is Jesus asking us what we would do? No. So, maybe we should suck it up and make our own damn decisions.
Besides, I'm sure half the time Jesus would say, "What would I do? I wouldn't have gotten myself into this pickle in the first place."
07 April 2004
The Mind of the Fifth Grader
Today I spoke to a classroom of excited fifth graders about being a lawyer. I had an entire presentation planned, but two minutes in, after my spiel on my name and background, a hand shot into the air. "Have you ever been on television?" "Are you R, Kelly's lawyer? Michael Jackson? Our teacher's" "What happens if when you swear to tell the truth you cross your fingers behind your back?" What if you tell on your friends in court, can they kill you?" I had not anticipated this level of student involvement. Questions ranged from the mundane "how old were you when you became a lawyer" to the weird "what steps does a person have to take to get emancipated," to the downright scary, "how long would a person have to go to jail for stabbing someone if they already had two strikes...just wondering." Before I knew it, my hour was up and I walked away sure of only one thing, I had not taught those kids a damn thing about being a lawyer.
********
Office Crime Blotter II
Well, the office hoodlum has struck again. Mr. or Ms. Hoodlum, you might think you're sneaky spacing out your crimes several months apart, but I, my friend, am on to you...and so is Frank K, the victim. Today Frank entered his office only to find that approximately five dollars in quarters had been removed from his quarter cup. We have not had a chance to dust for fingerprints and Frank has not yet ruined the crime scene, so a full investigation will take place. In the meantime, someone is running around with enough quarters to do laundry for a week...or at least once this week. If you see anyone with extremely clean clothing and a jingle in their pocket, please let me know.
Today I spoke to a classroom of excited fifth graders about being a lawyer. I had an entire presentation planned, but two minutes in, after my spiel on my name and background, a hand shot into the air. "Have you ever been on television?" "Are you R, Kelly's lawyer? Michael Jackson? Our teacher's" "What happens if when you swear to tell the truth you cross your fingers behind your back?" What if you tell on your friends in court, can they kill you?" I had not anticipated this level of student involvement. Questions ranged from the mundane "how old were you when you became a lawyer" to the weird "what steps does a person have to take to get emancipated," to the downright scary, "how long would a person have to go to jail for stabbing someone if they already had two strikes...just wondering." Before I knew it, my hour was up and I walked away sure of only one thing, I had not taught those kids a damn thing about being a lawyer.
********
Office Crime Blotter II
Well, the office hoodlum has struck again. Mr. or Ms. Hoodlum, you might think you're sneaky spacing out your crimes several months apart, but I, my friend, am on to you...and so is Frank K, the victim. Today Frank entered his office only to find that approximately five dollars in quarters had been removed from his quarter cup. We have not had a chance to dust for fingerprints and Frank has not yet ruined the crime scene, so a full investigation will take place. In the meantime, someone is running around with enough quarters to do laundry for a week...or at least once this week. If you see anyone with extremely clean clothing and a jingle in their pocket, please let me know.
05 April 2004
Disbarment looms for Ineptitude
Last week, I received my monthly edition of the California Bar Journal. At the top of this month’s publication was a small box that said, “Inside this month: Disbarment looms for ineptitude.” I love the Discipline section. Its like the crime blotter for lawyers. The lead discipline story was about a man said to have “significantly harmed his clients and the public” who was charged with 34 counts of misconduct. Wow. You’ve got to be really bad...luckily, he can and is still practicing…in Indiana.
One thing that gets me is that when you are suspended, they always require you take the MPRE before they will lift the suspension. If I recall correctly, the secret to passing the MPRE has nothing to do with being moral, but everything to do with knowing what you can get away with. And maybe that’s what we’re trying to teach them; know the line, walk the line, just don’t cross the line, but if you do cross the line, go practice in Indiana.
Last week, I received my monthly edition of the California Bar Journal. At the top of this month’s publication was a small box that said, “Inside this month: Disbarment looms for ineptitude.” I love the Discipline section. Its like the crime blotter for lawyers. The lead discipline story was about a man said to have “significantly harmed his clients and the public” who was charged with 34 counts of misconduct. Wow. You’ve got to be really bad...luckily, he can and is still practicing…in Indiana.
One thing that gets me is that when you are suspended, they always require you take the MPRE before they will lift the suspension. If I recall correctly, the secret to passing the MPRE has nothing to do with being moral, but everything to do with knowing what you can get away with. And maybe that’s what we’re trying to teach them; know the line, walk the line, just don’t cross the line, but if you do cross the line, go practice in Indiana.
04 April 2004
Sidewalk Sale - Tips for getting good deals
After my sidewalk sale today, I decided to pass on some tips for the potential sidewalk/yard/garage sale customer. These tips are not guaranteed to work, but, in my limited experience, following them can only help you...
Rule # 1 - Dude, be flexible.
The sale was scheduled to begin at 10:00 in the morning. At a little before 10, which was really 9 thanks to Daylight Savings Time, I began to set up. I had just begun bringing down the merchandise, when two very cranky and very old men approached. One says, "it's 10, where's the stuff?" I reply, "I'm just setting up." He responds, "wasn't it supposed to start at 10." While it was supposed to start at 10, I figured 5 minutes wouldn't kill anyone. Boy, was I wrong. After perusing and offering $0.50 for a working toaster over, the two old men left with a third old man, whom they met at my sale, in the third guy's minivan...they were going to find other sales...presumably sales with toaster ovens for fifty cents. I can only hope, for their sakes, that they started on time.
Rule # 2 - Don't say freaky things.
It was a crappy day, so I spent a lot of time sitting in a chair reading. All of a sudden a man approached and said, "Nothing but the chirps of the birds and the occasional pitter-patter of footsteps, makes this a good day for a read. Are you selling any records?" Uh...no.
Rule # 3 - Don't keep driving by as if you are a stalker
Remember the old guy with the minivan? Well, he drove buy approximately 10 times. I'm not sure what he was looking for, but he wasn't finding it...perhaps he thought I was saving the good stuff for later, maybe he was lost...most definitely, he was creepy.
Rule #4 - This ain't a used car lot
If someone is selling a working window fan for $4 when it would cost you upwards of $25 to buy a new one in the store, don't haggle them. Just pay the stinkin' $4. I'm not saying I'm not willing to make a deal, but be reasonable, cheapskate.
Hopefully, these tips will help you edge out the competition and take home the cheapest crap there is. Good luck!
After my sidewalk sale today, I decided to pass on some tips for the potential sidewalk/yard/garage sale customer. These tips are not guaranteed to work, but, in my limited experience, following them can only help you...
Rule # 1 - Dude, be flexible.
The sale was scheduled to begin at 10:00 in the morning. At a little before 10, which was really 9 thanks to Daylight Savings Time, I began to set up. I had just begun bringing down the merchandise, when two very cranky and very old men approached. One says, "it's 10, where's the stuff?" I reply, "I'm just setting up." He responds, "wasn't it supposed to start at 10." While it was supposed to start at 10, I figured 5 minutes wouldn't kill anyone. Boy, was I wrong. After perusing and offering $0.50 for a working toaster over, the two old men left with a third old man, whom they met at my sale, in the third guy's minivan...they were going to find other sales...presumably sales with toaster ovens for fifty cents. I can only hope, for their sakes, that they started on time.
Rule # 2 - Don't say freaky things.
It was a crappy day, so I spent a lot of time sitting in a chair reading. All of a sudden a man approached and said, "Nothing but the chirps of the birds and the occasional pitter-patter of footsteps, makes this a good day for a read. Are you selling any records?" Uh...no.
Rule # 3 - Don't keep driving by as if you are a stalker
Remember the old guy with the minivan? Well, he drove buy approximately 10 times. I'm not sure what he was looking for, but he wasn't finding it...perhaps he thought I was saving the good stuff for later, maybe he was lost...most definitely, he was creepy.
Rule #4 - This ain't a used car lot
If someone is selling a working window fan for $4 when it would cost you upwards of $25 to buy a new one in the store, don't haggle them. Just pay the stinkin' $4. I'm not saying I'm not willing to make a deal, but be reasonable, cheapskate.
Hopefully, these tips will help you edge out the competition and take home the cheapest crap there is. Good luck!
01 April 2004
Just Sit Down Already
For the past couple of days there has been a new woman in the office. I don't know her name. I don't know anything about her except that, apparently, she can't keep still. I'm not saying that people have to sit at their desks and work, work, work, but the amount of travel this woman does is amazing. You'd think she was training to walk a marathon and you'd also think that her training involved several very short walks. Yesterday, she walked past my office approximately 50 times (this estimate separates each leg of the trip). Today, keep in mind that it is only 11:29, she has walked past at least 10 times.
Where is she going? Why can't she sit down for more than two minutes? Why must she keep passing my office? Doesn't all of this walking tire her out? How can she get any work done when she is constantly up for a stroll? Why doesn't she get a good pair of walking shoes?
For the past couple of days there has been a new woman in the office. I don't know her name. I don't know anything about her except that, apparently, she can't keep still. I'm not saying that people have to sit at their desks and work, work, work, but the amount of travel this woman does is amazing. You'd think she was training to walk a marathon and you'd also think that her training involved several very short walks. Yesterday, she walked past my office approximately 50 times (this estimate separates each leg of the trip). Today, keep in mind that it is only 11:29, she has walked past at least 10 times.
Where is she going? Why can't she sit down for more than two minutes? Why must she keep passing my office? Doesn't all of this walking tire her out? How can she get any work done when she is constantly up for a stroll? Why doesn't she get a good pair of walking shoes?
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