Justice

My first initial appearance on behalf of the Winnebago District Attorney's office will go something like this:

Cole Ruby on behalf of the State, your honor. Mr. X has been charged with hunting animals from an aircraft, in violation of Wisconsin Statute Section 114.10. In light of the seriousness of the offense, the fact that he has access to air transportation, and the fact that he will doubtlessly be armed while flying, the State requests a $3.5 billion signature bond, and that he be released only on the conditions that he dresses up like the Quaker Oats guy in public, carries a large boombox on his shoulder which plays only “Nookie” by Limp Bizkit, and cannot use any words with the letters T, Q, or I in his speech. If he violates any of these conditions, the State demands that he be placed in an airtight bubble and pushed down a large hill.

God bless the American justice system.

Insight

Thank you, *****. What we really needed at that moment was for someone to come in and restate exactly what the professor just said while attempting to make it sound like an original and insightful observation, you fucking retard. If only you had a collar to flip up right now to punctuate this historic moment in douchebaggery.

(Name edited to protect the douchebag)

The Brilliance of Advertising

I just saw a fantastic commercial on a show about the most downloaded videos. It's a guy and his kid walking around the grocery store. The kid throws a bag of candy in the shopping cart, and the guy puts it back on the shelf. The kid then throws it back in the cart, but the dad takes it out again. Then the kid starts SCREAMING at the top of his lungs. And I mean visceral, horrible screaming. The dad stands there, stoic, trying to ignore the kid.

The show then intones that this isn't a commercial about candy, and asks the viewer what it's about. The kid continues screaming in the background, running around the store, throwing things from the shelves onto the floor, just being an awful pain in the ass. The dad continues standing there, growing more and more perturbed. The show asks is this a commercial for aspirin? For something else child care related?

Nope. The commercial's message flashes on the screen: "USE CONDOMS."

Brilliant!

Clearly We're All Just a Bunch of Sexists

With all due respect to Andy, my Contracts II book is taking the sexism cake this week. (Taking it from a feeble woman who shouldn't be allowed to have cake? Yes!!) So we read this case from 1928 where someone contracted to buy land, and his wife wanted to include a provision to remove this crappy building on the land, and the sellers orally agreed to remove it. They made the contract, then never removed the building. She took it to court and lost. Then a note after the case contemplates whether this was a sexist decision because maybe the judges thought the men made the contract and the woman's concern was just aesthetic. Then the note asks whether this note itself is sexist for assuming the woman wasn't a capable business woman. Then it asks whether the reader is sexist for having read the sexist case, and the subsequently sexist note. And then it asks whether the people that make this book are sexist, because the pages were printed on paper, which comes from trees, which may have been cut down from forests of countries which oppress women. And then it asks whether the women are sexist because perhaps these trees are actually women. And that's where I lose all faith in humanity, all over again.

Ohne!

This one is courtesy of John Ohnesorge. Adrianna was asking him a question, and either he didn't quite understand what she meant, or it just didn't make sense. So Ohnesorge said "How does this work in your logic?" And while she was thinking of a response, Ohnesorge says "And I'm using the term "logic" loosely..."

Snap!

Mmm....donuts

You Are a Glazed Donut

Okay, you know that you're plain - and you're cool with that. You prefer not to let anything distract from your sweetness. Your appeal is understated yet universal. Everyone digs you. And in a pinch, you'll probably get eaten.

What Donut Are You?

Fair enough. But I don't know how to react to the fact that I'm going to get eaten. I suppose it was bound to happen eventually...

The Quest

Yestermorrow I heard tales of a mighty blizzard approaching from the north, a great snowfall soon to be descending on this great city in hordes of ashen white. Vex me this did not, for am I not a man? Have I not conquered the state of nature, the realms of man and beast? Blithely I scoffed at any impending peril, and went about my way, quite unperturbed.

And as the radiant day transformed into tempestuous night, the shadow fell upon us, and arrived this fabled squall, in full force. "What foul sorcery is this?" I exclaimed aloud. My journey home from the damnable school of law now seemed treacherous, but my valor never wavered; onward I traveled, making haste to return to my domain, and pass the evening hours in the comfort and security of my living quarters. In the depths of my soul, I knew I must venture back from whence I came, and that another expedition into such calamitous conditions might very well spell the end of my days. Perhaps, I mused, some power I have not forseen will arise and send this contemptible gale back into the abyss. Perhaps tranquility will once again return to my kingdom.

But lo, it was not to be. The morning star did not rise, and the blizzard's vice grip o'er the city strengthened all the more. A pallid veil fell upon the realm, and a shadow of trepidation cast upon my heart. I had failed to heed the portents, and a time of reckoning was now at hand. Return I must to the accursed school of law, but at what cost? My very life in the bargain?

Steeling my resolve, I turned around to face my home once more. Fare thee well, my humble abode, for I may never again lay eyes upon your welcoming hearth. Onward, then, I did embark, buffetted on all sides by the falling snow. The journey was long, and precarious indeed, but perseverance carried the day. Onward and onward I voyaged against the unrelenting tempest, until I finally said fuck it, all we have today is a speaker, then Legal Process. I'm not going to listen to either one. Screw you guys, I'm going home.

Thus, the die was cast, and homeward bound was I. And though I never reached my chosen destination, scribes will yet look back upon this day, and with grandeur most befitting proclaim, "He, a man of limited stature but boundless fortitude, accosted the whirlwind, this indomitable force of nature, and emerged, alive and victorious, barely."

Validation

I just had one of those moments that valid your entire existence. You know the ones I’m talking about. For example, I had gone through school as the guy who knew all of the presidents, all the way back to kindergarten. If there was any presidential trivia going on, everybody knew to ask me, because I was the 'presidents guy.' Then in senior year, our Academic Bowl added a Presidents category. They gave us a study packet, which I briefly looked at the first page, then ignored it, because I knew the presidents, dammit. Then the competition came, and the questions were really difficult. Then I realized they were straight out of the stupid study packet they gave us. At that point I realized that everybody in the competition who read that packet had a huge leg up on me. Still, when they announced the winners, I had taken first place, and by a fairly decent margin, too. And in that moment, it felt like my entire life had been validated, and there are few moments in life as satisfying as that.

So, my life validating moment of the day. I was playing this game Reversi in the library (honestly, what else would I be doing in the library?), which I play quite a bit. There’s 64 stones that get placed on a board, and the goal is to get more stones in your color, simply put. So you usually play right up until the end, but some people quit the game as soon as they realize they’re going to lose, thereby denying victory to their opponent. I can’t stand this, because the game is all strategy – if your opponent uses a superior strategy, at least pay them off. That way you can learn from it, learn how to avoid it. There’s also a little used feature where you can concede the game, and at least your opponent gets the victory. I don’t like this either, because if you’re going to lose, go down swinging is my theory.

Well, you can also see the nationality of the person you’re playing against, which makes it slightly more interesting. So today I played a few games, then played one against a French guy. Halfway into the game it became clear that I was going to win.

Sure enough, Frenchie surrendered.

Not as fulfilling as certain other moments in life, but this one still made me happy.

VD

I want to congratulate everyone on making it through another round of VD. Personally I'd prefer not to face VD again next year, but I've got a feeling that it won't go away that easily.

That's Me In The Corner

A friend told me the other night that getting drunk is an incredibly liberating experience, and something I really have to do some time. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I’m missing out. But then again…

So clearly I’m in the minority here, but hear me out. Most of you already know that I have never been drunk before. 23 years old, living in Madison, where people drink ‘til they fall off balconies and die (not making light of it, but it’s true), and attending law school, where every school function has kegs, shots get handed out with journal packets, and a meeting of six people for Law Revue is accompanied by 54 cans of beer. And though I may drink in moderation occasionally, I cling tightly to my sobriety. Why? Well, that’s were it gets complicated.

Let me start by saying I’m not looking at this as a right or wrong issue. I’m all for people drinking, because it adds excitement and entertainment to every evening. It’s a collegial thing; everyone can do it, everyone has a good time. When people drink with gusto, we never know how the night will turn out, and I love that. Still, I don’t partake in the drinking personally, although all of my friends from home and all of my college friends do. Although they always encourage me to drink, none of them judge me for refusing, and I’m grateful for that. Not surprisingly, I’ve heard the same things since my junior year in high school – “Ruby, you’re getting drunk with us.” “We’re gonna get you wasted at your graduation party.” “You’re gonna be drunk off your ass for your 21st birthday.” “Everybody gets hammered on New Years.” “You at least have to get drunk on spring break.” But so far, it hasn’t happened.

I know full well this might make me seem like a boring person, or at least not as much fun as most. Maybe not to those that know me, but certainly to those who’ve just met me. It’s possible I make less friends this way, and equally possible I meet less girls this way. I’ve decided to live with that; as far as I’m concerned, anyone who decides I can’t be a cool person because I don’t get drunk doesn’t deserve to know me anyway.

There’s still the question of why – why if I’m not opposed to drinking, why if I see the many benefits it has to offer, why if I enjoy hanging around people that drink – why won’t I do it myself?

I suppose the most honest answer I can give is control. The friend posing the initial question to me guessed that answer correctly. I’ve seen what happens – many, many, many experiences with what happens. I don’t want to be the guy that can’t walk at the end of the night. I don’t want to be the guy that throws up on someone’s bed. I don’t want to be the guy that shoots part of the evening for everyone else because somebody has to stay and make sure I’m okay, or at least cart me home. I don’t want to hook up with some random chick. I don’t want to get into my car and not be able to see the road when its 3 in the morning and I’m nowhere near home. And everybody who was there when I received that advice knows how that person’s night ended – sick in the bathroom for over an hour and a half. Again, not making light of it, but that’s what happened.

I don’t want to do things drunk that I would never want to do while sober. Call them mistakes, or not. A lot of the time I suppose we shouldn’t look at them as mistakes, more like something happened accidentally as a result of having a good time, and that’s part of life. But there are bigger mistakes I would never want to make. For instance, toward the end of my relationship with my ex, she got drunk for the first time and cheated on me. To put this in context for her, I was the love of her life. At that time, virtually everything else in her life had fallen apart completely. No job, no car, no money, dropped out of school, few friends left, fighting constantly with her parents - and I was the one good thing keeping her together. So one night I was really sick and I didn’t want to go out, but she still did. So she went out, and this happened. To be honest, I was glad that it happened, because I had wanted out of the relationship for several months at that point, but I still cared for her as a person, and I felt obligated…you know how that goes. She didn’t know we weren’t going to last, but she made it so I couldn’t possibly have stayed with her. And after that, her life self-destructed, which I heard about in an increasingly distressing series of phone calls over several months. The bottom line is, she did something while drunk that she would never, ever have done if sober. That’s the type of thing that I’d really like to avoid.

So I feel okay with not taking the advice. I like being around my friends while they’re drinking, whether I have a couple or not. I’ve been buzzing before, and that makes the evening plenty exciting for me. So I’m going to enjoy myself without losing control, and when one of my friends has a great time and a few too many, I’m happy for them. In the end, I like being the guy that will check on the friend that’s had a few too many. I like being the guy that can always drive us when we need to get somewhere. I like being the guy that helps the girl stand up and puts the jacket on her to keep her warm while her friend comes to pick her up. I even like being the guy that will stay out long past the time I’d rather be sleeping to make sure someone gets home okay.

I’m not saying I’ll never get drunk. There’s a fair chance I could at any time, because I still drink on occasion, and that’s the way that goes. But in the mean time, if you see me conspicuously not getting drunk, know that I have my reasons.

Think of the pow-ah!!

For those of you who don’t know, I will be working as an intern at the Winnebago County District Attorney’s office this summer. As such, I’ll be appearing in court on behalf of the state, essentially, and I will be able to make charging decisions, argue jury trials, and make deals with defendants. So my Prosecution Functions professor Ben Kempinen told us that we might face situations where we’ll be authorized to make a deal with a defendant, but their attorney might first suggest something higher, and we might ask the prosecutor what to do, and they will tell us to do what we think is right. Kempinen says that prosecutors have virtually unlimited power. I’m coming to this realization now, seriously - - I’ll be wielding the power of the state. Not, you know, a lot, but damn…

I think Cartman said it best in the newest South Park episode –
(in melodramatic German accent) “Think of the pow-ah!”

Respect my authoritae!

Glory, visually

Dos Ochos vs. two men of extreme power. You can see how heavy these suckers are by the pained expressions on our faces.

This is an update to the story contained here

Please Stop Actively Trying To Make Me Hate You

It has come to my attention that hating everyone in the world is not the best way to go through life. Yet I find it hard to quell my overwhelming enmity toward the populace at large when so many people can’t even manage to conduct themselves with even the most basic common decency. The most recent target of my animosity is the idiots who feel compelled to pick their nose and wipe the product on the wall in front of the urinals in the 2nd floor bathroom of the Law Building. Seriously, what in the fuck is wrong with you guys? I mean, I understand that sometimes there are certain elements in the nasal passage that need to be removed. But putting them on display for all to see in the bathroom while we’re trying to conduct our business? We’re all adults here, and as inhabitants of the law building, one would assume we’ve moved far beyond this type of display of juvenility. Clearly I am wrong, judging by the proud display of the green and slimy.

Then there are the people at my apartment building who feel the need to scratch words into the elevator doors. This happens so often that the doors get repainted at least once a month. Just once I’d like to be able to ride the elevator to or from my apartment without being greeted by some illegible cursing or the name of the latest troglodyte that learned how to spell. For instance, the doors were just repainted this week, and they went about a day intact, before I found the words “Kill Traci” in giant letters accompanying me on my ride down this morning. Now, even assuming for the moment that Traci deserves such a death sentence, is this the appropriate forum to discuss it? Is there any point to doing that, other than the momentary immortalization of your idiotic inner monologue?

Who else can we look to here, the ones that are really pushing me toward the edge…. How about the people who can’t hold a door for anyone, even those directly behind them with their arms full? How about the ones who randomly smash in the mirrors or windows of someone’s car? How about the ones that create computer viruses, just for the sake of fucking up other people’s property? How about Big Chief?

Please, just try to use some common decency. That’s all I’m asking.

Day Tripper

I've finally gotten enough ambition to load the pictures from my recent Colorado trip into my computer. There I visited my good friend Caitlin, and spent four days with her and her friends. Among other things, we went snowboarding, toured downtown Denver, and watched Wedding Crashers. It was a phenomenal trip, and here are some choice moments.


The one on the right is Caitlin, whom I adore, and the reason I went to Colorado. I think the one on the left was some homeless guy who wandered into the photo.


This was the mountain I became a bad-ass snowboarder on (or nearby, anyway). In keeping with tradition, at the end of the day I detonated an explosive charge at the top and snowboarded my way down while outrunning an avalanche.


A minivan, you ask? Make no mistake, this is no mere minivan - it is a spaceship. It is the most advanced piece of technology I've ever seen, we rented it from NASA to use on the ski trip.


This is the spaceship's console. I'm not kidding. All of the controls were located in the center like this, which was pretty cool. The radio even told us which band and song were playing. And the button in the center below the AC is for turning on the rocket booster.


Denver's capitol building, which is clearly not as cool as ours.


This is a giant blue polar bear that rampaged through downtown Denver.


This is me valiantly taking on the killer polar bear.


Ill behavior on the train through Denver


Us again.

Glory

That's right - TWO. I ate two Ochos last night. We will soon see whether the eternal glory of accomplishing such a feat will outweigh the significant health risks.

Dirty, Stinking, Filthy Hippie Solidarity

Now that February is upon us, WISPIRG is out recruiting. If you don’t know who they are, it’s the Wisconsin Public Interest…Retarded Goddamnedhippies or something. And I should know, considering I worked for them for one week (six entire days, count ‘em) before getting fired for not raising enough money to help the environment.

At this point you may have any number of valid questions running wild right now – for starters, “Why in the hell?” Okay, so it was mostly just because I got lazy in the application process for law firms for last summer. For some reason, I seem to take a personal affront to the entire idea of applying for a job, as though suddenly I’m required to valid my entire existence to these bastards for a job I don’t really want. I’ve kinda always had this streak in my life where the things I really want tend to work out come to me, and everything works out the way I want. So laziness was clearly a part of why I ended up with that job. But there was also a bit of “Let’s do something good for the earth and get paid” involved in the thought process. For someone whose always been political and intellectual (I swear), I’ve never really gotten involved in anything issue-wise before. It was always like I’ll do that when I get older, then I got older and I was still doing nothing. So it was a step for me.

Of course, with WISPIRG, they assume you care about the environment, in more than a vague “I’d prefer it if we didn’t kill all plants and animals” kind of way. And I was lacking in that area, but I assumed I could fake it. And I did, pretty well. The job required us to go door-to-door, giving people a little spiel about what we’re doing for the environment and why they should contribute money. I had down exactly what I was supposed to say, I said it clearly and persuasively, and I actually enjoyed getting out and talking to people. I didn’t care for the feeling that I was begging people for money, but I pushed that aside and did it anyway.

However, the problem was, I wasn’t a dirty, stinking, filthy hippie. It didn’t take long for me to realize that I could never be successful in that job because there’s a certain dirty, stinking, filthy hippie solidarity that just can’t be duplicated through feigned enthusiasm and polished delivery. Every time I approached a door, I got treated with kindness and respect, but they wouldn’t give me a dime. Even the ones that really cared about the environment. I looked around the office at all the other canvassers, and I noticed the only ones who were good at raising money were dirty, stinking, filthy hippies. The thing that killed me was, most of them were terrible at interpersonal communication – they spoke really quietly, mumbled unintelligibly, forgot their words, and never made eye contact, apparently allowing their overwhelming stench that comes from respecting mother nature too much to ever take a goddamned shower speak for them. Oh yes, these were the rainmakers.

Am I bitter? Eh. I didn’t like getting fired, or having to spend the next four weeks applying to every crappy job that was available, which was rather demoralizing. But then I found a passable job, and then a job at a law firm fell into my lap, and all was right with the world again.

The moral of the story? I fucking hate hippies.

United States of Norris

Kaplan just brought up an interesting concept (yeah I was listening, shut up) – what if the US decided to hold another constitutional convention – who would we want to be delegates? Do we even have statesmen anymore?
All I can think of is Chuck Norris. As they say, the good Chuck, he giveth, and the good Chuck taketh away. You want free speech? If you can express yourself while withstanding a barrage of roundhouse kicks, you’re entitled to speak your mind. You also have the right to remain silent, the right to remain unconscious and comatose, and you have the right bear arms, if you can take the bear one on one in a fight to the death. All hail the new Chuckstitution!

Hella-sweet

This is my South Park persona - I believe they captured my hair perfectly. I was a little disappointed they didn't have my cash money chain or gangsta ring, but the cross works too. And they even had the sword I tend to carry. Honestly, this is tits.
Chronic