Date with Destiny

Upon venturing forth to Wendys yesterday, I encountered a sign bearing a portrait of the next great Sandwhich I must acquaint myself with 'ere too long: The Baconator. Now, this Baconator (or "Nator," as its oft referred) contains two beef patties, two slices of cheese, SIX slices of bacon, what appears to be mayonnaise, and a sesame seed bun.

But ho - you may say Vice, ye of the puny stomach and terrible chest pains, how can you expect to tame such a behemoth? 'Tis true, my powers of burger rangling have diminished greatly from my youth, when I regularly conquered Monster Burgers and Ultimate Bacon Double Cheeseburgers with ease. Now I oft recoil from such a feat, as even ruminating upon a burger of this stature can render my pitiful stomach into a quivering, useless wretch.

But to this I say "No more." I shan't cower from the Baconator; this is my solemn vow. And, when the day is passed, and the Baconator is no more, all who witnessed this feat shall say, "Behold, there goes a man in severe chest pain. Alas, he should have listened to reason, and gotten the 5 piece chicken nuggets and small fries."

By the Seat of My Ass

Here you go - Vice's tips to prepare for a successful court hearing:

1. Incorrectly assume that the date of the hearing is two days from now, rather than today

2. Put on some shorts and a t-shirt, wander up to the school to do a little preparation

3. Before you can start preparing, get a phone call from your supervising attorney asking if you're going to show up for the hearing, which starts pretty much right now

4. Grab the case files, sprint from the school to your car

5. Speed over to your apartment, and haphazardly throw on a suit and tie

6. Run over to the courthouse and head up to the floor, now dripping with sweat

7. WIN THE HEARING, in total badass fashion.

Newswhore

I could never lower myself to work in broadcast journalism. Know why? I couldn't ever be successful at it. People would come at me with stories, and I'd say no -- we're not covering that. That's not news. Of course, no one would watch my show, because I wouldn't cover the things that most people want to read.

Case in point - Paris Hilton gets out of jail today. I know this because CNN was on at the SERF while I was running yesterday. They advertised today as "Paris's Day of Freedom!!!" I'm not kidding - I saw the headline and thought there would be two exclamation points to convey just how exciting it was -- turns out I underestimated CNN. So Paris gets out of jail after serving her relatively innocuous sentence. Now she's free, and every single news source in the US will be clamouring outside of the jailhouse doors to cover this. They've already fought over who will have her first exclusive interview upon release, and that (dubious) honor goes to Larry King.

Judging by the news coverage, you'd think she was fuckin' Nelson Mandela, finally getting out of prison after the end of apartheid. But no -- she's just a dilitante of reality TV and amateur porn fame. (And, of course, Smashing Pumpkins single cover fame.)

I don't get it. I just don't get it. How is this news? How is this newsworthy? Say what you will about bad things happening to bad people, but I can't see why on earth I (or anyone else) should possibly care about this.

But we do. Clearly we do, otherwise the news wouldn't cover it, because it wouldn't be profitable. So the question is, whose fault is that?

Pop Quiz, Hotshot

What was the weirdest thing I saw yesterday?

(a) Old man doing what looked like jumping jacks on Regent St. yesterday, although he was barely moving his legs, and appeared to be doing them less for exercise purposes and more for "I don't remember my own name or where I am, dear God somebody help me" purposes

(b) The ambiguously gendered figure walking down the Square wearing purple pants, neon green socks, and a blue and white polka dot shirt

(c) The drunken girl that nearly stumbled to the floor on her way to the elevator of the courthouse, then incoherently slurred which floor she wanted to get off at and laughed like it was the funniest thing ever

Answer: Probably (a), although (c) was probably the stupidest. Seriously people, going drunk to court never ends well.

Look Out Below...

Your old pal Vice has a State Bar number, bitches!

I shall not reveal it here, for the dark power contained within those seven digits would blind even the most malevolent eyes. Soon will be the day the minstrels sing of this number, which will go down in infamy as "The number that would be Mr. Vice's State Bar number, bitches!"

Milestones

Tomorrow I get sworn in. Know what that means? It means that when people ask what I do, I can say "I'm an attorney" as opposed to "I'm a law student." That's pretty badass.

Although, the next question, "Where do you work?" is still giving me some problems.

The Glory of Stupidity

As far as satisfying moments go, there just isn't one quite like when you do something you know is stupid and it turns out beautifully. I'm talking about when you make a plan, realize that its a really terrible idea that could go wrong in hundreds of ways, then implement it nonetheless. It's kind of a "Wow...for some reason, this isn't going nearly as bad as I expected it to. I am awesome!" type of feeling.

Today I had one of those moments. I was cleaning out my old apartment, transporting the few things I have worth saving to a storage shed, when I came up against the futon. The decision had been made to keep the futon and put it in the office/guest bedroom of our new apartment. The problem for me was a) taking the frame apart, as I'm not exactly a handy man, or particulary handy, and b) transporting it to the storage shed with my 2001 Ford Escort. At my apartment I have one (1) screwdriver with several different attachments. I have zero (0) wrenches. Beyond that, I have a futon machete, if worse comes to worse. There are other tools at my disposal as well, as (oddly enough) my girl owns a pretty tricked out tool set. She's even got saws and shit. She doesn't really use them much, but still, it's kinda hot.

Anyway, I initially planned to take the futon apart, and hope the pieces (some approximately 6 feet long) would fit inside my little car. I don't know anyone within 90 miles of here who owns a pickup truck or van that could lend assistance, so that's out. So I look at the futon's frame, think about how I put it together in the first place, get frustrated and impatient because it didn't disassemble itself under the heat of my angry glare.

Then a thought occurred to me - maybe I could just drag the whole frame down, still assembled, and stick it to the roof of my car. Monumentally stupid idea. What happens when it slips out of my makeshift ropes and falls off mid-transport, then either a) gets run over by another car and smashed up, or b) gets run over by another car, gets smashed up, and causes an accident that is entirely my fault. Sounds like a winner to me. I found a few pieces of rope and extension cords, and hauled the bitch downstairs. I was able to lift it up and set it on the roof without a problem. I tied it down through the windows, then rolled up the windows to make sure the ropes and cords held tight.

And with that, I set out to the storage shed. Mid way through, it hadn't fallen off yet, and I started to get the feeling that maybe it would actually work. I ultimately arrived at the storage shed without incident and plopped the sucker in the shed, still assembled. Now, maybe I'll still have to disassemble it when we move, but maybe not. Maybe I saved myself a bunch of work through a pretty dumb idea.

I feel pretty good about that.

Assholes Don't Die, They Just Become Old Assholes

For those of you currently entertaining thoughts of "Now that law school is over, I won't ever have to see (insert random douchebag here) again for the rest of my life," here is a sad wakeup call. You may not have to see that particular douchebag, but rest assured, you will have to see plenty of others. Law school may have been the sun of our d-bag solar system, but venture out into space a bit, I guarantee you run up against, at the very least, satellite douchebags, and at worst, a whole douchebag meteor shower.

Take today for instance. Public Defender's Office has a training seminar. Our speaker has gone on five minutes past her allotted time, and the next period was supposed to be our break, which was supposed to give us fifteen minutes respite from all the mind-numbing "learning." When she stops, and most of us are just about to bolt for the door, Old Asshole raises his hand to ask a question. Speaker lady provides a thorough, 5 minute time suck of an answer. Anyone else? Old Asshole raises his hand, asking another pointless question. And these questions weren't even directed toward anything she had said - just anecdotes about the different failures in his career, and how one might go about avoiding those problems. I don't know what kind of answer that one got, because I stood up and left the room.

Just goes to show you, assholes never really leave for good, they just linger and became crotchety old assholes. Until you escape this profession, you will never escape the d-bag solar system.


*And for those of you who inserted your old pal Vice into the "random douchebag here" blank, you're right -- you won't see me. Not even when I creep out of the shadows, sneak up behind you, and decapitate you with a whale machete. Take comfort in that.

Forfeit

If a criminal defendant fails to appear at court, the judge issues a warrant for his or her arrest.

On the other hand, if the district attorney fails to appear at court, we fucking sit there and wait, and wait, and wait, and wait, until some other DA who just got handed the file strolls in (45 min late) and says she won't concede the motion, even though the expungement statute is supposed to be self-executing, because blah blah frickety blah blah. So then we have to talk to the judge, who says we need to order a transcript, and now we're setting the stupid motion off another month or so.....

I say fuck that in its lopsided ass. This is street ball rules. You don't show up, you forfeit.

One Down, Infinity To Go

KH and I celebrated one year together this week - the actual date was Thursday, May 31, but due to a bit of memory lapse on my part, we did the celebrating Friday night. I more than made up for it though, I'd say. I got my princess all princessed up, and we went out on the town.

Note the tiara, the pretty pink dress, and the necklace.

I also rented a white tux, and we had an amazing dinner at L'Etoile. The only disappointing thing about the whole evening was the lack of ludicrous french accents by our servers.

And for my present, KH commemorated the past year by giving me a scrapbook with every picture of us ever taken, and little messages that recapped all of our favorite moments. By far the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me.

So here's to one incredible year with my princess, and many, many more.

I Want To Go Camping, God Damn It

I've been wanting to go camping again at Devil's Lake for awhile now. Hiking those hella steep trails is one of my favorite things to do. The last time KH and I went camping, we had an awesome time on Saturday, swimming, hiking, and cake eating. However, that night we got rained out, and it continued raining all night and the next morning, forcing us to pack the tent up in the pouring rain and come home way too early on Sunday.

This time we wanted the full camping experience. We planned on going Wednesday and Thursday, as she is starting work full time on Monday. But the weather looked like ass - scattered thunderstorms all day Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. Fearing another wash out like last time, we pushed camping off until the weekend, hoping at least that Saturday would be decent, and Sunday would be nice. Naturally, Wednesday and Thursday were pretty much fine. There was some rain, and plenty of cloud cover, but mostly it was nice out.

Fine - screw you, Mother Nature. Let's see what the weekend brings. So we got up yesterday morning, checked the radar, and found a massive stormfront covering pretty much all of everywhere, and the forecast now put thunderstorms on Sunday too. Not wanting to hike the treacherous bluffs in the rain, we said fuck it, and decided to try next weekend instead. It rained briefly yesterday, and then it was perfectly fine out. And today seems absolutely beautiful.

At this point, I assume the forecast will put next weekend at sunny and mild, until it gets here, and we drive to Devil's Lake, only to get hit by an effin' typhoon.

Hunting

Apparently Vice isn't the only one who's been apartment hunting lately. Last week Thursday KH and I purused another pretty nice place, and checked out the various layouts of their rooms. After looking at one particularly nice apartment, she noticed someone else scoping out the same apartment from the balcony - a giant falcon.

That's right - among the many amenities of this place, giant falcons come standard. He was just sitting on the railing, staring in at us like "I dare you to come out here, motherfucker. I double-dare you." Don't get me wrong, normally I wouldn't hesitate to roundhouse some greedy-ass animal standing on my potential balcony looking at my potential apartment, especially since normally that animal would be a racoon.

But this was no coon. This was probably two feet tall, with talons longer than my fingers. It sat there with no fear whatsoever and stared us down. It may as well have had a sign hung around its neck advising "Not to be fucked with."

So, by the looks of it, I'm gonna have to take up falconry if I want to live there. That, or get my eyes pecked out.

Test of Time

This week I rewatched the movie that really spurred my interest in law - A Few Good Men. It came out in 1992, when I was ten years old, and at the time I thought it was the coolest thing ever. So many big stars, so much awesomeness. But I wondered, after fifteen years have passed, including three years of studying political science and another three years of learning and practicing the actual law, would this movie hold up? Or would it be exposed as just another naive, contrived attempt at legal and political drama?

After rewatching it, I'm glad to say this movie still kicks ass. For someone who loves political theory and the ethical considerations that go into public service and the use of power, this movie has it all. It made me want to do criminal defense, because everyone deserves the protections and procedural safeguards of the law, even the guilty. It made me want to expose corruption, to give those who believe themselves above the law their comeuppance, and to serve my country and protect its ideals. The same values I saw back in the day were present now, and even moreso because I understood it more. This movie teaches that everyone's rights must be observed, even the weak among us. No, scratch that, especially the weak. It states that protecting democracy means protecting everyone in the democracy. Most importantly, it states that when the leaders of this country start making decisions that trample on the rights of the few under color of protecting the many, those decisions ought to be subject to review, and those leaders subject to removal where appropriate. No one is above the law, neither those that enforce it nor those that write it.

If I had read the credits closely beforehand, I should have known that this movie would stand the test of time, without even needing to see it again. Why? It was originally written as a play by Aaron Sorkin, and he wrote the screenplay based on his play. Sorkin, of course, brought us the brilliant political drama The West Wing, one of my personal favorites. To me, that show defined what public service was all about. No wonder, then, that A Few Good Men provides a similarly shining example, even fifteen years after its creation.

How to Stop an Exploding Man in the Stupidest Way Possible

With all apologies to Mr. Ismael, I am not intending this to be a full review of last night's Heroes episode. I was just so thoroughly disappointed by the finale last night that I had to say something. There were so many things wrong with it, most notably:

(CAUTION: SPOILERS)

1. Defusing Peter. I'll admit, the actual moment where Nathan flew down and decided to fly Peter into the atmosphere to detonate was pretty powerful. The fact that he and Peter were both willing to sacrifice themselves (though one or both is probably not dead) for their city was amazing. But when you stop to think about it, there were so many other ways to deal with the problem where they wouldn't have had to resort to that. First, Peter could have flown himself into the atmosphere, rather than Nathan needing to do it for him. Maybe Peter couldn't do this because all his efforts were geared toward controlling the radioactivity. Fine, then use the Claire (or anyone else) shooting Peter before he could explode plan. Where was the big flaw in that? Claire shoots him. Peter dies, and does not explode. Peter regenerates using the invulnerability power he got from Claire. Or, if he couldn't do that on his own, Claire helps him rengenerate like she did previously. There was no reason to go the route they did, other than the "let's be noble/macho and sacrifice ourselves for no fucking reason" principle. Bravo, writers.

2. Peter v. Sylar II. Right up until it "happened," this battle was set up to be awesome. They filmed it like it would be an epic showdown. And we had every reason to believe it would be, after the sheer awesomeness of the first match at the apartment. Two badasses with an extensive collection of powers, including telekinesis, which pretty much allows them to do whatever the fuck they want. Sylar levitated Peter - okay. Sylar flung a parking meter at Peter. Okay, we're building to something. Then Jessica/Niki intervenes. Then she leaves. Suddenly, the battle becomes a fist fight. What the hell? Does Peter have super punching powers previously unknown to the viewer? Um, no. So why punch him? TELEKINESIS, dude! My best guess at what the hell went wrong was that Jessica/Niki infected this battle with her presence, just like she infected every episode and scene in the majority of the season. Either she ruined this, or the writers just gave up. No excuse for that fight.

3. Sylar v. Hiro. In the midst of the Sylar/Peter showdown, Hiro shows up, five feet away. "You," Sylar cleverly announces. Then Hiro runs up and stabs him. I feel like turning the tv off. He runs up and stabs Sylar? Sylar, the guy who can stop bullets and fling them back at Parkman? Sylar, the guy who can stop an armored car and flip it over by waving a finger? He clearly had enough time to see Hiro coming, because he stopped and uttered that amazing witticism. The man stops bullets and, well, EVERYTHING, but he can't stop the pudgy kid with the sword. And Hiro runs and stabs Sylar? The guy can teleport! If he had teleported a foot away and stabbed him immediately, I would have bought it. They could have done it awesome in slow motion. But no. Like Peter punching Sylar in the face, Hiro runs up and stabs him. I just don't understand it.

4. Hiro's ability. I've complained about this before - time travel presents an endless problem of why you don't just travel a few seconds earlier, or however earlier you need to fix things, and fix things when it's much easier. The teleporting too - when at Isaac's apartment, he teleports past Sylar, grabs Ando, teleports away, all before Sylar can do anything. Why, in the name of all that is holy, wouldn't he stab Sylar right then and there? Sylar couldn't have moved in time to stop it. I don't see any logical reason, other than moving this moment to the climax where it would be more dramatic, for Hiro not to end it right there.

Not to be a hater, but I've got a lot of problems with this show right now. I've held off up to this point because I thought the finale would address most of them, or at least be so awesome in what it does address that any other problem seems minor. Then, when the finale blows some serious goats, these problems seem more glaring. So here we go:

We never follow one character's progression long enough to really care. I mean, all the characters are generally likeable, but you only see them in short segments each time. Sometimes that's a good thing, as following one character for too long can detract from the overall story, especially in an ensemble show. But at some point we need episodes that focus on the development of a particular character. The only time this has happened so far was with Mr. Bennett in "Company Man," and that was a fantastic episode. Otherwise, we only get little moments. So then when people get killed off, I find myself less interested. By contrast, in a show like Lost, which takes great lengths to develop each character by focusing on a different one each episode, I really feel like I know the characters, and have some stake in their existence, even if I despise most of them. Here, I don't have that.

The character progression we do see is scattered at best. At first, I thought the writers were going for a long, slow journey type of progression, which was why we only needed to see little bits in each episode. That's why I didn't complain. Different from what I usually watch, but fine. But then, all of the sudden characters who were progressing at a snail's pace suddenly pull 180s and have supposedly reached their big moments in the span of one episode.

For example, Hiro. He started out so normal, kinda pudgy and mild-mannered. We caught a glimpse of his future as a hardened samurai, which was awesome. All season he remains the pudgy nice guy, though on a mission. Then, in one epsiode, he becomes a swordsman, apparently without the assistance of his time-manipulation powers. Um... okay. Sure, he's not the future Hiro badass we saw, but still, where's the progression there? He never had a single sword fight all season. Now, with a little practice, he's proficient.

Then you've got Nathan. The writers were clearly developing him as the ambitious leader with a good heart. He started out making selfish decisions, being an asshole in general. Over time, you got to see his caring side. But then Linderman tells him the plan to kill millions, and that Nathan will have to be complicit. Nathan's like "That's awful. Where do I sign on?" He seems conflicted, then he seems to buy into it. Right up until his final scene, we've seen nothing to indicate he's changed his mind. Then, all the sudden, he swoops in, ready to sacrifice himself and prevent a massacre. I don't buy the "he didn't want to let Claire get killed" idea, because Claire is invunlerable. I also don't buy the "he didn't want to let Peter get killed" idea, because in Nathan's solution, either Peter would get killed anyway, or Peter would be able to regenerate himself anyway.

And another thing - where is the romance in this show? Not one of the characters have a romantic interest anymore, it seems. If nothing else, this would provide some real dramatic tension. Even comic books and action movies, where the main focus is on the plot, there is usually always some sort of romance to add a layer to the story. Not so here.

Again, I still like this show, and it has incredible potential. Maybe that's why it's so frustrating right now - I know what it could be, and it could be absolutely amazing. Right now, it's not.

As a result, it's not in the same league as Lost or Battlestar Galactica in terms of quality right now, in my opinion.

The End is Nigh

So graduation happened, and Vice saw that it was good. Highlights include:

1. Getting hooded by Weston. Really brought things full circle, if you know what I mean. (If you don't, I meant something inappropriately sexual.)

2. The first student speaker. (Are we allowed to use names? I don't know the ettiquette here. Anyway, you know who you are.) His speech was straight-up awesome. Especially his shout-out to the pirate community. Which reminds me, Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End starts this Friday. Should be pretty bad-ass.

3. Cliff Thompson's speech. Oh. My. God. Cliff, you are amazing. That was the most random thing I have ever heard. I mean, I've heard countless lectures from three of your classes, but this eclipsed them all in terms of sheer awesomeness. Some playas rise to the occasion in the playoffs, and you, sir, have a larger dagger collection than any of them. Bravo.

4. The afterparty at the brink, where Mr. Ismael got a little creative with the camera. Absolutely hilarious.

5. Not having a full-time job yet. Oh, wait, never mind. That sucks.

Congratulations to all of you who have graduated.

I AM THE LAW

With all due respect to Judge Dredd, I am the law, by the looks of it. I've mentioned a case I'm working on involving challenges to the constitutionality of some state statutes before; first we made a challenge to Wisconsin's defamation statute for being overbroad, both facially and as-applied, by infringing on our client's First Amendment rights. I wrote a brief and an addendum setting forth our arguments, and submitted it to the DA and the Attorney General's office. The AAG stepped in to review the issue, and decided that we were right, at least on the as-applied challenge, and he recommended that the DA dismiss that charge. He did, and it was awesome.

Then, against all common sense, we tried to use the exact same attack on the identity theft statute. Again, the task of writing a brief fell to me, and I did my best. As mentioned previously, I felt the whole thing was ridiculous, and that we had no shot in hell. My argument did have a logical progression to it, but ultimately made a huge leap to suggest that the same issues from defamation law would apply here, and that somehow the conduct regulated in this statute implicated our client's rights to free speech. After submitting that brief, I felt a little amazed at the prospect a judge could actually agree with our argument, and that that would actually be the state of the law.

Then the AAG submitted a reply brief, which it seemed to me burst our collective bubble by essentially pointing out that the statute has nothing whatsoever to do with speech. There is no case law even remotely approaching the issue we argued (which, to me, seems perfectly appropriate), so the AAG cited one case that drew an analogy where the court basically looked at a statute and said it regulates conduct, and the speech involved is incidental. I figured the exact same thing would happen to us. I did find one important way to distinguish these cases, but I didn't think it mattered.

Well sportsfans, yesterday hell froze straight the fuck over. We had the hearing on our motion to dismiss, and I got to tag along. My employer let me sit at the table and even introduced me on the record as his "able associate and law clerk," which was cool. Even though I got to sit at the big boys' table all summer with the DA's office and got some first-chair experience, I never sat in on any issue that was this big. The DA was there, and the AAG even made a personal appearance to argue.

My employer went first, giving a pretty thorough and persuasive rundown of our argument. The judge asked him a question or two, then let the AAG speak. But first he asked the AAG some questions, and this was where shit started to get real for real. First he asked about the standard of review, which was that, since this was a First Amendment issue (supposedly), the State had the burden to prove it constitutional beyond a reasonable doubt. The AAG basically agreed with that - score one for us.

The next questions the judge asked were about specific points of our argument, and whether the AAG agreed with them. Those points just happened to follow the logic of my brief - the key points that I thought were correct leading up to the conclusion. The AAG agreed with each point, which, to be honest, he probably should have. I started to get a tingle - what was going on here? Was the judge actually buying it?

Then he asked another question, basically whether the element of the statute we were challenging was the same thing as defamation. I never thought to suggest that; I thought they were clearly distinguishable. The AAG, however, conceded that they were basically the same. What what? I mean, I suppose, but you could at least make the argument that they weren't. No offense to the AAG, because he was clearly very intelligent and was much more interested in the legal question than winning, but I was expecting a more fiery attack on his part. Something along the lines of "this is fucking ridiculous," which would probably have been my fallback argument in his position.

It was about this point where I started thinking "oh my god oh my god oh my god." I was smiling uncontrollably; I kept having to look down, bite my lip, clench my teeth, anything to stop from smiling. This was all pretty unbelievable. I thought we'd get laughed out of court. Now it was all I could do to keep from laughing - we were WINNING.

The AAG made his argument, and it was pretty strong. Then the judge went into his decision. First he went through all of his reasoning, and he basically tracked my brief and my employer's argument point for point. He acknowledged that, although the statute was clearly geared toward regulating conduct, not speech, it still had an element that the state had to prove that involved protected speech. And since the State had the burden beyond a reasonable doubt - -

At this point, my employer and I were both losing it. The judge was going to rule for us, and we knew it. This little motion that could was about to conquer the fucking mountain. And then it happened - the judge dismissed the charge. He assumed it would get appealed, and he was interested to find out how it would turn out, because it was a very close call. The judge and the AAG both found this to be a fascinating question of law. I was just dumbstruck.

After it was over, my employer and I talked briefly with the DA and the AAG. They are going to appeal, of course, which they really should. It was pretty cool - the AAG asked if I wrote the briefs, and said that the defamation brief in particular was really, really good. He said if I was his intern, he would hire me immediately.

For those of you keeping score, the scoreboard looks like this:

Me 2, Attorney General 0.

It was absolutely incredible. Sitting up at that table, after I realized what was going to happen - it was like a 15 minute mental orgasm. The best part was how hopeless it had seemed, and how suddenly we were victorious. I think that feeling was even better than winning the jury trial, just because the odds were so stacked against us. We're still going to have our hands full on appeal, and probably won't win it. But for one brief, shining moment...

Lean Like a Cholo

It's your old pal Vice, emissary of the ghetto, back to break you off another piece of street knowledge. You may recall last summer when I had to hip you all to what it meant to ride dirty; now I have been asked once again to bring my unique brand of interpretative skizzles. The topic of today's discussion is the song "Lean Like a Cholo" by the artist Down, aka 'Kilo.' Specifically, the primary questions to be addressed are:

(1) What is a "cholo"?

(2) How does one "lean" like a cholo?

Generally, the term "cholo" is a noun, used to refer to any person of mixed American and Spanish ethnicity. Colloquially, however, cholo refers to a Mexican gangsta, as in the sentence "I'm cruisin' through the east side with a couple of cholos." It can also be used as an adjective to refer to the Mexican gangsta style, as in the sentence "My homeboy got shot up for dressing like a cholo." More broadly, the term "cholo" implies a Hispanic male that typically dresses in chinos (khahki pants), a wifebeater sleeveless teeshirt or a flannel shirt with only the top buttoned, a hairnet, or with a bandana around the forehead, usually halfway down over the eyes.

Additionally, cholos can often be spotted driving low riders, although they are not often visible to the naked eye, as they lean back while driving and often can't be seen over the steering wheel. I myself am often mistaken for a cholo for this reason, and while I do tend to lean back while driving, I am generally not tall enough to see over my steering wheel to begin with.

Now that we know what a cholo is, how does one lean like one? Does "lean" simply mean to tilt one's body at an angle, or is there another meaning entirely? There are various meanings of "lean," most of them referring to a particular alcoholic drink, or as slang terms for getting blunted. Neither of these is applicable here, as the context clues indicate "lean" is used as a verb indicating a particular dance move. Peep the lyrics to the hook:

"Side to side
elbows up side to side
elbows up side to side
elbows up side to side
like a cholo"

Thus it appears if one wants to lean like a cholo, one need only put one's elbows up and tilt one's body from side to side. This should be done slowly, so as not to strike any other cholos standing nearby, also with their elbows up and in the process of leaning. As a precautionary measure, this movement should be practiced in front of a mirror before actual execution in public. Once in public, the safest and most effective way is to coordinate with other cholos, so that all leaning occurs in the same direction at the same time. Thus any embarassing accidents and resulting gang violence can be avoided.

Of course, to truly lean like a cholo, one may in fact need to be a cholo, lest one gets one's ass capped.

And the Horse You Rode In On

Here's a big fat middle finger the Board of Bar Examiners. I got a letter back today saying the Board has decided I have the requisite character and fitness to practice law in Wisconsin. Great. So at least that process is over, assuming the Dean says I passed my classes. Now all I have to do is bring a photo ID to the swearing-in ceremony, as well as...

A fat check for $100.

Um, extortion much? What the hell happened to the money I already paid them? I checked -- apparently the first $210 (or $310, for those of us who missed the initial deadline) was a "filing fee," while this next $100 is the "admission fee." Awesome. Not like I have any choice in the matter, is it?

Here's looking forward to the inevitable "swearing in fee" of $55 and the "congratulations, you've been a member of the bar for 3 months fee" of $375, and the "No really, pay us or you'll never work in this state again fee" of $750,000...

Old Enemies

While driving down Bassett St. last night, I encountered an old enemy of Mr. Utah, and thus an old enemy of us all. As I negotiated the curve onto Wilson St., I found myself face to face with a GIANT RACCOON, last seen fleeing in terror from Mr. Utah's previously coon-infested apartment building at the corner of Bassett and West Wash. Many of you may recall Mr. Utah's confrontations with the raccoon and its kin over the fall of 2004 and spring of 2005, until he ultimately bested it in a climactic final battle held at the Thunderdome. Afterwards, the raccoon fled the apartment and took its babies underground, and had not been spotted since.

However, the re-emergence of the Alpha Coon last night spells trouble. After all, raccoons are some of the most destructive, assholish creatures ever created. (The link is to Utah's archive; scroll down to find his authoritative PBS review on Raccoons.) They are like the evil version of John McClane -- seriously hard to kill. Unless they get rabies/syphillis, which infects their brains and causes them to enter your yard and wander around aimlessly for several hours until they fall over and die, leaving you to dispose of their gigantic, worthless carcasses. Much like a common homelii.

The scourge of the animal kingdom is back, so hide your women, children, and beloved pets. Unless you want this to happen to them:

Don't let this happen to America.

What the F*ck? (Updated)

Alright Gollum, its way past time to get your shit together. Now, I know you're probably out questing for your precious, the One Ring, and are therefore too busy to return our goddamned sentencing papers. But until Wisconsin decides to legalize such partnerships, and until Dickey decides to swing that way (toward evil, gangly, bulbous-headed creatures, that is), there's really no point. So give us back our papers, for the love of Christ. I have every intention of writing my next paper in the exact same manner as the first, and I'd like to find out if I did a decent job before cranking out another 15 pages of the same crap. I need my flippin' paper back.

Seriously, you told us we'd get them back a couple weeks after we returned from break. I made sure to attend that class, but lo and behold, nothing. Next week, you say. Next week you'll return our paperses. Fine. Against my better judgment, I attend class. No paperses! "Next week. You can trust poor Smeagol, we promises!" Fine. Final week of class, held at the Terrace. No reason for me to go whatsoever, since I haven't read anything in like 6 weeks, and its not like I'm going to make any effort to participate. Only reason I would even consider going to this, when I know you'll still want to discuss the reading, is to get my blasted paper back.

So I attend. I sit with the group at the table, waiting for your arrival. Then, across the horizon, we spot your giant head, drifting up over the crowd like a hot air balloon. Alas, your hands are empty, except for a copy of the week's reading. You schmuck! I sit through another effin' worthless class, the last of my law school career. What a disappointment this class was. "No paperses? Oh, dear me! We puts them in your hangfileses tomorrow, we promises!"

Checked the hangfile the next day. To my "astonishment," nothing there. A few days later the class listserve gets an email. Seems a student informed you that, yet again, you forgot our flippin' papers. You'll put them in the hangfile ASAP.

Well, aparently in the caves of Middle Earth "ASAP" means in "Approximately Seventy Ages, Possibly." I checked my hangfile again today, and again got a donut for my troubles. (To be clear, there was no actual donut in my hangfile, or I'd be too busy eating it right now to be riled up about this.) So any attempt at writing my paper today would be in the dark.

Be a good Smeagol, and get off your lazy ass.

UPDATE: Apparently Gollum hasn't handed our papers back because, get this, he LOST half of them. ??? Now he's got to go creep across Middle Earth to see where the hell he left them.

UPDATE: He has found the papers! We will not get them back until we turn in our next papers. Big surprise.