First, I have been a delinquent poster. Between class and part-time work, which is like another (extremely practical) 5 hour class (but that pays YOU!),  one stays very busy.

I’d like to give a brief nod to egg nog and good times.

(This is about 1/3 of the assemblage)

This past Sunday was the last Waco Thanksgiving. You see, fellow legal comrades have hosted a potluck of sorts the weekend before Thanksgiving each year. Unfortunately, this will be the last, as most everyone that I know will have graduated by this time in 2010.

There was lots of  good company and good food. Lots of food. Everyone brought delicious items: Turkeys, hams, pastries etc. I brought whisky-nog made from scratch. Do you know how one makes egg nog?

Lots of freakin’ eggs, heavy creamer, pounds of sugar, and pints of your favorite spirits. It’s basically a raw egg and cream shake. I’m fairly certain I consumed at least 12,000 calories last night between all the good food and nog.

But in between epic caloric intake there were a lot of good times. As much as law school has been one of the most malaise inducing experiences of my life, I will take away from it memories of good friends and  bonds between people that, divine spirit-willing, will continue to last for a long time. I’ll fondly look back on hearing stories, telling bawdy jokes, and sharing a good chunk of my twenties with so many fellow BLS travelers.

So here’s to good nog and the friends you share it with.

This is neat.

Lexis and Westlaw have an oligopoly on legal research. They take what is in the public domain, add some features like headnotes and links to relevant treatises, and then charge attorneys out the wazoo. THE WAZOO. I think it’s about time that legal research gets a facelift.

You know what would be even better?  A Wikipedia -esque community that provides explanations, commentary and elaboration on cases. Sure, this wouldn’t be “official” or “reliable.”  But I owe about 40% of my undergraduate education to Wikipedia. It was always a perfect jumping off point for whatever I was researching. It was rarely so erroneous that it proved to be detrimental. Likewise, a Wikilegal could provide an invaluable resource for solo practitioners and regular folks. What better way to promote civic awareness than to open up the clenched and dry jaws of the common law? (I imagine the common law as a vast, omnipresent mouth in the sky because of that quote from Holmes. Oh, Holmes.)

H/T to Nforcitizenship

This. The “9/11 Mastermind” (who also looks sort of like a Muppet) will go on trial.

While it’s more likely than not that he’ll be convicted, the case will present a great deal of constitutional issues – torture, speedy trial, Miranda, Rochin, etc.  I think that it’s exceptional that he’s being put on trial and afforded due process, despite the fact that he participated in the execution of an atrocity.

But others think all that due process is just libruhl jibbajabba:

“These terrorists planned and executed the mass murder of thousands of innocent Americans,” Senator John Cornyn of Texas said Friday. “Treating them like common criminals is unconscionable.”

Statements like this, especially coming from a former Texas Supreme Court justice, are particularly unfortunate. As another commentator wrote in an excellent posting, “We’re too scared to have real trials in our country” is a level of cowardice unmatched in the world.

You would think that the blowhard tough guys who are the first to say “Let’s go to war!” would also be the first to say “We’re not afraid of you. In fact, we’re so not afraid of you, once we capture you, we’re going to subject you to the tedium and nuance of our legal system. Hell, we’ll even give you a defense attorney – for free!”

But as we all know, hypocrisy and doublespeak have been the new black for the past decade.

My new favorite website to distract me from studying is lawforkids.org. It features rudimentary drawings of what not to do. Examples:

The irony of this cartoon is that while future M.P. appears to become some sort of recidivist convict, Mikeeeee also ends up in his own form of figurative corporate imprisonment.

This one feels like frame 6 should show the skeletons of Marco and Kirk underneath Mr. Smith’s house. I dunno, it has a creepy Gacy/Son of Sam feeling about it.

Unfortunately, the site does not feature a discussion of mens rea. But there is a great propagandistic  “stories” section:

“Hi, my name is Cindy and I’m 15 years old. It’s my first day in jail, adult jail, and boy am I scared! I was at juvenile jail once and this isn’t anything like that place! I still can’t believe how fast all of this happened. One night I’m out dancing at an after hours club and wham, now I’m in prison for up to 22 1/2 years! I suppose you’d like to know how this happened. Well, I was leaving the after hours club when these three girls from the north side were messing with me. My friends had already left so I was alone. I pulled out my pistol which, by the way, wasn’t even loaded, and pointed it at them and told them to leave me alone. I didn’t mean anything by it. I wasn’t going to shoot them. I just wanted them to leave me alone. But I got arrested and charged with three counts of aggravated assault with a deadly weapon. (How deadly is a gun with no bullets I asked, but that didn’t mater) Anyway, I guess last July a new law makes it so that kids that get charged with certain crimes have to go to adult jail instead of juvenile jail.  Well, I’m one of them, on my way to adult prison at age 15. I won’t get out of jail until I’m almost 40 years old!”

….

On 05/22/09
Mark from AZ said:
This story is bogus. First, juveniles don’t go to “adult jail.” Anyone under 18 will not be housed with people over 18, in jail or in prison. And why are you in jail if you were sentenced to 22 1/2 years. You would be in prison. Second, nobody is going to give a 15 year old 22 1/2 years for that. Second Degree Murder (if you shot and killed one of those people) will get you about 22 years max. Finally, there is no internet access in jail. How could you even post this ridiculous story from jail. If you want to give kids a message, do it, but don’t lie and make things up to do it. On 04/29/09

Jilly from MS said:
The story doesnt really sound legitimate. I’ve never once heard a 15 year old in this day and age use the phrase “boy, am I scared!” …

I’ve always wondered why the government is so ineffective at informing kids about crime and punishment. Who is the target demographic? 7-year old delinquents?

When Finals Season arrives, I often find myself at home passively watching whatever happens to be in my Netflix queue (streaming Netflix is key to happiness).  I’ve been revisiting the classics of the 1980s and early 1990s. Tonight, I chose Purple Rain, starring Prince.

It is both absurd and awesome. Example:

Apollonia: Will you help me [start a singing career]?
The Kid: No.
Apollonia: Pardon me?
The Kid: Nope… Wanna know why?
Apollonia: Nope.
The Kid: Because you wouldn’t pass the initiation.
Apollonia: What initiation?
The Kid: Well, for starters, you have to purify yourself in the waters of Lake Minnetonka.
Apollonia: What?
The Kid: You have to purify yourself in Lake Minnetonka.

[She jumps in]

Now, keep in mind this is dialogue between a  5′2″ guy with a bouffant hairdo, clad in a blouse, riding on a purple motorcycle, and a girl in a leather catsuit, set against a mid 80s synth soundtrack.

But you know what? The waters of Lake Minnetonka beat the hell out of the Texas Code of Criminal Procedure.

October 31, 1992. I was 7-years old and my family lived in Wisconsin.

And I was The Batman.

My dad took me trick-or-treating early in the evening. In the north, the night turns pitch black by about 6:30 p.m during those eternal winter months. It was a slick, biting blackness – there was light sleet and wind to accompany the night’s activities. But my Bat-thermal underwear crammed underneath my cape and cowl kept me warm.  If only I had some sweet nightvision goggles.

I had a Bat-pillowcase and a Bat-flashlight. With the proper crime fighting and candy-collecting gear in hand, my dad and I set out to plunder the neighborhood. It was going to be a long night.

Raiding. That’s what it was. This wasn’t mere trick-or-treating.  It was an efficient and tactical raid on the neighborhood. Cloaked in the darkness, the neighbors would heed my cry: “TRICK OR TREAT.” And the candy flowed. I still remember a few people felt the need to ask me my identity: “Who might you be?”

I’m The Batman [ ...and you're the dispenser of candy].

The inquisitor was thanked, and then back I went into the shadows of the night, working my way through the squads of zombies, fairies, devils and Bart Simpsons.

And so I walked with my dad until my feet hurt, until my pillow case was about to split at the seems with tasty treats. He talked to me about how cool it would be to be Batman, except that Batman seemed pretty incapable of keeping the Joker in jail. A good point, but I was sure there were good reasons.

My cowl was starting to ice.  Our mission was complete and we still had the trek back uphill to our home on Carnwood Drive. I was exhausted, but the fruits of our labor had paid off. I had pounds of candy.  It was so luxuriant and decadent the bag should have been measured in kilos. I poured my loot out on the living room floor and stared in awe at the beauty and the bounty. So much variety, so many flavors and colors. High fructose heaven.

And I dined. That is, until my mom came along and stopped the gorging. Clearly there was a new entry into Batman’s Rogues Gallery – The Mom.  My Bat-whine was ineffective. She put my candy on top of the fridge, out of my reach. That was ok though, Batman would anticipate such setbacks, I figured. So there was at least a pound underneath my bed. There’s nothing like flattened candy to bring to school the next day.

Man. Halloween used to be awesome.

Get it? lol looks like a little man about to go under. Now you’re going to think about that every time someone writes lol to you. That’s why I am sure to provide a proportionate lol level per the amount of actual laughter I am doing. For example:

A smile: lol.

Chuckling: lolll

Laughing, out loud: lolllllz

Laughing at you or someone else: LULZ

The abdominal work out laugh: LOLLZLZLLZLZ!!111!

Which leads me to my main point. There just isn’t enough irreverent humor at BLS. Where are the lolz? When it does happen, I think we’re all very happy. Case in point.

Well played, PC students. That’s a statue of former Practice Court professor, Matt “Mad Dog” Dawson, who is, I am told, a legend around these parts. He also makes a lovely pirate.  I wonder if he taught ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRbitration on the side?  You know, if you don’t pay your child support, you’ll be in ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRReeears. All right, I’m all done. Good luck on finals everyone.

There’s been a lot of hatin’ and negativity on this blog lately. So, because I am in a vapid, airy mood, I’d like to give a completely random and idiosyncratic list of enjoyable things:

1. Church’s Chicken. They must batter their chicken in endorphins.

2. Cowboy boots. After 15 years of  Texas residency, I now own a pair. Why I don’t own 100 pairs, all in various kinds of exotic animal skins, is beyond me. I would buy dolphin skinned boots given the chance. I’d also eat a dolphin, but that’s a story for a different blog.

3. People watching at Wal-Mart. Well before www.peopleofwalmart.com, I conducted miniature sociological expeditions at the Bellmead Wal-mart at different times of the day. Best time to go is on Sunday afternoon for maximum diversity.

4. Waco. Wait, whaaaaat?!! Waco does suck, but it doesn’t suck so bad it hurts. It’s a perfectly livable place. It ain’t Rio de Janeiro, but you get homey feeling  after a year. Others will disagree, but that’s because they don’t know how to accept what is in life.

5. Ken Burns. This elfin man has produced beautiful documentaries that have kept me sane and curious. I recommend Unforgivable Blackness: The Rise and Fall of Jack Johnson, Lewis & Clark: The Journey of the Corps of Discovery, and Empire of the Air: The Men Who Made Radio.

Therefore, I suggest you go to the Bellmead Wal-Mart in your dolphin-skin boots, buy one of these documentaries, return home to a mound of Church’s Chicken, enjoy a glass of Maker’s Mark and have yourself a good evening.

In my undergraduate days of yore, fuzzy days and weeks framed in my memory with neon and tinsel, I read literature for class and for fun. There are some stories that stick out in my mind for what they meant to me at the time. Others for what they portended.

It was my senior year and I had just finished taking the LSAT (has it already been three years since that spiritual onslaught?). It was the late afternoon and I was back home in my apartment, soothing my nerves with a mug of 5-Star Vodka. There I sat, no shoes, no shirt, no pants, sunk into a leather recliner, flanked by my hounds, wondering what the hell housemates receiving different kinds of mail at different times in the day in different kinds of envelopes in different shaped rooms had to do with law school. To wash that experience from my mind, I decided to read for class, a class dealing with modern American short fiction. It was aptly titled Modern American Short Fiction

The short story assigned: Bartleby the Scrivener, by Herman Melville, of Moby Dick fame.

Briefly, Bartleby the Scrivener centers around a young man who walks into an old lawyer’s office, looking for a job as a scrivener (in olden times, a scrivener was the equivalent of a Xerox machine or ctrl+v). This particular lawyer deals with wills, deeds, mortgages and the like. What a happy coincidence I thought, a story about a lawyer. Who doesn’t love a good synchronicity every once in a while?

Anyway, this lawyer (now I picture Prof. T-Feath) has two scriveners already. One is a drunk, the other has chronic gastrointestinal problems. But the lawyer needs a third scrivener, I suppose as a good influence on the rest of the office. So he hires Bartleby.
But Bartleby, oh Bartleby. He starts out well enough, tirelessly copying documents. As the story progresses, he replies to the tasks given to him with one phrase: “I would prefer not to.” The lawyer does not know what to make of this man, who seems totally bereft of a life outside of the office, increasingly resilient to instruction.

Eventually the lawyer finds that Bartleby has moved into the office. He becomes an unyielding monolith, the vexing focal point of the lawyer’s thoughts. But through it all, Bartleby prefers not to do anything and stays in the office, that is, until a new tenant moves in…

Here are some representative excerpts from the story:

Imprimis: I am a man who, from his youth upwards, has been filled with a profound conviction that the easiest way of life is the best. Hence, though I belong to a profession proverbially energetic and nervous, even to turbulence, at times, yet nothing of that sort have I ever suffered to invade my peace. I am one of those unambitious lawyers who never addresses a jury, or in any way draws down public applause; but in the cool tranquillity of a snug retreat, do a snug business among rich men’s bonds and mortgages and title-deeds. All who know me consider me an eminently safe man.

…..

Ginger Nut, the third on my list, was a lad some twelve years old. His father was a carman, ambitious of seeing his son on the bench instead of a cart, before he died. So he sent him to my office as student at law, errand boy, and cleaner and sweeper, at the rate of one dollar a week. He had a little desk to himself, but he did not use it much

….

In my haste and natural expectancy of instant compliance, I sat with my head bent over the original on my desk, and my right hand sideways, and somewhat nervously extended with the copy, so that immediately upon emerging from his retreat, Bartleby might snatch it and proceed to business without the least delay. In this very attitude did I sit when I called to him, rapidly stating what it was I wanted him to do—namely, to examine a small paper with me. Imagine my surprise, nay, my consternation, when without moving from his privacy, Bartleby in a singularly mild, firm voice, replied, “I would prefer not to.”

You should go read the story. It’s online. In the end Bartleby dies because he prefers not to eat. There, I just ruined the story for you.

I enjoy revisiting old books and stories. Sometimes I will reread something like Heart of Darkness and think, “Wow, why didn’t I appreciate this kickass novella when I was 17?” But with Bartleby, the experience was much different. There are lots of easy parallels to the general ambience of law school. I don’t think it takes a Harold Bloom to figure out the attendant analogies and comparisons. What struck me was how Bartleby becomes a human singularity, lacking dynamism and dimension, but still remaining a completely sympathetic figure.

If you have time, go and read it and then think back to your first year of law school (or if you’re in the mire of it right now, take a look around). Denial of oneself – of the world. The creeping malaise. The endless and soulsucking repetition. The underlying absurdity just waiting to pop out while you find yourself living in a sterile place covered with books and papers. On bad days, especially near finals, I’m sure we’ve all experienced Bartleby-esque sentiments. These are the days when I wake up with the words “I would prefer not to” on the tip of my tongue.

“Ah, Bartleby! Ah, humanity!”

Well, I lost. Congrats to the student who won. He actually campaigned and introduced himself to his new 1L constituents and thus deserves kudos for taking a vastly more proactive attitude towards a political endeavor than printing out pieces of paper that read in big block letters “VOTE FOR WK”. It should also be noted that this student is also my criminal ‘client’ in a class exercise – we’ll see how plea negotiations go next week!

Just kidding. I am relieved someone else was elected though. Sounds like sore loser speak WK! Well, the winner faces an increasingly disenchanted student body and an administration that continues to rub the BLS student zeitgeist the wrong way. Now I can speak freely without risking potential repercussions for SBA.

What happened now, you ask?

COMMENCE EPIC AND MEANDERING POST!

In sum: The Baylor Board of Regents, a wealthy and secretive coterie of hoary white guys, looked across University Parks Drive and saw before them, on the banks of the Mighty Brazos River, the W.Umphrey Fortress of Justice. And they spake:

“We are important men! We have important announcements to make! O LAW SCHOOL! Clean up and clear out, for we shall arrive in a fortnight! BEHOLD, the Regents have spoken!” And it was so.

In less grandiloquent terms, this means that for two days, the first floor of the library is closed to students (during finals season), 2/3 of our parking lot is closed off, classrooms are reserved, forcing large classes into rooms unfit for human occupation. I’m hoping the announcement has something to do with free tuition for all, but it probably has more to do with a new university president. I can dream, can’t I?

Naturally, this announcement has pretty much sent the entire law school into berserker mode (according to an unnamed faculty member, professors aren’t exactly pleased either). It’s pretty freakin’ inconsiderate. Here are samples of comments on Facebook in response to an e-mail sent out that included references to busing arrangements, grumbles, parking-as-a-privilege and lessons in gratitude:

“hmm, alienating students and disrupting student lives? that doesn’t sound like baylor law at all.”

“i love how they have to add, “if you’re disgruntled about this…” hell yes, i’m disgruntled.”

“I’m privileged because I pay $225 for parking. I’m ungrateful because I grumble, too.”

“remember its a privilege – one you pay $200 on top of the $1000 a credit hour for.”

“one day baylor law will realize that we are more than just tuition and future donation sources. or not.”

“every stunt they pull affirms my decision to not give them ANYTHING once i’m out of here..”,,

“Didn’t we choose Baylor because it’s a small school where we won’t just be a number…hold on…oh, just found out they didn’t mean that kind of number…money is ok people”

“wait you mean BLS will throw its students under the bus (or on one, as the case may be) for a wealthy alum or two?!? That’s unheard of!!”

“Furthermore i disagree strongly that parking within a 3 wood of the lawschool is not in fact a right. It’s… a right which was represented to me when I toured BLS and it’s one I pay for. Frankly if I’d have known I was going to have to park across the street or take the bus, I’d have gone to Boulder.”

Can you smell it? No, that’s not the salty smell of people who have been grievously injured, it’s the more acrid and bitter scent of people who have been disrespected. There’s a big difference.

Why are we so sensitive? I don’t speak for the student body, but I do speak as a student who is a part of that body, somewhere near its larynx. Allow me to explain.

Great Expectations

A great many of my comrades feel cheated once the reality of this place sets in. Those glossy marketing materials BLS puts out are filled with images of diligent, hardworking A-Types, who, working under the tutelage of a Mahogany and gold colored apparatus, have their very hearts and minds forged in an atmosphere of intensive legal learning and glory. The Best Belong at Baylor, Where the Tradition of Excellence Continues, man.

(A note in the interest of fairness: (1) Most professors are pretty damn good at what they do and classroom instruction is generally great in my opinion. (2) If you got completely suckered into believing those promotional materials, you’re sort of stupid. Most of higher ed is a money-making racket dressed up in the garb of enlightenment and self-fulfillment. As a graduate student, you should know that by now.)

Reality

But the glossy thrill of being a law student rapidly wears off. The perpetual tuition increases takes its toll (what is it now, $4 million dollars a quarter?). Occasionally terrible instruction happens (my class experienced the use of untrained adjuncts during important first-year required courses). Comparatively bare OCI offerings and dim job prospects are commonplace (is it just the recession?). Our school ranking has slipped (when I started, we were tier 1, now we’re tier 2). We experience a workload that dwarfs what other law schools require (law school isn’t supposed to be easy, but sometimes even I wonder about this place…). We’re saddled with a curve that makes our GPAs look like crap compared to other schools. There is an uncommunicative and apparently dismissive administration.

All of this mixes together into a beefy stew of angst.

The Disconnect

So there it is. None of these sorts of topics are addressed in an open and empathetic (not sympathetic) atmosphere. Ever. When these issues are raised by individual students, the cacophonous official response from the Great Faceless Administrative Being is usually as follows: “Shut up, stop whining. Be grateful you’re even here. Real life is hard.” That message is sometimes supplemented with a sociological observation: “Modern law students are from a self-esteem generation, one that feels an arbitrary sense of entitlement. Well, you’re not owed anything, bucko.”

And there’s the disconnect. That’s the disrespect and lack of understanding I was referring to earlier. Real Life IS hard and it IS unfair.  But I don’t pay Real Life to render unto me its pain in the ass services. That’s Real Life. It does those things for free and it is inescapable. You can’t choose Real Life.

Cf. This is law school. I chose to come to Baylor instead of equally fine schools in Massachusetts, California, Illinois and Indiana. I pony up roughly $10,000 a quarter (plus interest) for a service. My path here mirrors most of my peers. We chose to be here voluntarily and many of us make vast financial and emotional sacrifices. Yet, regardless of that fact, when we have legitimate grievances and concerns about our school, we’re reminded that we’re lucky to be in this beautiful building – so shut up kid.

Unleash the Fuuuurryyy!

All right, so it’s been established that aspects of the school itself already makes us raw and touchy. So, when stuff like the Board of Regents displacing us from the library happens, it sets us off and narrows our angst on a single, seemingly silly target. Having to take a bus isn’t going to kill anybody, and there are plenty of other places to study. It’s a mild inconvenience in my opinion. But these kinds of choices and their attendant messages symbolize the disrespect and sense of dismissal that’s concomitant with the relationship and attitude I described above. That’s why we get so upset about parking and old rich guys taking up our study space, or Immunity Day cancellations, or dry law proms, and so on. They’re gripes fueled by a more substantive disenchantment. Where to place blame? Who knows! How could you know when decisions are made in a totally opaque situation?

Sometimes, when I see a group of prospective students, bright-eyed and bushy tailed, thrilled at the prospect of coming here to live and study among the dead, I want to say, “Hey there chipper undergraduate, just go to U of H or Tech. It’s cheaper and you don’t have to get treated like a kid. Look into my bloodshot eyes. Save yourself. ” And hell, a year on, I’m still a true believer in BLS. Imagine what the really disgruntled think and what they actually advertise.

You can’t make everyone happy all the time. That’s obvious. Just in managing Food for Finals and IM flag football, I fielded lots and lots and lots of student complaints about issues well beyond my control. While I didn’t always respect complaints in particular (yeah, I can’t control how salty the kolaches are man, that’s a stupid request), I did try to respect the person making the complaint because I owed them a service. It was in my job description. I listened. It’s not too tough.

The powers that be ought to make a concerted effort to work with and listen to students in a coherent, focused and consistent matter. It’s not hard to do really. You might even say it’s something that was promised in those admissions pamphlets. As I’ve said before on this blog, it’s in the best interest of Baylor Law School to take a more proactive approach to these matters. It would improve morale to engage in a constructive dialogue.

Back to form grading.