Poul and Perspective

So I took a pair of pants to get hemmed yesterday. (Thank you, Barney's Co-Op, for making nice pants that don't look like Hammer should be wearing them.) And I took them to Boystown's beloved Soon's drycleaner, which for those not familiar is a wonderful mother-daughter Asian sensation. Ms. Soon (the elder) pinned me up and then asked for my name to write out the receipt. I told her it was Paul.

"P - O - U - L?" she asked, although she had already jotted it down.

Thoroughly amused because she's just so darn adorable, I simply grinned and said, "Yes."

When confronted with poor English on the Internet from a seller whom I didn't know, I got palpably annoyed. Yet when the speaker is this petite, grandmotherly woman in front of me, I can't help but think it's somehow charming. And that accuracy is sometimes just an unnecessary nicety.

Sometimes the human element changes everything. Sometimes it's all a matter of perspective. And Poul can't wait to go pick up his new ass-hugging pants tonight--hemmed with the delicious precision that only Ms. Soon can provide.

Bill Maher: the Anti-Christ

My sister and I began the long, painful walk toward agnosticism quite some time ago, I suppose. But when you're raised in a fundamentalist church that tells you that you're right and everyone else (Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, Protestants and certainly those pesky Catholics) are going to Hell, well, you tend to believe what you have been spoon fed.

One of the last times my mother tried to have a religious conversation with me, I told her that the only difference between her fundamentalist church and radical Muslims who fly planes in to buildings is one of degree. She didn't like that. I told her that if she were born in rural Pakistan with the name Fatima, she wouldn't be professing her love of Jesus Christ. She didn't like that either. Religion--like sports team loyalties--is usually established by the place you exit the womb.

In a philosophy of religion class I took, we read a great book called The Two Sources of Morality and Religion by Henri Bergson. The main point I remember from the book is that Bergson thinks religion was necessary in human history because it kept us from killing one another. I suppose people could argue all day about whether we really inherently "know" that killing, for example, is "wrong" or whether we are taught that, but for the sake of argument, let's say we do not know that upon birth. Now throw a man in the sky into the picture. He's watching. Always. He's judging. Constantly. And all of the sudden, people shape up a bit. You may never get caught and prosecuted for that murder... but the man in the sky will get you when you die. Ooooh. Scary.

Bill Maher's documentary Religulous recently came to DVD. And what I like so much about it is that if Henri Bergson provided one of the bookends to the argument, Bill Maher now provided the other. Maher argues that (1) because we now have the capacity to kill each other with the press of a nuclear button, (2) that some religious people want to bring about the rapture so Christ can return, (3) that other religious people want to kill anyone who is an infidel and/or won't convert, and (4) we're all so blissfully certain that our religion is right and everyone else is wrong, our imaginary beliefs may very well bring about our own demise. After all, it's ordained, right? The Book of Revelations and all that jazz.

Thus, Bergson argued that in our more primitive years we needed religion to keep us from killing one another, while Maher argues that in our more advanced nuclear era we must abandon religion or we will kill one another.

It's scary to think that Maher is probably closer to the truth than we know. A nuclear war prompted by religious extremists is frighteningly likely. And wouldn't that just be a lovely way to bring about The End of Days? Killing each other because we wanted an imaginary god to return to take us to a Heaven that doesn't exist? Ending the world for nothing more than a well written Grimm's fairytale?

Maher, like myself, is not an atheist; he's agnostic. Atheists not only do not believe in a god, they believe there cannot be a god. Agnostics just simply say: I don't know... and neither do you. But as Maher points out, it's that very doubt that is humble. Does not Christianity preach humility? When I see a radical Christian preacher saying Islam is the greatest threat to humanity and when I see a radical Muslim preaching death and destruction to the West, I see the same thing: certainty. We. Are. Right.

I see the same thing in the faces of the brainwashed children in the documentary Jesus Camp. There's a particularly obnoxious young girl under the age of 10 who said she was so shocked and sad when she learned that the rest of the world wasn't all Christian. She walks up to strangers and gives them pamphlets--at her parents' urging--trying to save their souls. How is this not a form of child abuse? (The only time I want small children approaching me with paperwork is if they're taking my Girl Scout Cookie order.) Instilling such certainty in a child is a violation of parental duties when the responsible thing to do would be to teach her as much as possible but remind her that no one really knows who--if anyone--is up in the clouds. Oh, and by extension, if we don't really know, we probably shouldn't be killing each other in a worldwide pissing contest to prove that my god is better than your god.

Faith sustains some people. And I "get" that. But there's a fine line between leaning on your beliefs and being swallowed by them. I think most of us would agree that it's child abuse when extremist Christian parents deny their children medicine or life-saving operations because they think that praying will cure their sick child. But lower the stakes a bit. What about the person who encounters a problem in his life--big or small--and just... prays. Put it in God's hands, right? So instead of researching, learning, and most importantly trying to fix the problem, the person just throws their hands up in faith-sustaining prayer (despair?) and lets the big man upstairs handle it. If this person is a believer, he will feel better. He thinks it will get taken care of. And that lack of stress alone may convince him that someone--somewhere--is fixing things. But if there's no one there... that person has just wasted plenty of time that he could have been using to fix it... without metaphysical help. Multiply this scenario over the span of a lifetime, and you have one very unfortunate person with lots of wasted time.

"Please, God, make my husband stop beating me!" Sadly, the woman who utters those words is going to feel the back of a hand again long before she feels the hand of God lifting her from her home. Picking up the phone and dialing "911" and saying, "Please, officer, make my husband stop beating me," would have been a far more effective tactic. Isn't this, instead, what we should be teaching our children?

Bill Maher focuses on the big picture: our staunch beliefs will bring about the end of the world in a sick self-fulfilling prophecy. But the problem trickles down into places as unfortunately common as everyday domestic abuse. What a better world this might be if we put down our Bibles, stopped waiting for unanswered prayers to be heard, and started changing the world on our own.

English is hard

This is an old post from my now-defunct Myspace blog. I'm going to post some of the older postings in reverse chronological order to put a little meat on the bones of this puppy.

Originally posted on Wednesday, June 25, 2008.

So I'm a cheapskate. If I can find something cheaper online, I'll suck it up and wait till it arrives. No instant gratification needed. Plus, that way I avoid Mayor Daley's insane over 10% sales tax. (Yes, Mayor, it's called the Internets. And it's coming to an overtaxed city near you to destroy your retail. Maybe you should, oh I don't know, not tax us to death?) But I digress.

I saw this sexy watch in a store the other day. But it was a tad too pricy for my taste. So I looked it up on eBay. Score! It was about $150 cheaper. Except one picture wasn't the same as the others. Red flag. So I e-mailed the seller a simple question: "Are the hands of the watch black or grey?"

He responded, "This watch are not black or gray, it ie steel hands, and this watch is very beautiful the colour very floweriness! I beceive you can like it! Thank you very much hope you nice day!"

Um, yeah. You know what, I'm not going to buy your watch. I get it: English is hard. But it's sort of, like, the international language of business. And floweriness! Please try, mkay?

"Judicial Activism" and the gay marriage decision

This is an old post from my now-defunct Myspace blog. I'm going to post some of the older postings in reverse chronological order to put a little meat on the bones of this puppy.

Originally posted on Tuesday, May 20, 2008.

My first thought when I heard that the California Supreme Court had overturned the anti-gay marriage initiative was joy. My second was, "How is this going to affect the presidential election?" My third was, "Oh geez, here come the uneducated accusations of 'judicial activism' again."

Few things bother me more than when people who don't know what they're talking about start to whine--often loudly--about something important. (Like all the journalists who quickly wrote that the California case would likely be appealed to the U.S. Supreme Court despite the fact that no federal issues were raised on appeal and the case was decided entirely on state law. It's called a lawyer, news outlets. Hire one. It's not like people depend on you for, like, accurate news or anything. But that's a different complaint.)

Every time a court hands down a ruling that conservatives don't like, they cry foul and shout "judicial activism!" In a certain sense, one man's conception of legislating from the bench (dirty dirty bad) is another man's conception of interpreting the Constitution (yay hooray good). But in California, the judicial activism complaint holds less water. Here's why.

In California the legislature voted twice in favor of gay marriage. Arnold, the Governator, vetoed the bills both times, saying that judges should decide it. In California, the governor, members of the legislature, and judges are all elected. (Well, judges are appointed subject to retention in the next election, but practically the same thing.) You don't get much more democratically elected than that combination! And six of the seven justices that decided the gay marriage case were appointed by Republicans. Boo yah! It's fun to note that in Massachusetts when the Supreme Judicial Court ruled in favor of gay marriage, the conservatives cried, "Oh no! Let the people decide!" In California, Arnold said, "Let da judges decide." Um, ya can't have it both ways, folks!

There are those who will say, "But the people did decide. Prop. 22--voted into law by the people--defined marriage as between a man and a woman and the court overturned the will of the people." Not exactly. Constitutional law is hard stuff. One thing I didn't know before law school is that when legislatures pass laws, they don't necessarily have to be "checked" for constitutionality. That's why we have courts. While the majority of the members of Congress are lawyers, the majority of members of state legislatures are not lawyers. And when you put a proposition on a ballot for a whole state to vote on, even fewer of a percentage of those deciders will be lawyers. Members of the general public are not constitutional experts. So the people passed a proposition? Big deal. It still has to be evaluated to see if it's legal. And the Supreme Court of Cali emphasized that point quite eloquently:

Although, as noted at the outset of this opinion, we agree with the Attorney General and the Governor that the separation-of-powers doctrine precludes a court from 'redefining' marriage on the basis of the court's view that public policy or the public interest would be better served by such a revision, we disagree with the Attorney General and the Governor to the extent they suggest that the traditional or long-standing nature of the current statutory definition of marriage exempts the statutory provisions embodying that definition from the constraints imposed by the California Constitution, or that the separation-of-powers doctrine precludes a court from determining that constitutional question. On the contrary, under 'the constitutional theory of 'checks and balances' that the separation-of-powers doctrine is intended to serve' (Superior Court v. County of Mendocino (1996) 13 Cal.4th 45, 53), a court has an obligation to enforce the limitations that the California Constitution imposes upon legislative measures, and a court would shirk the responsibility it owes to each member of the public were it to consider such statutory provisions to be insulated from judicial review." In re Marriage Cases, No. S147999, slip op. at 109 (Cal. May 15, 2008).

Driving the point home, the court quoted Chief Justice Burger of the U.S. Supreme Court, who emphatically stressed that "[i]t is irrelevant that the voters rather than a legislative body enacted [the challenged law], because the voters may no more violate the Constitution by enacting a ballot measure than a legislative body may do so by enacting legislation." Id. at 113-14 quoting Citizens Against Rent Control v. Berkeley, 454 U.S. 290, 295 (1981) (emphasis supplied by CA Sup. Ct.).

When you look at the issue through this lens, it becomes quite clear: the people of California passed an unconstitutional proposition... and the justices fixed it. Funny how it's never judicial activism when the issue at hand is a conservative one (Terri Schiavo or medical marijuana in California, anyone?), but remarkably, when it's a progressive issue, the courts are somehow legislating from the bench. (See http://www.nytimes.com/2005/04/19/opinion/19tue3.html).

So if you have a family member or friend who is yapping incessantly about those darn "activist judges," feel free to pass these 2 1/2 cents along courtesy of moi.

Sometimes I’d put a dent in it. Just to know that I did it.

This is an old post from my now-defunct Myspace blog. I'm going to post some of the older postings in reverse chronological order to put a little meat on the bones of this puppy.

Originally posted on Sunday, April 20, 2008.

"Sometimes I'd put a dent in it. Just to know that I did it. I made this one. This one will be different." When I was a senior in high school, a bunch of my classmates and I went to see our teacher in a play. While I don't recall the name of the play, I do recall its delicious little communist undertones. Our teacher played the role of a steel worker. At one point during his soliloquy he told the tale of how he made pipes on a machine all day long. There was no art involved; it required minimal skill. He wasn't part of his work product; he was a mere producer. Though every pipe was supposed to be the same, he explained with a powerful but pitiful voice, "Sometimes I'd put a dent in it. Just to know that I did it. I made this one. This one will be different."

Even writing about this is a bit pathetic, I suppose. I've long since had the feeling that there are no original thoughts. It's all be done. It's all been lived. It's all been described far better than I ever could by people who understood it far more than I ever will. Writing about feeling woefully replaceable isn't exactly a new concept. But I can't help but think I haven't dinged any pipes lately, despite my attempts at trying. Nor has anyone bothered to look for any dents on my sorry self. There's a joke that associates at large law firms are "FBUs"—Fungible Billing Units. And while part of my job requires more creativity than making uniform pipes, most of it does not. I conduct research, I write summaries, I review documents, I go to bed, and I repeat the next day. On pay day we have bagels. And there's mild rejoicing. And then we go back to our desks. And do what any other attorney could do.

This wouldn't be all so troubling if it didn't coincide with a growing recognition that Chicago's gay scene (I daresay any gay scene, but I'm retaining a shred of optimism) is not unlike my job. Instead of FBUs we are FFUs—Fungible Friend Units. Or even Fungible F*ck Units. At the risk of mixing metaphors, while plenty of people want to lay the pipe, no one really wants to dent your pipe, if you catch my drift. Roll them off the assembly line—this one the same as the last. To treat someone as though they're not just another identical loser rolling off the production line would take effort. And it's an effort few are willing to expend. And so we get up every morning and do what anyone else could do. FBU. And then we go out every weekend to be treated like anyone else could be treated. FFU. Frighteningly, sickeningly, pitifully replaceable. As a wise young poet-acquaintance of mine aptly put it recently, "Lather. Rinse. Still incomplete."

"Sometimes I'd put a dent in it. Just to know that I did it. I made this one. This one will be different." Perhaps, like my teacher's character, it's enough to know that you did it differently. Something in this world—if only an inanimate object—will, by the work of your hands, be changed. But it sure would be satisfying now and then if others took the time to look for those beautiful, wonderful, life-altering dents that make some people worth keeping around.

But they don't. Lather. Rinse. Still incomplete.

Oh no! Girls might wear short skirts! The horror!

This is an old post from my now-defunct Myspace blog. I'm going to post some of the older postings in reverse chronological order to put a little meat on the bones of this puppy.

Originally posted on Wednesday, March 12, 2008.

http://www.cnn.com/2008/US/03/12/abercrombie.hospital.ap/index.html

Some delightful group called the Campaign for a Commercial-Free Childhood is pitching a fit because a new emergency room at Nationwide Children's Hospital in Columbus will be named the Abercrombie & Fitch Emergency Department and Trauma Center, after the clothing retailer pledged $10 million for the project. I guess if we had to choose between kids getting an emergency room in downtown Columbus with the prospect that 9 year-olds might see the evil word "Abercrombie" on the wall or kids dying in the streets, we should choose the latter. Short skirts = bad. It's sort of a new spin on PETA's "I'd rather go naked than wear fur" campaign. "I'd rather let my child die than be treated in an ER funded by skimpy clothing!" Puh-lease.

Children grow up to be consumers... unless they're Amish. Hell, even the Amish buy some things. I think their fragile minds can handle a few advertisements. But just in case, let's say a prayer so they will be able to handle the (gasp) Abercrombie Emergency Room.

Where are the other nine?

This is an old post from my now-defunct Myspace blog. I'm going to post some of the older postings in reverse chronological order to put a little meat on the bones of this puppy.

Originally posted on Tuesday, March 04, 2008.

The Gospels tell the story of ten lepers who came to Jesus to be healed. Jesus told them to show themselves to the priests. As they went, they were cured of their disease. One returned and threw himself at Jesus' feet giving thanks. Jesus asked, "Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they?" Luke 17:11-19. Ah, yes, the other nine. Cured of an incurable disease, but they don't have the time to say, "Gee, thanks. That whole miracle thing you do there, Jesus, that's pretty nifty."

I've had an interesting journey from my childhood in a strict fundamentalist Christian church. From there I went to college and studied Eastern religions and cultures a tiny bit. (Food for thought: apparently when we charge the Chinese with human rights abuses, they remind us that they take care of their elders while we throw them into nursing homes. Hmmm…) From Eastern religions I turned to study quite a bit of existentialism. "Man is condemned to be free," writes John Paul Sartre. Think about how fascinating that is. He believed we were condemned to be free… and not much else. Radical freedom. No expectations, no duties. (I fancied myself an existentialist at the time I took a trip to London with my boyfriend at the time Jeremy. I remember getting physically upset when he would ask people to take pictures of us with London landmarks in the background. "They don't owe us anything, Jeremy. You're infringing on their radical freedom to be left alone!" Fortunately, he offered up the camera anyway and some of those photos are now among my favorite memories. Thanks for ignoring me that time, Jer.) And while I still think existentialism can be a wonderful way to look at the world—and a great starting point—I've come to appreciate that even for the atheists among us, the world seems to operate better when we do expect some things from our fellow man and they follow through.

But how much should we give? A kidney? For a loved one? What about a stranger? Should we lay down our lives? My great-grandmother lived near the railroad in Pennsylvania. During the Depression, she realized she had it bad but that others had it even worse. (A remarkable realization in itself considering when she remarried upon the death of her first husband, her new husband immediately kicked out all of her children and forced them to fend for themselves. My grandmother was in seventh grade at the time and had to drop out of school, as her adorably awkward English skills bear testament.) Anyway, my great-grandma would leave her back door unlocked and any extra food on the table. Bums from the railroad would let themselves into her house and eat her leftovers. When they were done, they would wash the dishes and put them back. Some even scrawled thank you notes. I don't think I would trust the local bums in Chicago if I left my doors unlocked in 2008. I'm not sure I'd even want to give them leftover food if I knew they could be trusted. And I'm not sure if I should feel bad about that. Which brings be back to the lepers. No, really, I'm getting there.

I recently had a friend of a friend ask me for some legal advice. Lately, I've been putting in long days and weekends at the firm and don't have much time for sleep let alone helping others. But he got sued and asked for some help, so I spent several hours of my precious time researching the law for him, finding him local counsel who was qualified to help (and who, interestingly, had won a lawsuit against the very entity that was suing him), and sending him the results. Mind you, I had no intention of charging him. Hell, I'm not even sure I'd know how to do that without making him jump through all the hoops of becoming a client at the firm. All in all, I probably spent almost $1,000 of my brain's billable time to help. I e-mailed him the law and my analysis about two weeks ago. I have yet to receive a "thank you."

I guess if I were a slightly more religious person, I'd remind myself that God recognizes our good works even if those upon whom we bestow them do not. Or I could just use the secularized notion of karma to pat myself on the back. But I can't help but think that every time I do something nice for someone who cannot take two seconds out of his or her day to extend a "thank you," it makes me less and less inclined to help in the future. Time is precious. And when you're at the bottom of the totem pole in the law firm, even more so.

There's a wonderful story from the Depression era that's probably folklore but I love the message it sends regardless. A rabbi was riding in a train with his arm out the window. His glove flew off and he immediately reached for his other glove, ripped it off his hand, and threw it out the window as well. A person sitting near him asked why on Earth he would do such a thing. He replied, "That way the person who finds it will have a pair."

As a society I think we're past leftovers for bums and free gloves for those who walk along train tracks. But can we get a "thank you" in the house? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Am I reaching for the stars here, people?

Why I’m Still a Democrat

This is an old post from my now-defunct Myspace blog. I'm going to post some of the older postings in reverse chronological order to put a little meat on the bones of this puppy.

Originally posted on Monday, February 04, 2008.

Tomorrow I will go to the polls in Illinois and vote in the Democratic Primary. A lot has changed for me since the 2004 elections when I was a rabid Kerry supporter and couldn't fathom how anyone could vote for George W. Bush. I moved to the ghetto in Columbus and then to Chicago and I started my job. I've moderated my views quite a bit since 2004 and I finally truly understand why some people would choose to vote Republican.

I don't think many Republican candidates seem to be genuinely anti-tax anymore. It's hard to be truly anti-tax when opinion polls show that the same people who whine about government spending whine just as loudly when their cherished programs are taken away. No one wants to pay the piper, but they all want a piece of the pie. But having been squarely plopped in a very high tax bracket, it's not without pain that I open my paycheck each month. I hate taxes. They should be lower. And programs should be cut. Personally, I think a good place to start cutting would be frivolous wars that only serve to inflame the passions of a fanatical group of psychos, but what do I know?

I also believe firmly in the Second Amendment. Chicago is one of a small handful of American cities where a citizen legally cannot own a handgun to protect himself. (Clearly, criminals ponder this law intently before buying a gun for $5 on the corner and using it to kill an unarmed law-abiding citizen.) It's kind of like the death penalty (which, for certain crimes and with evidence far beyond a reasonable doubt, I support). Critics of the death penalty will say that it doesn't reduce crime. But as one politician who is pro-death penalty aptly noted, "Yeah, but I know *one* guy who won't be committing anymore crimes." It's hard to argue with logic like that. Death, if nothing else, is blissfully terminal. Likewise, it's not a question of whether the little old lady riding the El late at night will carry a handgun in her purse to defend against a would-be mugger, it's a question of can she carry it. Well, and there's that darn Second Amendment too. Shove the "well regulated militia" up your liberal bum and give me my .35 millimeter, you Starbucks-drinking suburban democrat.

...But then there's the gay thing. It's not as glamorous as the civil rights movement of the 60s. There are no black and white photographs of peaceful protesters at lunch counters having condiments poured over their heads. There are no snarling dogs biting the innocent as they cross a bridge at Selma. Sure, there are the "Matthew Shepard moments," but it's just qualitatively different. The gay rights movement is so often fought in the shadows--in hospitals and city halls and in the tax code.

I did a speech on gay marriage in college. During my research I uncovered countless heart breaking stories. Due to the time limitations, I only shared two. One involved a lesbian couple who had two children. The children were the biological children of one of the mothers. When the biological mother died, the state took the kids from their other mother and gave them back to their biological father, even though there was evidence that he had been abusive. As they were ripped away from the only family they knew, they cried and screamed for their "mommy." Without marriage rights, the theft of those poor children was perfectly legal. The second story involved a gay couple from Hawaii who had been together over 25 years. One night one of the men had a heart attack. The ambulance whisked him away, his partner not far behind. When the man's partner got to the hospital, he was told he would not be allowed into the room. He wasn't "family," said the hospital. For three (yes, three) days, he and his lawyers fought with the hospital. On the third day, the hospital informed him that he could finally see his partner of 25 years. His beloved partner was--they informed him--in the morgue.

I want lower taxes. I believe in the Second Amendment. But when I stand in the voting booth next to a man who believes that Jesus wants him to hate the fags or next to a woman who kicked her daughter out of the house because she was a lesbian or even next to a person who doesn't really know any better, but, goshdarnit "those people" freak him out so he better vote Republican and maybe they'll all go away, and, well, why the hell do those freaks need rights anyway?... I think of the kids. The kids being ripped out of mommy's arms. I think of the man. The man fighting for three long days just to see his soulmate as he lay dying in the hospital all alone. And until a brave national Republican candidate stands up and recognizes that this isn't a religious battle, it isn't an inconsequential tiff over some "special" rights for a fringe minority... until that "Grand Old Party" recognizes that the battle for gay rights is a battle for basic human rights, I'll be pulling the Democrat lever time and time and time again.

Go vote your conscience tomorrow and in the months to come.

Greed

This is an old post from my now-defunct Myspace blog. I'm going to post some of the older postings in reverse chronological order to put a little meat on the bones of this puppy.

Originally posted on Wednesday, January 23, 2008 .

Lk 12:15 - Be on guard against every form of greed; life is not in possessions.

So we've all pretty much decided we're heading toward a recession thanks to the housing market mess, right? And it's been fun to watch the pundits on television talk about the irresponsible lenders who sold bad loans (and/or excessively large loans) to people with questionable credit. No doubt, they deserve some of the blame. I've been working with a few different lenders to get my mortgage in order before I close on a condo next month, and it's remarkable even to them how much things have changed. With credit tightening, they want to see everything: bank statements, student loan statements, 401(k) statements, pay stubs… oh and you better have at least $10,000 in reserves on top of that 5% plus closing costs.

Until recently, you could do not only 100% mortgages, apparently you could do 110% mortgages. "Here! Take our money! We'll just rape you with interest payments!" A colleague of mine is refinancing and told me that when he bought his place a few years ago the paperwork was frighteningly minimal. "How much do you make? Oh, really? Great, sign here." As the banks change the requirements almost daily now, I'm left scratching my head and wondering, "Dear God, why aren't there laws on this crap?" Sure, all the paperwork I've had to dig up and time I've had to spend tracking down numbers for my lender is a pain in my bum, but unethical lending is made far too easy to perpetrate when all they basically do is ask you what your salary is and pull your credit score before they fork over hundreds of thousands of dollars. Why did no one see this coming? Is it really as simple as retarded Republican under-regulation? The older I get, the more moderate I become, but I'm still reminded of a speech I heard a business leader give to us in college once. "Business cannot regulate itself," he warned. "Greed will always rule the day if you don't lay down some rules."

So the banks and the lenders are guilty of shady deals in service of the big G: Greed. But at the end of the day, you really have to blame the retarded American consumer—already awash in debt—for overreaching with characteristic American greed. Some of these foreclosure stories reported in the press could almost be comedic if they weren't so pathetic. One in the New York Times was practically as ridiculous as the following: "Hi, I'm Bob, and I make $40,000/year being a handyman. My wife Suzy makes $30,000/year being a secretary. We were just shocked when our adjustable rate mortgage went up and we couldn't afford our $550,000, six-bedroom home anymore." Hel-LO? Adjustable rate mortgage? It adjusts? But no one explained that! And, what, we don't really need six bedrooms for three people? But we have to have more than the Joneses!

America has a habit of catering to stupid people. Every morning I walk by "Caution, Wet Floor" signs in the lobby of my law firm. Reeeally? The ground is covered in snow and there's a possibility that in the warm lobby—where snow from our shoes might melt into H20—there might be wet floors? Shocker. But not really. American tort law is responsible for all those stupid warning labels on products. Why? Because manufacturers are legally responsible not only for the intended uses of a product but also for the reasonably foreseeable but unintended uses of a product. Stuck the scissors in your eye? That's reasonably foreseeable. Better label those puppies as "sharp" before we get sued. Lame.

The New York Times reported today on a couple that is suing their real estate broker because, they claim, they overpaid for their house in San Diego, and he made false and misleading statements implicating that the house was worth the inflated price. On one hand, you feel a bit sorry for the couple. The broker is the "expert," and you rely on him to give you accurate information. On the other hand, this couple was educated and the house was worth over a million dollars. They must have understood that brokers collect a percentage of the selling price as their commission, so there's a built-in incentive to inflate the purchase price. Look at the comparable properties recently sold in the same neighborhood, retards! Legally, it's one thing if the agent told you a flat-out lie; it's quite another if he engaged in "mere puffery." Do your homework, shut your mouth, and realize it's because you were stupid that you overpaid.

Anyway, it's unfortunate that the credit crisis is going to result in lost jobs and depressed wages for a large sector of the economy when the blame seems to lie squarely in the hands of the greedy and the stupid. Banks: Stop giving large loans to people of modest means! Dumb people: stop overreaching! If you can't keep up with the Joneses, don't.

"Do unto others... as they want to be done by."

This is an old post from my now-defunct Myspace blog. I'm going to post some of the older postings in reverse chronological order to put a little meat on the bones of this puppy.

Originally posted on Friday, November 30, 2007.

It was a slow day at work. So I was discussing with my sister—who also holds an undergraduate degree in Philosophy and is therefore a big dork—the idea of the selfishness of the Golden Rule. The Golden Rule is found in all the world's major religions, with minor modifications, of course. But the well-known Christian version presumes an all-knowing "rightness" in all of life's matters. "Do unto others as you'd have done unto you." In other words, treat others the way you'd like to be treated.

At least two philosophers have questioned the wisdom of such a self-centered philosophy: George Bernard Shaw and Karl Popper. Shaw writes, "Do not do unto others as you would expect they should do unto you. Their tastes may not be the same." And Popper writes, "The golden rule is a good standard which is further improved by doing unto others, wherever possible, as they want to be done by." (Yes, I totally yanked that off Wikipedia for ease of use.) Kant hints at the idea, I think, by saying you should never treat people merely as means. "Act in such a way that you treat humanity, whether in your own person or in the person of any other, always at the same time as an end and never merely as a means." (Immanuel Kant, Metaphysics of Morals). To the extent you do not use people merely as means to accomplish your own moral goals, you're probably letting them choose their own moral paths…

Reformulated, shouldn't a better Golden Rule really be, "Treat others the way they want to be treated"? Perhaps you want to have people jam Jesus down your throat, for example. But perhaps someone else finds such behavior presumptuous, rude, and, if he doesn't agree with your religious ideals, just plain wrong. When the Soviet Union collapsed, my mother's church sent preachers to help save the souls of the "godless" nation. Inflation was so rampant that the price of bread sometimes doubled from one day to the next. Thousands of preachers roamed the streets in search of souls to save. Meanwhile, I can only imagine that most of the people just wanted some freakin' bread. Perhaps what we wanted--to save their wretched commie souls--wasn't quite as important as giving them what they wanted--some freakin' Wonderbread.

Taking the time to assess what's really important to someone else and then treating that person in a manner consistent with their desires is surely a kinder, gentler approach to life than presuming that what I want, you too should want. It's a point all too often lost on those who are so firm in their beliefs that they'll sacrifice friendships and even family relationships to cling to the belief that it is their job to save the world… and all else be damned! As Jawaharlal Nehru put it, "Let us be a little humble; let us think that the truth may not perhaps be entirely with us."

Roids - does a body good

This is an old post from my now-defunct Myspace blog. I'm going to post some of the older postings in reverse chronological order to put a little meat on the bones of this puppy.

Originally posted on Saturday, October 13, 2007.

So Marion Jones lost her gold. Girl was juicin'. Barry Bonds has the creme and the clear. That disgusting roided out WWE "wrestler" killed his family and himself recently. It's all about the roids, baby. Some professional sports commentator wrote a very thoughtful piece on the meaning of fair play when these steroid stories all began to break. He waxed philosophically that one of the reasons people love sports so much is because professional athletes are a more perfect version of ourselves. We like that we are able to look at someone and say, "With enough training, dedication, and some good genes, I could do that too." (Just watch the movie Gattaca and tell me you don't get a little fire in your belly.) When something illegal and unnatural is thrown into the mix, the fantasy is tarnished. It's no longer Rocky doing pull ups in a barn and running up a steep mountain to train, it's the Russian in the lab getting injected. ( Rocky IV--check it.) That commentator had a sad conclusion, though. He suggested that we have progressed as a society to point where we (1) expect the superhuman performance of these superhuman athletes and (2) have almost come to expect that they're going to cheat, so why care? It would be hard to go back now.

The commentator wrote with a sense of sadness that we have come to this point. But isn't this really just the natural endpoint of all quests for perfection in a particular discipline? It's funny, law firms give presentations on "work-life balance" and how attorneys need to make time for exercise, family, and friends... and then slam you with work. Few bosses, few sports fans, few art lovers care if their subordinate/athlete/artist has a happy family life. The world's greatest thinkers and inventors have all been dedicated lunatics. Edison invented the light bulb because he only slept a few hours each night, believing that sleep was a waste of time. Passionate artists throw themselves into their work and forget to eat. So why not pump our athletes full of steroids and watch them compete for TV time and endorsements? It's the modern day equivalent of Roman gladiator battles, except that armchair sports fans are the Roman emperors calling the shots each time they tune in, buy a jersey, or attend the stadium. The best of the best have always forsaken life, limb, and relationships to BE the best of the best. Why stop them now? So to Marion, Barry, and dead WWE guy I say: Shoot up! Entertain me!

Psychotherapy

This is an old post from my now-defunct Myspace blog. I'm going to post some of the older postings in reverse chronological order to put a little meat on the bones of this puppy.

Originally posted on Monday, August 13, 2007.

So I just reread a great book I had to read for my Existentialism and Phenomenology class as an undergrad: Love's Executioner and Other Tales of Psychotherapy by Irvin Yalom, M.D. Yalom is a professor at Stanford and is regarded as one of the best psychotherapists alive today. The book is a great read if you think you're normal because some of his patients are pretty messed up. At the same time, they're all struggling with the same basic truths we all must eventually face. Definitely worth reading... go buy a used copy, or if you're a Chicagoan, borrow mine.

(Only $0.01 used at Amazon. Gotta love the Internets! http://www.amazon.com/Loves-Executioner-Other-Tales-Psychotherapy/dp/006097334X)

According to Illinois, I am a hazard to myself

This is an old post from my now-defunct Myspace blog. I'm going to post some of the older postings in reverse chronological order to put a little meat on the bones of this puppy.

Originally posted on Saturday, July 14, 2007.

I tried to go tanning to take a precious 20 minute break from studying. The lovely lady at the salon told me, "No." Why, you ask? Because I tanned less than 24 hours ago. Illinois law mandates that no one shall tan twice in the span of 24 hours. Gee, thanks for protecting me from, um, myself. I'm glad the geniuses in Springfield have nothing better to do than worry about the pigmentation of my skin. For you non-Land of Lincoln tanners, Illinois law also requires that you show the tanning attendant your goggles before you are permitted to tan. "Look, ma! I brought eye protection just like the statute requires!" As much as I love my cataract-free eyes, I sometimes want to strip nekkid, turn on the switch, and leave the goggles on the table near the tanning bed... just to stick it to The Man.

But after I was denied at the salon, it got me thinking about how I hate oppressive, retarded legislative attempts to save us from ourselves--like motorcycle helmet laws, for example. I do not own a motorized bike, and if I did, I'd wear a helmet, considering I rather enjoy my brain (and it's not paid off yet). But I support anyone's right to splatter their brains on the freeway. This is America, after all.

The trans fat ban that just went into effect in NYC--also lame. If I want to clog my arteries by the time I'm 30, that's my God-given right. Go USA!

However, I draw the line with kids. I think governments can--and should--ban fatty foods in public schools. (And make the little rugrats exercise too.) If you're under 18, you're an "infant" in the eyes of the law, and the state has a responsibility for your well being.

Once you turn 18, however, ride your motorcycle (helmetless) to the tanning salon and stop by the hot dog vendor on the way. That, my friends, is called freedom. And if you disagree, you want the terrorists to win. :)

The Gay Gym

This is an old post from my now-defunct Myspace blog. I'm going to post some of the older postings in reverse chronological order to put a little meat on the bones of this puppy.

Originally posted on Monday, May 21, 2007.

So I joined a gay gym. Not because it was gay, really, but because it's the closest one to where I live in Chicago. Here are my observations--some good, some bad.

1. Eighties short shorts are apparently back. Who knew?

2. Eighties short shorts look significantly better on 20-somethings than on men who were in their 20s in the Eighties.

3. Most gay men spend more time on their hair before they go to the gym than average people spend before Picture Day.

4. Gay men are polite when you want to use their piece of equipment. (Heh heh.)

5. Steroids look scary at 50.

6. The women at gay gyms are among the safest women in the world.

7. And finally, Underarmour clothing only looks nice if you do not have a giant potbelly. Remember, dear readers, spandex is a privilege... not a right.

Volition - it's kind of, like, the opposite of no choice

This is an old post from my now-defunct Myspace blog. I'm going to post some of the older postings in reverse chronological order to put a little meat on the bones of this puppy.

Originally posted on Monday, April 30, 2007.

Words are a powerful thing. I appreciated that as a psych student; I appreciate it even more as a law student. (There has, by the way, been an entire Supreme Court case over a misplaced comma.) While we all misspeak and misspell now and then, there's one thing that's been grating on my nerves hardcore lately: the abandonment of responsibility that comes when people use non-volitional words to describe volitional acts.

Psychologists will tell you that no one really "makes" you angry. You choose to be angry. OK, if someone shoots your best friend in the face while you're standing there, it's more likely that you'll become angry (after wetting your pants), but it's still not a proximal result. To the extent such things are quick emotional cues, I suppose I could even agree to the idea that these are somewhere in the gray area between "choice" and "instant emotion."

But volitional acts devoid of emotion are an entirely different matter. One I recently heard was "I'm just not good at replying to e-mail." Well, isn't that delightful? You've just taken a completely volitional act (choosing to respond or not to respond to someone) and by using the magic of the English language, you've turned it into a personality trait that just is. It's one reason psychologists caution against the overuse of descriptive nouns. Yes, technically if you lie, you're a liar, at least at that moment. But once branded a liar, a person may feel that that's just who he is. Why change? It's just me!

"I'm just not good at replying to e-mail." No, you choose not to reply to e-mail. Maybe instead you got a cup of coffee, BSed with your co-workers, stepped outside for a smoke--all volitional choices. Maybe I'm just whining po-tay-to vs. po-taa-to here, but for Christ's sake people, accept responsibility for your lives. If you're "not good" at a simple volitional act that you're perfectly capable of doing, try a new sentence next time and say something like, "I just chose not to e-mail you back because I chose to do something else instead."

Mother knows best

This is an old post from my now-defunct Myspace blog. I'm going to post some of the older postings in reverse chronological order to put a little meat on the bones of this puppy.

Originally posted Thursday, April 19, 2007.

Today was my last day of class. Ever. I called my mom and told her to raise a glass of grape juice in celebration. (She doesn't drink.) Later in the evening she sent me this instant message while I was getting ready to go out:

Paul we are very proud of you. We always have been. I'm so happy for you that you are finally done. Now all your hard work will start paying off. Please always remember that when you were small and still at home I could help take care of you. But for a long time now you have to take care of you. So be your own best friend. It isn't selfish to be good to your own body, soul, spirit, heart, and mind so take a little time each day to do this. Don't party too hard or long. I miss you and love you with all my heart. :)

Supreme Court on "Partial-Birth" Abortions

This is an old post from my now-defunct Myspace blog. I'm going to post some of the older postings in reverse chronological order to put a little meat on the bones of this puppy.

Originally posted on Wednesday, April 18, 2007.

Today the U.S. Supreme Court upheld a ban on what some call "partial-birth abortions." The term, by the way, is sheer propaganda. It makes it sound like the fetus is naturally on its way out... it's not. Labor is induced and the fetus is dilated and extracted. It's not the prettiest process since the fetus is late-term and beginning to resemble a baby, but it's not exactly "birth." Regardless of your position on abortion (and even late-term abortions), you should at least be skeptical of anyone using inaccurate language in order to make their case...

In any case, today the Court upheld (in a 5-4 ruling) the Partial Birth Abortion Act of 2003. Justice Kennedy wrote the majority opinion and noted, "The Act is open to a proper as-applied challenge in a discrete case. No as-applied challenge need be brought if the prohibition in the Act threatens a woman's life because the Act already contains a life exception." He also wrote, "There is documented medical disagreement whether the Act's prohibition would ever impose significant health risks on women. ... The question becomes whether the Act can stand when this medical uncertainty persists. The court's precedents instruct that the Act can survive this facial attack."

Justice Ginsburg (the only woman on the Court) wrote for the dissenters. She writes, "Today's decision is alarming. It refuses to take Casey and Stenberg seriously. It tolerates, indeed applauds, federal intervention to ban nationwide a procedure found necessary and proper in certain cases by the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists." She continues, "Retreating from prior rulings that abortion restrictions cannot be imposed absent an exception safeguarding a woman's health, the court upholds an Act that surely would not survive under the close scrutiny that previous attended state-decreed limitations on a woman's reproductive services."

Stenberg was a 2000 decision. It held a Nebraska law unconstitutional due its lack of protections for the mother's health. The 2003 federal law speaks to a woman's life. It is interesting that Justice Kennedy speaks only of the "life exception" and says that makes the current law constitutional, whereas Justice Ginsburg correctly reads Stenberg as requiring that any abortion law make exceptions for the mother's health. Oh well, I guess if you're a woman and your health is in severe jeopardy, but it's questionable whether you're going to die, then the doctor has to decide if he will perform the procedure (and risk the punishment: fine or imprisonment up to 2 years) or tell the woman, "Sorry, but a bunch of a white men in Washington tell me I can't touch you." (See this lovely picture of the signing of the law.)

"Nappy headed hos"

This is an old post from my now-defunct Myspace blog. I'm going to post some of the older postings in reverse chronological order to put a little meat on the bones of this puppy.

Originally posted on Wednesday, April 11, 2007.

So MSNBC dropped Imus after his comments that the Rutgers women's basketball team was a bunch of "nappy headed hos." Sponsors were pulling their advertisements left and right. The president of NBC goes on CNN and says that it wasn't worth losing the station's "reputation" by retaining Imus. Apparently Imus also works with CBS, and as someone on Anderson Cooper 360 noted, CBS owns Interscope Records--a label replete with gangsta rap, which, of course, is all about puppy dogs and sunshine and rainbows. Double standard? Nah... it's OK when it's gangsta rap because it's "cultural"... or something.

Obviously, Imus said something stupid. One might even argue that as a radio show host he has a greater moral responsibility to watch his words. OK, fine. But tonight an angry commentator on CNN said we need to have a "zero tolerance" policy for such words. And I wish I would have been in the studio to slap him silly. Zero tolerance? For words? Really? How about a zero tolerance policy for all the criminals out there? "Nappy headed hos" isn't even the worst words I can think of. If we're going to fire people over three little words, how about imposing the death sentence on the next guy in Detroit who steals a pack of gum? After all, zero tolerance, right? Get a grip, nutbags. Maybe if you spent 1/10th as much time worrying about fixing crime as you did about people with potty mouths, we'd be able walk without fear on our streets. (For those of you not in Columbus, this week a girl was abducted at knife-point and raped... two blocks from my apartment. Last week a Wendys was robbed and the manager was knifed... a few blocks north of me. Between March 23rd and March 28th, no less than six forceful robberies were committed in the campus area.)

The only thing worse than the fact that morons are making this a bigger deal than it ought to be is that the media keeps covering it because racist and sexist issues are the new pink. Honestly, people, we have a stem cell research bill that passed the Senate this week. We have dozens more dying in Iraq. We have an interesting French presidential election where a woman might be elected for the first time. We have 16" of snow in Cleveland! Can we get off "nappy headed hos" already? Because I just got off one. Boy-yah!

Why military leaders want you all to die

This is an old post from my now-defunct Myspace blog. I'm going to post some of the older postings in reverse chronological order to put a little meat on the bones of this puppy.

Originally posted on Monday, March 12, 2007.


So the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Peter Pace, was quoted in the Chicago Tribune as saying he thought homosexuality was immoral and that he supported the military's ban on openly gay soldiers. No big surprise there. Pace also had nothing to say about the more than 50 homosexuals who have been discharged from our military who were Arabic language specialists. This, I suppose, isn't surprising either. What could he really say? Because if he was forced to address it, a good journalist could easily corner him with something like, "So you think the safety of all Americans is less important than what a soldier does in the privacy of his or her bedroom?" And, sadly, that's what it boils down to.

After 9/11 the U.S. government realized it was short on Arabic language specialists. Indeed, I saw some government official go on TV and ask anyone trained in Arabic to step forward and help the country in its time of need. I also happened to be reading the New York Times a few days after 9/11, and buried in small paragraph in the middle of the paper was a news snippet about three U.S. soldiers who were Arabic language specialists who had just been dismissed for being gay. Why there wasn't more outrage over this, I'll never know. But it's disgusting that there are religious nutbags in Washington (including W himself), who talk endlessly of wanting to protect "Amurica," while they kick out men and women with a crucial language skill--a skill that's perhaps one of the best weapons we have in the "War on Terrur." Quite frankly, I don't care if an Arabic-trained soldier is a child molester... let him serve! Keep him locked in a room away from children with only a box of recordings to translate, but let the man do his job!

There are lots of dumb things about America that I look at and say, "One day future generations will look back and laugh at us for this." (Artificial Christmas trees being one such thing, but that's a wholly different topic.) But kicking out soldiers because they happen to be gay when they possess an absolutely vital skill isn't something we'll laugh about; we'll look back one day and say, "How dangerously retarded"... if we don't get blown up by some other religious nutbags first.

Muslims Swearing on the Koran... Oh my!

This is an old post from my now-defunct Myspace blog. I'm going to post some of the older postings in reverse chronological order to put a little meat on the bones of this puppy.

Originally posted on Friday, December 08, 2006.

So the media is reporting that America's first Muslim congressman wants to take the oath of office on the Koran. (http://www.csmonitor.com/2006/1207/p01s03-uspo.html) And the conservative nutjobs are having a field day. This is a Christian country, after all. I mean, never mind that the Constitution includes a passage that reads: "The senators and representatives ... shall be bound by oath or affirmation to support this Constitution; but no religious test shall ever be required as a qualification to any office or public trust under the United States." As the article notes, there's no real placing of the hand on any book for Members of Congress. Unlike the swearing in of the President, Members of Congress just raise one hand and state their oath. All the representative wanted to do was carry his Koran with him.

Interestingly absent from all this discussion of swearing is the absolute unChristianness of taking an oath at all. According to James 5:12, "But above all things, my brethren, swear not, neither by heaven, neither by the earth, neither by any other oath: but let your yea be yea; and your nay, nay; lest ye fall into condemnation." In other words, if you're a Christian, you're always under oath! Tell the truth! It's the height of hypocrisy that every day in this country well-meaning courts make people swear an oath on top of a book, the very taking of which indicates their lack of knowledge of what lurks inside of it. (To be fair, people are allowed to "affirm" the oath as well, which gets around the whole swearing bit...)

Rodney King

This is an old post from my now-defunct Myspace blog. I'm going to post some of the older postings in reverse chronological order to put a little meat on the bones of this puppy.

Originally posted on Monday, November 20, 2006.

Rodney King--as many of you will remember--was the black gentleman beaten by the LAPD in the 90s, which was caught on videotape by a nearby witness. The acquittal of the officers who had beaten Rodney spawned the LA riots. Rodney appeared before television cameras as the riots were raging--still bearing his bruises--and asked LA and perhaps even America, "People, I just want to say, you know, can we all get along?"

While I guess we're not beating each other into a pulp, Rodney's plea crosses my mind quite frequently when I go out to the gay bars in Columbus. His words spring to consciousness when I see the anger and sadness in the online profiles of some gay men who are 50 and still single. This isn't to say I want to lock arms and sing kumbaya with all the homos of the world--hell, I don't even like most of them. Nor is it to imply that all older gay men are searching for the love of their lives online--some may be perfectly content finding a new man-of-the-evening every night. But there is a hint of detectable sadness in every combative queen at the club and in every guarded online profile. Civility, it would seem, is a word conspicuously lacking from most of our vocabularies.

My mama raised me to be super nice. Overly nice. Obnoxiously nice. I took that attitude to my first gay bar in Rochester, NY, when I was 18. An older gentleman talked to me at the bar. I was polite and chatted with him for a few minutes. When I tried to politely excuse myself to go find my friends, he grew quite angry. He had mistaken my politeness as overt flirtation and asked why I wasn't coming home with him. Somehow, in his mind, by talking to him for a few minutes, I had agreed to have sex with him that night. That night--during my first trip to a gay bar--I learned to be a jerk. Moderating my generally (I hope) pleasant personality with the demands of gay culture has been a challenge ever since.

There are a million reasons that gay bars are an interesting psychological maze. As gay men, we don't start to date until too late in life. We have fewer people with whom we can share our feelings and learn about love and loss at an appropriately formative age. We deal in a subculture that remains catty for a variety of reasons... although the problem is by no means ours exclusively. My mom told me she was at a hotel bar with some friends of hers a few years back. (She would have been in her early 50s.) A guy approached her. She politely talked to him. He told her she was one of the prettiest women he had ever seen. She thanked him. He asked her to go home and have sex, and she explained that she was married and was just there with female friends. He proceeded to call her a bitch and told her to go to Hell. She marveled that she had gone from one of the prettiest women alive to a bitch in a matter of moments. And why? Because she had--in this man's mind--rejected him.

This sad insecurity is heightened in a stigmatized community such as the homo world. I guess I can see why it happens. I just don't understand why it needs to continue to happen. I'd like to be able to sit down at the bar and smile at the white-haired gentleman on the bar stool next to me and chat about anything or nothing. But far too often that's turned into a sexual proposition. (Mind you, I don't think that I'm "all that and a bag of chips." Nonetheless, because those gentlemen recognize the same lesson I learned in Rochester when I was 18: don't socialize at the bar or guys will mistake it for an invitation to go home with you.) So I stick my nose up a bit and look straight ahead and order my drink. I don't want the hassle, nor do I want to hurt someone's feelings. I don't like it, but it's what we do...

"Can we all get along?" Probably not. But we could be a bit nicer.

Postscript: Reading this now in 2009, I have to laugh, because I'm now in that lovely middle ground: young enough to be considered "young" by the old gays; old enough to be considered "ew" by the young gays. I have seen my own polite smiles and words misconstrued by bright-eyed 21 year-olds as an attempt to pick them up. On my good days, I laugh it off. On my not-so-good days, I'm tempted to say, "Don't flatter yourself, Mary. You won't be that pretty in five years. But I still will be."

I'm bringing sterilization back. These pussy liberals don't know how to act.

This is an old post from my now-defunct Myspace blog. I'm going to post some of the older postings in reverse chronological order to put a little meat on the bones of this puppy.

Originally posted on Tuesday, November 14, 2006.

It's been said that conservatives make little sense when it comes to abortion because they care so much about the fetus--it has alllll these rights--until it pops out of the woman's body and then--bam--suddenly it's no longer a very important problem. Money for childcare? Noooo. Money for public schools? Forget it. But remember, mom, you still gotta have the thing! It's not your right to terminate the pregnancy... it's only your right to take care of it for 18 years. Lucky you.

Some of my classmates were whining about abortion today and how the fetus should have a Fifth and Fourteenth Amendment due process right to life. Blah blah blah. "Life" is such a silly concept in the abstract. Yes, pop the child out so it can breathe and, um, starve. Or breathe and get no education. Yeah, that's a "life." Get real, people. Even if you're 100% anti-abortion AND 100% anti-welfare and therefore believe that it's a woman's responsibility to give birth no matter what, you must then at least realize that you're not giving that child anything resembling what you or I would consider a "life." I'm not exactly pro-welfare, mind you. But no matter how you look at it--economically, from the standpoint of libertarianism, from the standpoint of personal autonomy--it makes sense to attack the problem at the roots. Perhaps the humane thing to do is to realize that "life" is more than oxygen, food, and water. (Hint, hint, Terri Schiavo's parents.) Let people end big mistakes before they become even bigger mistakes. That thought led me to an old quotation from a pre-WWII forced sterilization case here in the U.S.:

[T]he public welfare may call upon the best citizens for their lives. It would be strange if it could not call upon those who already sap the strength of the State for these lesser sacrifices, often not felt to be such by those concerned, in order to prevent our being swamped with incompetence. It is better for all the world, if instead of waiting to execute degenerate offspring for crime, or to let them starve for their imbecility, society can prevent those who are manifestly unfit from continuing their kind. The principle that sustains compulsory vaccination is broad enough to cover cutting the Fallopian tubes. Three generations of imbeciles are enough.

Buck v. Bell, 274 U.S. 200, 207 (1927).

Of course, we could never do this today. We're too "humane" nowadays. Now we just have nutbags outside abortion clinics with bullhorns demanding that women have babies that they can't support. At the end of the day those same nutbags return home to their cozy houses replete with shelves of Bibles. On Election Day they vote against any possible tax that would help those women. At night they go to bed thinking God is proud of them. Yup, we're real humane here in the U.S.

Funny Warning Labels

This is an old post from my now-defunct Myspace blog. I'm going to post some of the older postings in reverse chronological order to put a little meat on the bones of this puppy.

Originally posted on Sunday, October 22, 2006.

Some examples of why the human race has probably evolved as far as possible.

These are actual instruction labels on consumer goods.

On Sears hairdryer: Do not use while sleeping.

On a bag of Fritos: You could be a winner! No purchase necessary. Details inside. (The shoplifter special!)

On a bar of Dial soap: Directions: Use like regular soap. (And that would be how?)

On some Swann frozen dinners: Serving suggestion: Defrost. (But it's just a suggestion!)

On Tesco's Tiramisu dessert: (printed on bottom of the box) Do not turn upside down. (Too late! you lose!)

On packaging for a Rowenta iron: Do not iron clothes on body.

On Boot's Children's cough medicine: Do not drive car or operate machinery. (We could do a lot to reduce the construction accidents if we just kept those 5 year olds off those fork lifts.)

On Nytol sleep aid: Warning: may cause drowsiness.

On a Korean kitchen knife: Warning: keep out of children. (Hmm... something must have gotten lost in the translation.)

On a string of Christmas lights: For indoor or outdoor use only. (As opposed to use in outer space.)

On an American Airlines packet of nuts: Instructions: open packet, eat nuts.

On a Swedish chainsaw: Do not attempt to stop chain with your hands. (Raise your hand if you've tried this...)

On a child's Superman costume: Wearing of this garment does not enable you to fly. (Oh go ahead! That's right, destroy a universal childhood belief.)

Mayor Ray Nagin - Genius or Moron? I'm not sure.

This is an old post from my now-defunct Myspace blog. I'm going to post some of the older postings in reverse chronological order to put a little meat on the bones of this puppy.

Originally posted on Wednesday, October 04, 2006.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20061002/ap_on_re_us/nagin_minority_businesses

On October 2nd, Mayor Ray Nagin of New Orleans signed an executive order that required firms seeking tax incentives and grants for Katrina reconstruction to use at least 50% local businesses and 35% women- or minority-owned businesses "whenever possible." Interestingly, in 1989, the U.S. Supreme Court struck down as unconstitutional a very similar plan in Richmond, Virginia, which had required all contractors doing business with the city to subcontract at least 30% of all work to minority-owned businesses. Richmond v. J. A. Croson Co., 488 U.S. 469 (1989).

I wonder if this gets litigated if the courts will make a distinction between Nagin's plan and Croson because Nagin's plan applies only to those firms that are seeking tax incentives and grants from the government. Law dorks will note that the Court is very good at splitting hairs when it comes to equal rights as long as cities or states are using the carrot and not the stick. The whole gay rights debacle involving military recruiters on campus, Rumsfeld v. Forum for Academic & Institutional Rights, was a good example. At issue there was whether law schools could give military recruiters less-than-full access to a gay student's file (or not let military recruiters come on campus at all) because the military's "Don't ask, Don't Tell" policy conflicted with the schools' anti-discrimination policies and First Amendment free speech rights (by "compelling" the universities to speak in a way they otherwise would not). The government threatened to withhold millions of dollars in aid if the schools did not comply. In part, the Supreme Court held that no one was really making the schools do anything; the schools just weren't going to get government money if they didn't comply. As my Con Law professor was fond of saying, "Yous pays your money and yous takes your chances." Similarly, I wonder if Nagin's plan will be found constitutional if for no other reason than the fact that it isn't an across-the-board affirmative action plan, but only applies to those seeking federal grants for reconstruction. Regardless, it seems awfully unfair to me to tell the lowest bidder—whatever genitalia they possess or skin color they wear—that they cannot do the work because they're not eligible for the money (and to complete the work without the grant would put them over cost). This is Mayor Nagin, however—not the brightest crayon in the box.

Why the Hell of Law Journal Proves Communism Sucks

This is an old post from my now-defunct Myspace blog. I'm going to post some of the older postings in reverse chronological order to put a little meat on the bones of this puppy.

Originally posted Wednesday, September 27, 2006.

I was a big political theory geek in undergrad. Unwilling to accept that capitalism was the way to go, I fashioned myself as a communist. Then I took Political Theory with Dr. Nancy Love. (Yes, that's really her name, and, yes, she's lovely.) Aside from the wacky notions of human nature that Karl Marx espoused, the only thing I really remember from the Commie section of the class was the tractor. If you live on a commune and share a tractor, when you're done at the end of the day, what do you do? Why, you let it sit there, of course! Why the hell fill it up with gas when the next guy to use the tractor isn't going to be you?! Whenever I see Commie hippies preaching the communal way of life, I think of my friend the tractor. But today I've discovered a better metaphor: Law Journal.

For you non-law students (read: people bright enough to avoid this living hell), Law Journal exists so that law professors can send their poorly written articles to a group of poorly trained law students in some lame attempt to fix the articles so they can be published in some journal that no one ever reads. Our journal goes through three stages of checking: the Accuracy Check, the Double Check, and the Page Proof. As a third-year law student, I supervise the second-year students up through the Page Proof, but when the damn articles fall in my lap after the Page Proof, it's my job to make sure these 100+ page monstrosities are in perfect shape. And here, my friends, is why Law Journal proves that Communism sucks big monkey balls: Because even after three checks, the damn things still land in my lap looking like a big pile of steaming dog poo. Any system of government (or way of life) that involves passing the buck is sure to falter when the chain of command reaches its weakest link.

Therefore, instead of Communism or even Representative Democracy, I propose Radical Democracy: elected representatives who stake their reputations (and lives) on successfully doing their jobs. Miss that vote in the Senate today, Mr. Santorum? I'm sorry, you'll have to be the target at target practice for the Secret Service this afternoon.

Saving them from themselves

The Wall Street Journal posted a story today about how tourism in the slums of Mumbai has skyrocketed following the success of the now-Oscar laden Slumdog Millionaire (which I've not yet seen). The article closes with these lines regarding the dangerous jobs that many of the locals must pursue:

People disassemble, burn and clean the hazardous material without the slightest protection. I saw a man using filthy water and his bare hands to clean metal barrels that once held industrial chemicals. Mr. Pujari says the government is trying to close the Dharavi recycling operations for health reasons, but residents are resisting fiercely because it is their only income source.

The quotation reminded me of some political commentary I heard a few years back regarding sweatshops. As a moderate liberal, I had always been on the side of those pushing for higher environmental standards and better protection for workers and children in third world countries. And then one day I read an amazing piece by a conservative who posed the issue roughly thus: if one country restricts sweatshops, the manufacturers will simply move their operations elsewhere; instead of making a few dollars per day, the "protected" workers will now make nothing.

I have struggled with that commentator's position ever since. In a perfect world, of course, labor laws would be universal and uniformly enforced. We do not live in anything approximating a perfect world. So is that commentator's position really the best possibility for a person who is fighting for survival right here and right now? Should we let people put their own health at risk if they need to do so, because $2/day is really better than starving to death?

Liberals are often accused of thinking they're smarter than other people and consequently telling those people what's "good for them." Generally, liberals are smarter... and they do know what's good for you. (Just watch Wife Swap once in a while.) But here I think the left (think: Greenpeace and child labor organizations) might be missing the boat. If you're only given two options, something is better than nothing. And while it's horrible to think that someone might be choosing between (1) almost-certain cancer from their high risk job in a third world slum and (2) mere survival, if those are the only two options on the table, who are we to effectively strip them of their jobs while we work out the kinks in a more just global workplace?

Well, hello there

Dear Friends,

One day, I will die. And what a better gift to give the world than my random collection of moderately coherent thoughts? This blog will be a place to spill whatever is on my mind into the interwebs, though it will probably end up focusing mainly on politics, civil rights, legal decisions, ethics, relationships, and other largely boring topics. It's also a good way to keep my psuedo-Amish sister--who steadfastly refuses to join Facebook--in the loop.

Any and all comments are welcome. And in the wise words of Alice Roosevelt Longworth,"If you haven't got anything nice to say about anybody, come sit next to me." Had she been alive today, one suspects Alice might have added, "...and write something anonymous and snarky on my blog."

Godspeed.