Letters to Santa

Dear Santa,

I wud like a kool toy space ranjur fer Xmas. Iv ben a gud boy all yeer.

yer Frend, BiLLy

Dear Billy,

Nice spelling. You're on your way to a career in lawn care. How about I send you a friggin' book so you can learn to read and write? I'm giving your older brother the space ranger. At least HE can spell!

Santa
____________________________________________________________________
Dear Santa,

I have been a good girl all year, and the only thing I ask for is peace and joy in the world for everybody!

Love, Sarah

Dear Sarah,

Your parents smoked pot when they had you, didn't they?

Santa
_________________________________________________________________
Dear Santa,

I don't know if you can do this, but for Christmas, I'd like for my mommy and daddy to get back together. Please, see what you can do?

Love, Teddy

Dear Teddy,

Look, your dad's banging the babysitter like a screen door in a hurricane. Do you think he's gonna give that up to come back to your frigid mom, who rides his ass constantly? It's time to give up that dream. Let me get you some nice Legos instead.

Santa
_________________________________________________________________
Dear Santa,

I really really want a puppy this year. Please please please PLEASE PLEASE could I have one?

Timmy

Timmy,

That whiney begging shit may work with your folks, but that crap doesn't work with me. You're getting a sweater again.

Santa
________________________________________________________________
Dearest Santa,

We don't have a chimney in our house, how do you get into our home?

Love, Marky

Mark,

First, stop calling yourself "Marky." That's why you're getting your ass whipped at school. Second, you don't live in a house, you live in a low-rent apartment complex. Third, I get inside your pad just like the boogeyman does,
through your bedroom window. Sweet dreams!

Santa

Hearsay Exceptions Movie

OV forwarded this to TB, who forwarded it to me. Viva la hearsay exceptions!!

Also, I'll soon be finished with my Evidence outline. I'm in Professor Stensvaag's class. If anyone would like a copy of my outline, please email my friend Edward at edward dot jones at uiowa dot edu. He'll gladly send you one. You get an outline. I get good test karma. We all win!

Me + Ugliest Dog

Me + Ugliest Dog
Originally uploaded by stan12341234.

Mysterious someone

Hey lovers,

I've been holed up in my apartment for days, desperately trying to learn something, ANYTHING about tax before my final on Thursday. My only salvation has been an outline forwarded to me by that sexy strumpet DH. Love you!

When I came to my carrel this morning, I found a piece of paper with a picture of Madonna and the following words:

"I'll be the garden, you'll be the snake.
All of my fruit is yours to take . . .
You have exams, don't be a flake.
All of the A's are yours to make!

Good Luck, Sexy Edward
xoxo Madonna"

I'm not sure who gave me that sweet, sweet present, but it might be the same person who photoshopped and sent me the picture above!

'tis the season

Classes are over! Masala, here I come, in celebration! Oh wait, we still have finals. Dang it.

I am now prepared to admit that I've been listening to Christmas music for weeks. I have quite a bit of holiday music on my iPod. But I'd have to say my favorite album is Mariah Carey's Merry Christmas. Or maybe the South Park Christmas album, Mr. Hankey's Christmas Classics.

Also, check out White Trash Christmas.

What are your favorite Christmas songs/albums?

My fantasy . . .
Originally uploaded by stan12341234.

damn!
Originally uploaded by stan12341234.

World's ugliest dog dies

Check out the article, here.

My favorite part is that the woman's boyfriend left her because the dog was so ugly.

Turkey Day

Hello sweet bitches.

I had a lovely Thanksgiving. You may remember that I spent last Thanksgiving with my aunt and uncle in the Quad Cities. You may also remember that my aunt's cat pissed on my toothbrush. Specifically, I awoke to a whoosing sound and looked across the room to see the cat stretched out with its paws against the wall, emitting a stream of urine that created a perfect arc ending right on my toothbrush!

Last night I made sure there were no cats in my bedroom before I closed the door securely. This morning I sat down in the living room and watched The Hunchback of Notre Dame. When I got up, I realized my ass was wet. After some inspection, I realized I had been sitting in a puddle of cat piss for two hours. There must have been some malfunction in the part of my nervous system that alerts my brain that my ass is covered in stinking, steaming feline urine.

Note aside: Does anyone have outlines for Stensvaag's Evidence, Johnson's Electronic Media, or Acton's Trusts & Estates courses? If you do, please email my good friend at edward dash jones at uiowa dot edu. Thanks!

Madonna is the sexiest woman EVER

I have been listening to Madonna's new CD, Confessions on a Dance Floor. Every time I listen to it, I ache with pleasure.

Have you seen the video? It's all about Madonna with her yoga-toned body, crawling around on the dance floor, waving her coochie in our collective face, humping things. It doesn't get any better than that!

My favorite lyric:
I'll be the garden, you'll be the snake /
All of my fruit is yours to take.

So here's the skinny on me: I GOT A JOB IN NEW YORK!!!!!!! There is a God. After scratching, kicking, and clawing my way east all semester, I finally duped a New York law firm into offering me summer employment! Yes, I will be a slave to a big, evil firm. But I'll be a slave in NEW YORK, the cultural center of the world.

(A note about tone: I thought about not even posting the above paragraph because it might seem boastful or insensitive, given that some others have not had the same luck in their job search. I mean only to express my happiness here, and my very real belief that this good fortune is as much a result of pure luck as it is of hard work or anything else.)

So now it's difficult to get motivated for finals. As a friend said today (after observing that I let all my classes go in favor of callbacks), "We used to think Stan was all about law school. Now we realize that Stan was really about getting a job the entire time." I can't say that's entirely untrue.

But I also feel that there's a finite amount of work a person can do in one semester. And after writing a 40-page note, doing AAI, heading up an EJF fundraiser, doing OCI and callbacks, and being a research assistant, I'm reaching my limit. All this combined with my growing sense of dread, that no matter what I do my grade in Federal Taxation will not be pretty. (My only salvation in this regard will be an outline and study guide given to me by the ever-sexy DH.)

HAPPY THANKSGIVING everyone!!

Originally uploaded by stan12341234.

Originally uploaded by stan12341234.

good catch

Anonymous said...
shouldn't the title of your post been: "you knew this was cumming"

It's great to know that my readers are as dirty-minded as I am! As a reward, I will post some hot pics of Alan Cumming, advertising his new fragrance, "Cumming."

Check out the website, complete with body cleanser ("Cumming Clean"), body lotion ("Cumming All Over"), and soap ("Cumming in a Bar").

that crazy Seventh Circuit

The trial transcript quotes Ms. Hayden as saying Murphy called her a snitch bitch “hoe.” A “hoe,” of course, is a tool used for
weeding and gardening. We think the court reporter, unfamiliar with rap music (perhaps thankfully so), misunderstood Hayden’s
response. We have taken the liberty of changing “hoe” to “ho,” a staple of rap music vernacular as, for example, when Ludacris
raps “You doin’ ho activities with ho tendencies.”

United States v. Murphy, 406 F.3d 857, 859 & n.1 (7th Cir. 2005).

you knew this was coming

Check out this list of porn titles "based on real movies."
(Thanks to the ever-sexy tax goddess E, who sent me the link!)

My favorites:

Sperms of Endearment
Romancing The Bone
On Golden Blonde
Jurassic Pork
The Sperminator
Cum And Cummer
White Men Can't Hump
Snatch Adams
Schindler's Fist
Riding Miss Daisy
Inspect Her Gadget
American Booty
Bonfire of the Panties
The Bone Ranger
Glad-He-Ate-Her
Caddysnatch
My Bare Lady
Men in Back
Spray it Forward
The Legend in Bagger's Pants
Great Sexpectations
Six Degrees of Penetration
Womb Raider
Saturday Night Beaver
Honey, I Shanked The Kids
Lord Of The Cock Rings
Booty & The Beast
Chitty Chitty Gang Bang
Add Momma To The Train
Breast Side Story
The Porn Identity
Charlie's Anals
Twat Lies Beneath
Eyes Wide Slut
Bang Hur
Porn Free
Sleeping With The Enema
My Big Fat Greek Penis
Shaving Ryan's Privates

Symptoms of the BIRD FLU...

The Center for Disease Control has released a list of symptoms of bird flu. If you experience any of the following, please seek medical treatment immediately:

1. High fever
2. Congestion
3. Nausea
4. Fatigue
5. Aching in the joints
6. An irresistible urge to crap on someone's windshield

check out this delightful fashion criticism

NK recommends this catty blog, particularly the Lil' Kim page.

Quotes:

It's not like I'm surprised. It's more like I'm wondering when we're actually going to see her entire vagina. I'm about to start taking bets. I'll take the under on 6 months. Who's in?

I was going to compliment Lil' Kim on her relative modesty this year, considering that only 98 percent of the total acreage of her breasts was visible to the public. Not a nipple in sight. But then I caught a full-body shot of her arrival.

In that dress she looks like some kind of deranged peacock-turned-synchronized swimmer.

Dear Lil' Kim:

Congratulations. You have a vagina. But you know what? So do I. Yet when I'm in public it somehow, magically, manages to stay inside my pants. If you would like some tips on vaginal concealment, I suggest that you contact some professionals -- like, say, Diane Keaton's stylist. I think that person could teach you a lot.

Yikes,
Heather

Originally uploaded by stan12341234.

Originally uploaded by stan12341234.

Amen to that!

Anonymous said...
Roberts is a SCJILF (pronounced Skuh-Jilf), which means, Supreme Court Justice I'd Like to Fuck.

-bhug

Jake Gyllenhaal

Originally uploaded by stan12341234.

NK from a certain Minneapolis firm sent this to me. He culled it from Pink is the New Blog.

Hello, Jake!

oh, the irony

The fabulous NE pointed out to me that there is an obnoxious white Cadillac Escalade that's frequently parked in front of the law school. It has a personalized Hawkeye license plate that says "Equity." The irony is truly sweet.

Maybe I should get a Hummer. Do they make a hybrid Hummer? That would be ideal.

;-)

The Queen's Throat

In the mail today, I received my copy of Wayne Koestenbaum's book "The Queen's Throat: Opera, Homosexuality, and the Mystery of Desire."

Quotes to follow.

Halloween
Originally uploaded by stan12341234.

A Confederacy of Dunces

Loving readers, it has been far too long since I've posted.

I enjoyed the Lavender Law Conference and lovely San Diego. I traveled to an interesting place, met fascinating people, and slept with them. I also attended informative sessions about the aftermath of Lawrence v. Texas and how to create prenups for gay people. I heard James Hormel, the first openly gay ambassador, speak. All good stuff. I spent time with my sister, her husband, and their two daughters. I visited Tijuana.

My delightful friend Courtney sent me "A Confederacy of Dunces," a book by John Kennedy Toole that won the Pulitzer Prize. Don't be fooled by the prize, however. This is a really good book!

Excerpt (p. 119), from a section in which the narrator is keeping a journal for possible future publication:

Although residing along the Mississippi River [This river is famed in atrocious song and verse; the most prevalent motif is one which attempts to make the river an erstatz father figure. Actually, the Mississippi River is a treacherous and sinister body of water whose eddies and currents yearly claim many lives. I have never known anyone who would even venture to stick his toe in its polluted brown waters, which seethe with sewage, industrial waste, and deadly insecticides. Even the fish are dying. Therefore, the Mississippi as Father-God-Moses-Daddy-Phallus-Pops is an altogether false motif begun, I would imagine, by that dreary fraud, Mark Twain. This failure to make contact with reality is, however, characteristic of almost all of America's "art." Any connection between American art and American nature is purely coincidental, but this is only because the nation as a whole has no contact with reality. That is only one of the reasons why I have always been forced to exist on the fringes of its society, consigned to the Limbo reserved for those who do know reality when they see it.], I have never seen cotton growing and have no desire to do so.

Originally uploaded by stan12341234.

iPod addiction

As I came out of one of the stalls in a law school bathroom this morning, I got a funny look from a guy who was washing his hands. I couldn't figure out why at first, but then it occurred to me that I had my earphones in. In fact, I had been listening to Hilary Duff on my iPod while doing number two.

It all began when I would go to the urinal and, too lazy to remove the earphones, or too afraid of leaving the sonic world I was inhabiting at the moment, I would remain plugged in while unleashing a veritable geyser of Gatorade. At first, I would only do this when nobody was around. But soon, it didn't matter if I was surrounded by fellow urinators. Now, I have no limits as to my iPod listening in the bathroom. So my experience today was really the continuation of a long slide down the slippery slope. (My favorite slope!)

But the real question is: have I gone too far? Is it wrong (or overly iPod dependent) to listen while taking care of bodily functions?

I've tried listening while I eat before, but the chewing sound drowns out the music.

wait a minute

Is it just me, or has Tom DeLay had work done?

TrannyWreck

Everyone, my good friend Becky has started a podcast. It's called TrannyWreck, and it's available on iTunes. You can also find it on her nascent website, www.TrannyWreck.com.

As you might guess, Becky is a male-to-female transsexual. We've been friends ever since we were teenagers in the rural hamlet of Monroe, Utah. She was Ryan back then. But she was always fabulous! Anyway, I have called into the TrannyWreck phone line on several occasions to share my musings, and Becky has been kind enough to play some of these on her show. So I encourage you to listen to it. She has been picking very good music, too!

If anyone is interested in contacting Becky or contributing to her show, you should call the TrannyWreck phone line at (413) 622-4129 or send an email to trannywreck@gmail.com.

mon cher Marcel

from Baker v. State, 371 A.2d 699 (Md.App. 1977) (quoted in Waltz et al., Evidence: Cases and Materials, updated 10th ed.) (speaking of memory aids for witnesses):

[T]he memory aid itself need not even be a writing. What may it be? It may be anything. . . All that is required is that it may trigger the Proustian moment. [FN3] It may be anything which produces the desired testimonial prelude, "It all comes back to me now."

[FN3] Marcel Proust, in his monumental epic In Remembrance of Things Past, sat, as a middle-aged man, sipping a cup of lime-flavored tea and eating a madeleine, a small French pastry. Through both media, two long-forgotten tastes from childhood were reawakened. By association, long forgotten memories from the same period of childhood came welling and surging back. Once those floodgates of recall were opened, seven volumes followed.

Mr. Iowa Law

Everyone, it's that time of year again when proud male law students humiliate themselves for a good cause. It's the annual Mr. Iowa Law competition. Our motto: "It's not a beauty pageant. It's a scholarship program!"

Last year, I donned my suit and "conducted" one of the Carmina Burana. This year, I'm going lowbrow. I plan to demonstrate proper condom application on various vegetables. With condoms of various colors and flavors. Maybe I'll do my look-at-this-banana-look-where-it's-going-my-god-he-doesn't-have-a-gag-reflex trick.

You'll only find out if you show up at 8 PM at 808. Come one, come all!

Seriously, though. These people made it possible for me to intern with a public interest group last summer. They need your hard-earned loan money. Give it up.

back to school

Well, I'm feeling better. I had a good cry yesterday, on the shoulder of the ever-lovely LM, and life is now more bearable.

Am I still weeks behind in my classes? Do I owe the professor for whom I'm a research assistant 40 hours of work? Do I have an oral argument to make and a law review article to write? Have I been rejected by nearly every firm with which I've had a callback interview? The answer to each of those questions is a resounding yes.

But after arriving back in town, I realize how many people at Iowa I truly love and connect with. I finally got a chance to talk with Ebuz today about her ordeal. (I wish I would have been here for support.) And of course I always love talking to TB and BW. JM sent me notes from some of my classes. I went to lunch with a bunch of the guys today. I talked with the phenomenal Career Services people this afternoon. I set up a date for next week. Life goes on.

I'll just pretend that I'm sitting on a shore, watching a river of responsibilities flow on by. Who cares if my grades tank after this semester? I have an offer!

I'm now reading "Double Billing: A Young Lawyer's Tale of Greed, Sex, Lies, and the Pursuit of a Swivel Chair." Juicy quotes to follow.

Originally uploaded by stan12341234.

Check out a delightful archive of Hugh Macleod's "cartoons drawn on the back of business cards."

Pucker up, buttercup!

My friend Courtney emailed me this article entitled "An Ode to Ass: Or, how we got butt sex on the brain and can't get it off." Published in the Village Voice, naturally.

Excerpt:

For such a tight-lipped little area, the butthole says a whole lot about American culture. With nicknames ranging from flowery (rosebud) to filthy (poop chute), the brown eye is full of complexity and contradiction. It represents strength and control to some and ultimate vulnerability to others. It's delicate yet resilient, and embodies some of our deepest needs—things like privacy, trust, and power. Some fear it, others fetishize it, and everyone has to think about it on a regular basis. Talk of it can elicit feelings from stress to silliness. What other hole do you know that is associated with Freudian pathology, puritanical repression, and homophobia? That's one busy orifice.

While it symbolizes some of our fundamental fixations, it transcends another of our collective obsessions: gender. In this age of gender fluidity and transgendered bodies, the ass emerges as a kind of neutral territory of the flesh. While genderqueers attempt to reimagine, reclaim, and even rename sites of pleasure like breasts, cunts, and cocks that are heavily identified as male or female, the ass is everyman's hole—a source of pleasure unencumbered by society's expectations. . . .

The growing popularity of that puckered hole and where it leads is undeniable. Anal sex represents the ultimate collision between public and private: A person gets to go inside another's deepest, darkest place, to feel it and to know it through an erotic act laced with cultural taboos (more so than other acts). In Hollywood movies, buttfucking is still most often shown as degrading; in some gay-male fisting videos, it's portrayed as a transformative experience. In porn, it seems that there's some of both, mirroring the capacity of anal sex to be represented, imagined, and experienced as intense violation, stunning revelation, or something else entirely.
**************************************

The article was written by Tristan Taormino, who runs a website called PuckerUp.com. Tagline: "smart.sexy.anal.kinky.fun. Welcome to my world." I notice they're having a 20% off sale on tuning fork dildos.

P.S. Five points to the first person who can name the source of the movie quote in the title of this post.

rode hard and put away wet

Loving readers,

No, I have not abandoned you. Instead, I was gone every day last week except for Wednesday. And even then my Tuesday evening flight from Minneapolis was cancelled, so I arrived at the airport in Cedar Rapids Wednesday morning and left for New York that afternoon.

I have been discouraged by a steady stream of rejections from firms where I've done callback interviews. This discouragement deepened on Friday morning when I woke up to the full-blown flu and had to tell a certain Minneapolis firm that I couldn't interview with them even though I was in a hotel down the street and they had paid for my flight and hotel. :-(

The one pinpoint of light in all of this is that I got an offer! And it was from one of my favorite firms, Jenner & Block. Very liberal. Very gay-friendly. Litigation powerhouse. Sweatshop. In downtown Chicago. You get the picture.

So I'm now back in Iowa City. Still craving my bed, but working on my AAI brief (due tomorrow) instead. I figure I can have the chills in the library as well as I can in bed.

I'm supposed to be on a flight to Phoenix right now, but I just can't do it. I've been ignoring signs of impending sickness all week and I really need to rest. I feel awful about canceling with the firm after they've paid for airfare and hotel and put together an interviewing schedule for me. On the other hand, they probably would have rejected me anyway, so I'm really saving us all some time and effort.

has it gone this far?

As I blog, at this very moment, I am wearing a baseball cap in the law building. "Why on earth," you might ask yourself (preferably while shaking a fist at the sky) "would Edward be wearing a baseball cap? And in a public building?" Rest assured, a baseball cap has not touched this head for more than 30 seconds since . . . well, ever.

Semi-related aside: can anybody name this movie conversation?

"I bet you money she paid $500 for that dress and don't even bother to wear a girdle."
"Looks like two pigs fighting underneath a blanket."
"Well, I haven't left the house without lycra on these thighs since I was fourteen."
"You were brought up right!"

Well, I haven't left the house with a hat on my head for years. But I do it now because I have to turn in 5 pages of text and 5 pages of endnotes to law review by tomorrow. And a two-page outline of my note. I've been gone for the better part of this past week, and I'm leaving again tonight. So it has to be done in the next few hours.

I asked for an extension, and was quickly referred to page 4 of the Iowa Law Review Student Writer Manual, which expressly disallows exceptions to deadlines for "interviewing or travel for interviewing purposes." Then my editor told me that she or he stayed up all night to write his or her background and outline last year. The cycle of suffering continues.

corn vibrator
Originally uploaded by stan12341234.

eat your vegetables

A certain female friend of mine related today that she was visiting a local sex shop and saw a corn-shaped vibrator. The handle was green and leafy. The vibrator part was yellow and had ridges like corn. She wasn't sure if it was a gag gift based on local agricultural preferences, or if there's some wider market for corn vibrators.

The obvious question here is whether, after using the corn vibrator, you would get turned on by seeing actual corn growing in the fields.

On a semi-related note, the other day I was talking with a couple who are friends of mine from Utah. The woman started talking about her vibrator and it became apparent that the man felt some hostile feelings toward the vibrator. He didn't like it. I recalled that my friend Cory's husband used to refer to her vibrator pejoratively as "the chainsaw." As in, "You are not taking that chainsaw with us on the camping trip."

Do straight men not like vibrators because they're jealous? Jealous that the vibrator gets the woman off so effectively, and the man just can't compete?

Tell me if I'm wrong here.

healthy, my ass

Originally uploaded by stan12341234.

as I lay dying

I write to you from my deathbed. What started as a tickle in my throat last night has blossomed into florid havoc in my throat. It feels like a truck ran over my head. (Of course this couldn't have come at a more convenient time, when I have an on-campus interview tomorrow morning and I'll be flying to Phoenix tomorrow night for a callback interview on Tuesday. How can this happen to me? I've led a pure, unblemished life!)

When I reached for a can of Campbell's chicken noodle soup this morning, I noticed with annoyance that I had purchased the Healthy Request low-fat soup. Why would I do that? The only time I ever eat chicken soup is when I'm sick. And the whole point of eating chicken soup when one is sick is for the chicken fat. So I put on my bathrobe and flip-flops and battled the elements in my trek toward the Kum & Go, where I purchased regular chicken soup for twice the supermarket price.

Imagine my surprise when I got back to my apartment and discovered that Healthy Request actually has MORE FAT than regular Campbell's chicken noodle soup! More saturated fat. More fat overall.

Who needs the sixth circle of hell when Campbell's has brought it to me right here in River City?

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Sixth Level of Hell - The City of Dis!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Low
Level 2 (Lustful)	Very High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Moderate
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Moderate
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	High
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Extreme
Level 7 (Violent)	Very High
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	High
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	High

Take the Dante's Inferno Test

Hell

BrentGardner said...
just out of curiosity, how many circles of hell are there? what is a circle of hell?

I think the idea of circles of hell comes from Dante's Divine Comedy, specifically the Inferno portion of that poem. Here's a graphical representation and explanation of the circles as Dante explained them. The outermost limit of hell is limbo, and Satan himself is at the center of the circles. According to this chart, there are nine circles of hell, though some circles have subdivisions.

Although I just picked the fifth circle out of the air for my email below, it was appropriate because the fifth circle is reserved for the slothful.

If you'd like to know where you fit in all of this, take Dante's Inferno Hell Test.

Only the beginning

Originally uploaded by stan12341234.

This is the first picture in a series that my friend C just emailed me. These adorable men go on to do indescribably naughty, really extraordinary things. :-)

De profundis

Dear readers, I write to you from the fifth circle of hell, aka the first floor of the library.

This week I had three hundred interviews, classes, and the dreaded AAI brief. I feel like I'm doing a half-ass job on everything. My AAI brief was horrible. (But, I must remind myself, all I want is a P!) I didn't read for two class periods this week. I really, really hate that. I've heard good news from some firms, but even that has turned into a nightmare. I basically have to be gone an entire day or more for each firm that I visit, all while attempting to finish AAI, write a law review note, and study for classes from a goddamn airport.

Interviewing has sent me on an emotional rollercoaster. I try to be positive and focused at interviews; when it works well, I get a big adrenaline rush. So I feel great! But then I'm too hyped up to do the work that is sitting in piles around me. Then I start having self-esteem issues and I wonder why I'm interviewing for firms at all because they won't want me anyway when they figure out I have no idea how to do whatever it is that associates at law firms do. Then I get a callback and I feel better. But then it takes three hours to make travel arrangements and I get stressed out again.

I wonder if my body image has more to do with my emotional state than with my actual body size. I've been feeling imperially slim lately. (Can anyone name that poem?) But then I have been eating healthy food. It's all about the salad bar at Hillcrest.

Tonight I saw Pedro Almodovar's film La Ley del Deseo (The Law of Desire), with Antonio Banderas. It's always great to see a movie where Antonio Banderas is naked half the time and always making out with men. Even if his character is psycho. I think he played the same character in Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!

Back to Evidence . . .

cool TV

This week's New Yorker has some great suggestions for new TV shows. My favorites:

REAL TAN GIRLS
Meet Madison, Kaitlin, and Pomona!

Follow these super-rich, super-tan seventh-grade virgins--who just happen to always wear bikinis--through the heights and hardships of living in an exclusive beach community. "Let's skip recess and take a helicopter to Jamba Juice! Or is that bad?"

ALIAS: PAT ROBERTSON

"Your assignment, should you choose to accept it: break into Chavez's bedroom and release this deadly poisonous asp!"

bricked up

Ken said:

Well, Stan, since you asked...I was examining the tailgating scene as an example of the "carnivalesque" [...] So i was looking for class dynamics, examples of high/low culture, bourgeois influence, the grotesque body, valorization of low culture, and victims of displaced abjection. This last category is talking about you, Stan! The displaced abject are those who have been thrown out by those who themselves have been thrown out of high culture or a particular social order. basically the oppressed oppressing others. So the subtle and not-so-subtle signals you get as a gay man (hope I'm not outing you here!) from tailgaters is an example of this. So I am going to cite you (using a pseudonym of course) in my paper.

****************

Yay! I'll be a famous pseudonym, like Jane Roe! But you also have my permission to use my real name. I'm so far out of the closet that I'm practically in orbit. You're talking to a man who is determined to wear a dress like Maria's in the Sound of Music on his wedding day.

The "carnival" image is precisely what comes to my mind every time I walk through the Myrtle lot on game day mornings! It's a time of celebration, but also a time when the drunken masses get whipped up into a frenzy and will turn on non-conforming outsiders in a heartbeat.

What amazes me is that normally kind, docile Iowans can be very direct in this different context. Just yesterday, I received a long, hostile stare from a woman, and a homophobic comment from two young men who were walking behind me.

Very "Cask of Amontillado."

Except that, as you say, the crowd valorizes low culture, so instead of amontillado, they drink domestic beer. And they insist on your allegiance to some kind of sports team. Football, apparently.

Quel journée!

I laid in bed this morning, listening to Mozart. Then I did laundry, then went running. Whenever I run, I become voraciously hungry afterwards. So I brunched at Hillcrest, where I feasted on biscuits and gravy, scrambled eggs, a slice of ham, a potato pattie with ketchup, and two glasses of orange juice. Then I tossed in a chocolate chip cookie for good measure. I was eyeing the Belgian waffles, but my stomach was about to explode all over the place.

Now I'm in the library. I'm supposed to be working on my AAI brief, but I'm so tired. I'm drinking cherry Coke, but I don't think it's helping.

On the bright side, I saw the ever-luscious Ken and Ebuz yesterday. (To be clear, the adjective "ever-luscious" applies to both Ken and Ebuz.) Ken was doing some fascinating field work, based on an insightful observation of mine on this very blog. Tell us more, Ken!

Bad doggie!

Check out this link that a fellow intern from last summer sent me in response to The World's Worst Hunting Dog picture, infra.

Let's jump start this baby

So what do y'all think about John Roberts so far?

And how does his sex appeal stack up to the other justices and/or past chief justices?

Evidence is dirty

KW sent me the following tidbit (along with the title above) from Summit v. State, 101 Nev. 159 (1985):

"I concur in result with my brethren on the fellatio count but dissent as to the count involving cunnilingus."

the joints of your thighs are like jewels

My sister wrote this, in an email she sent me:

"I tried to look at your blog a few months ago (just before leaving BYU), but I was accessing it from my work computer. Since the computer was on BYU's network, it blocked your website and listed the reason as being pornographic. Sketchy, Edward."

Hehe. This reminds me of a story I read in BYU's school paper about a nursing student who started an anti-pornography club. She said that in working at a mental hospital, she noticed that most of the male patients looked at pornography. It was clear, then, that pornography causes mental illness. To which I chuckled inwardly and thought, "Correlation and causation, baby."

Thanks for your comment on the post below, ken. I had a lot of the same issues with the Bible when I was reading it. But the literary beauty of certain passages made up for it. When you have a moment, you should read the Song of Songs (aka the Song of Solomon). I can't resist this quote, from chapter 7 of the Song (King James Version):

************************************
How beautiful are thy feet with shoes, O prince's daughter! the joints of thy thighs are like jewels, the work of the hands of a cunning workman.
Thy navel is like a round goblet, which wanteth not liquor: thy belly is like an heap of wheat set about with lilies.
Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins.
Thy neck is as a tower of ivory; thine eyes like the fishpools in Heshbon, by the gate of Bathrabbim: thy nose is as the tower of Lebanon which looketh toward Damascus.
Thine head upon thee is like Carmel, and the hair of thine head like purple; the king is held in the galleries.
How fair and how pleasant art thou, O love, for delights!
This thy stature is like to a palm tree, and thy breasts to clusters of grapes.
I said, I will go up to the palm tree, I will take hold of the boughs thereof: now also thy breasts shall be as clusters of the vine, and the smell of thy nose like apples;
And the roof of thy mouth like the best wine for my beloved, that goeth down sweetly, causing the lips of those that are asleep to speak.
************************************

How could a woman (or a man) who loves women resist those verses?

I hate them with perfect hatred

Anonymous said...
[Verses] 19-22 [of Psalm 139 below are] a bit troublesome. all that hate and wicked talk. hmm?

Let's see, religious fanatacism inspires hatred a long time ago. Check.
Religious fanatacism inspires hate today. Check.

There we go.

C.S. Lewis defended these verses by saying that the psalmist is expressing the natural human condition, which must be overcome. Although hatred is not an emotion I feel very often, I almost admire the psalmist for her singleminded devotion to such an energy-consuming endeavor. I can barely hold a grudge for more than a few hours, much less hate someone with perfect hatred.

Have I done any good in the world today?

Shout-out to A, who recently informed me that 1) he reads my blog, 2) he enjoyed my Proust quotes, and 3) the quotes inspired him to buy two volumes of Proust's novel, one of which he is now reading.

I cannot express the joy that fills my heart, to think that not only do people read my blog, but it actually makes the occasional life better in some way.

Cha-ching!

World's Worst Hunting Dog
Originally uploaded by stan12341234.

fishing trip
Originally uploaded by stan12341234.

Bush: One of the Worst Disasters to Hit the U.S.

great caption
Originally uploaded by stan12341234.

Oooh, gift bag!

A nice old man was handing out little green Gideon New Testament, Psalms, and Proverbs books (New King James version) on my way to school this morning. I accepted one, and promptly turned to my favorite Psalm:

Psalm 139

For the Chief Musician. A Psalm of David.

1 O LORD, You have searched me and known me.
2 You know my sitting down and my rising up;
You understand my thought afar off.
3 You comprehend my path and my lying down,
And are acquainted with all my ways.
4 For there is not a word on my tongue,
But behold, O LORD, You know it altogether.
5 You have hedged me behind and before,
And laid Your hand upon me.
6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
It is high, I cannot attain it.

7 Where can I go from Your Spirit?
Or where can I flee from Your presence?
8 If I ascend into heaven, You are there;
If I make my bed in hell, behold, You are there.
9 If I take the wings of the morning,
And dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
10 Even there Your hand shall lead me,
And Your right hand shall hold me.
11 If I say, “Surely the darkness shall fall on me,”
Even the night shall be light about me;
12 Indeed, the darkness shall not hide from You,
But the night shines as the day;
The darkness and the light are both alike to You.

13 For You formed my inward parts;
You covered me in my mother’s womb.
14 I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
Marvelous are Your works,
And that my soul knows very well.
15 My frame was not hidden from You,
When I was made in secret,
And skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.
16 Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed.
And in Your book they all were written,
The days fashioned for me,
When as yet there were none of them.

17 How precious also are Your thoughts to me, O God!
How great is the sum of them!
18 If I should count them, they would be more in number than the sand;
When I awake, I am still with You.

19 Oh, that You would slay the wicked, O God!
Depart from me, therefore, you bloodthirsty men.
20 For they speak against You wickedly;
Your enemies take Your name in vain.
21 Do I not hate them, O LORD, who hate You?
And do I not loathe those who rise up against You?
22 I hate them with perfect hatred;
I count them my enemies.

23 Search me, O God, and know my heart;
Try me, and know my anxieties;
24 And see if there is any wicked way in me,
And lead me in the way everlasting.

Now we're getting some good commentary going!

Ken wrote:

Umm...I think there are serious flaws in brentgardner's reasons for privileging golf above all other sports.
First, there are a lot of sports that are not team sports: swimming, track and field, tennis to name just a few. If that's your criteria it seems you need to expand your interests. Second, sure you can enjoy the outdoors when golfing but is that really why professionals play? And the outdoors you are enjoying is all highly sculptured: I mean how many pits of sand do you find organically appearing in nature?
And professional golfers are not jackasses? Hello? Vijay Singh and his total dissing of female golfers? And what about that alcoholic guy that I never hear about anymore? And having worked and been around golf/country clubs all my life I can tell you that non-pros are very jack-assy.

And to Stan: there's a former ballet dancer in my Foundations of Feminist Inquiry class--just thought you might be interested.
And how did you score an invite to Lou's tailgating? I heard of no such event. Where's the love for the former softball teammates??
********************************

I'll let Mr. Gardner respond for himself. As for your former ballet dancer, sign me up! Unlike some other persnickety queens, I'm always up for a blind date.

Of course I assumed that Lou invited you. I would reprimand him but I never see him. He's over at that damn business school, playing "team-building" games and making rope bridges all semester.

Aristocrats

You've got to see The Aristocrats. I don't have time right now to explain why, but you should read this review in the New York Times.

An excerpt from the NYT review:

"The Aristocrats" is - how shall I put it? - an essay film, a work of painstaking and penetrating scholarship, and, as such, one of the most original and rigorous pieces of criticism in any medium I have encountered in quite some time.

For those of you who have not already put down your newspaper and rushed off to buy tickets (and I hereby authorize the advertising department at ThinkFilm to plaster the previous sentence wherever it likes), perhaps I should add that "The Aristocrats" is also possibly the filthiest, vilest, most extravagantly obscene documentary ever made. Visually, it is as tame as anything on PBS or VH1's "Behind the Music," but there is scarcely a minute of screen time that does not contain a reference to scatology, incest, bestiality and practices for which no euphemisms or Latinate names have been invented.

********************************

You should also go because the movie features Penn Jillette, Paul Provenza, Jason Alexander, Drew Carey, George Carlin, Andy Dick, Eddie Izzard, Kevin Nealon, Chris Rock, Steven Wright, Whoopi Goldberg, and Bob Saget.

I also love this family-friendly website that sets out the most explicit profanity and sexual content of the movie, so parents can protect their children from it. (My favorites are the "Profanity Examples in Context" and "Sexual Examples in Context" sections.)

We must become intimately familiar with evil if we are to fight it effectively, I say!

ahh, the weekend

Anonymous 1 asked, "Where's VP Cheney???" I found the answer in the paragraph below, from this delightful New York Times op-ed piece.

"It would be one thing if President Bush and his inner circle - Dick Cheney was vacationing in Wyoming; Condi Rice was shoe shopping at Ferragamo's on Fifth Avenue and attended 'Spamalot' before bloggers chased her back to Washington; and Andy Card was off in Maine - lacked empathy but could get the job done. But it is a chilling lack of empathy combined with a stunning lack of efficiency that could make this administration implode."

I tailgated at Lou Eberline's house this morning. By tailgate, I mean that I arrived at 9:30 AM, poured a can of Diet Coke in a cup, and told everyone that I was drinking rum and Coke. On my way to Lou's I couldn't help but notice the many people who were drinking domestic beer and eating bacon, bratwurst, and/or hamburgers. My stomach turns at the very thought.

The crowd of sports-crazed fans wearing identical colors and united in excessive zeal for a stupid sports team filled me with fear. Was this fear a throwback to my high school days, when I was the only one who didn't give a flying fuck about how our sports teams did? (Though I faithfully attending wrestling matches.) Or was it that I knew that these people could sense that I despise football? I knew they would gang up on me in a second, if provoked.

The only way I could keep myself from freaking out was to imagine that I was wandering through a festival in ancient Greece or Rome, and these people were offering holocausts and libations to the local deity, the bird-god Herky. Afterwards, they would go to the gladiator match/football game, where Christians would be tossed to the lions at half-time.

That made me feel better.

Getting the hang of this

My dear readers, I must admit that I was feeling really stressed out earlier this week. I had my first good cry of the semester. Classes + research assistantship + AAI + law review + interviews = busy Stan. But things are gradually become more comprehensible and doable. I can now understand many of the words coming out of my Tax professor's mouth. And I'm getting the hang of what the professor for whom I'm doing research wants me to do.

I'm excited for the long weekend, not because I have fabulous vacation plans, but so that I can catch up on my research. And start looking for a note topic for law review. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!

How are you all doing?

oops

This guy is in line at the Super Market when he notices that a hot blonde behind him has just raised her hand and smiled hello to him. He is stunned that such a hottie would be waving to him. She seems familiar but he's not sure where he might know her from. So he says, "Sorry, do I know you?"

She replies, "I may be mistaken, but I thought you might be the father of one of my children!"

His mind shoots back to the one and only time he has been unfaithful. "Christ!" he says. "Are you that stripper at my bachelor party that I had on the pool table in front of all my friends while your partner whipped me with some wet celery and stuck a cucumber up my ass?"

"No," she replies, "I'm your son's English teacher."

Random thoughts centered on my New York trip

It was good. I stayed with my roommate from this summer, who hasn’t found someone new to rent the room because she’s holding out for someone as fabulous as I am. I told her not to hold her breath. On the way from the airport, in the taxi, I felt with a rush that I was back in my element, my true home. The stark contrast between Iowa and New York has brought back to me the reality that, whatever Iowa’s charms and despite the many friends I have here, Iowa is not my home. Iowa allows me to live here, but it does not embrace me.

I had five interviews at the job fair. They seemed to go well, but the proof, as they say, is in the pudding. (I used to try to limit the number of asides, and attendant commas, in the sentences that I write. But I’m now reading Proust, so any sentence I write seems lean and spare by comparison. It’s very freeing.)

Speaking of Proust, I found another delightful quote in “Swann’s Way”:

“Somewhere in one of the tall trees, making a stage in its height, an invisible bird, desperately attempting to make the day seem shorter, was exploring with a long, continuous note the solitude that pressed it on every side, but it received at once so unanimous an answer, so powerful a repercussion of silence and of immobility that, one would have said, it had arrested for all eternity the moment which it had been trying to make pass more quickly.” p. 138

That, my friends, is genius.

On the flight back, I sat next to a girl of approximately 12 years who was studiously annotating a fashion magazine (J14, I think) with a blue pen. Next to a certain sweater, she wrote, “Good (pretty).” Next to a handbag, “No.” On Jessica Alba’s forehead: “Good actress.”

On the topic of 12-year-old girls, I have to confess that I’ve recently come to enjoy the music of Hilary Duff. There, I said it. What is it about teen pop princesses that really works for me?

Upon arriving home, a certain twentysomething Latin medical student with a tight, edible bubblebutt called me up. The next thing I knew, we were having animalistic sex in a variety of positions, some of which I haven’t employed for years. Very satisfying. Afterwards, I was reflecting on what a sexual being I am. It’s not only that I have a lot of sex. (Though really not as much as I used to.) But it’s also that I think about sex and talk about sex all the time. I started to think that maybe my hypersexuality is somehow unhealthy.

I was happy to discover, though, that I am not alone. I was reading a friend’s doctoral dissertation, “Making Love with God: Sex and identity in Two Late-Medieval Women Mystics, Mechthild of Magdeburg and Margery Kempe.” I came upon the following passage in Chapter III, “Down and Dirty with God: Margery Kempe’s Bodily Theology of Grace”:

“The trouble with Margery Kempe is that she was, in the words of Nancy Partner, ‘a highly sexual woman.’ Her ‘sexuality was central to her identity . . . the compelling force which governed her imagination and passions, and it was lifelong.’ Few people who have read Kempe’s Book [entitled “The Book of Margery Kempe"] would disagree with Partner’s assessment. One of the appealing, and sometimes humorous, aspects of Margery Kempe’s writing is her frank admission of her struggle against the Christian sin of lechery. At the beginning of her book, Kempe confesses that she wants to have illicit sex with an attractive townsman while feeling no desire for lawful intercourse with her husband: ‘She lay by her husband, and it was so abominable to her to have intercourse with him that she could not endure it . . . But she was constantly worked up over the other man, wanting to sin with him because he had propositioned her.’”

Maybe the fact that sexuality is “the compelling force [that] govern[s] [my] imagination and passions” isn’t such a bad thing after all.

Making the world a better place

My brother-in-law just sent me an email containing this maxim: "A better day is only a bowel movement away." Pithy, but so often true.

And my grandfather sent me this joke:

A Greek and an Italian were debating who had the superior culture.

The Greek said, "We have the Parthenon!"
The Italian said, "We have the Coliseum!"
The Greek said, "We had great mathematicians!"
The Italian said, "We had the Roman Empire!"
And so on until the Greek exclaimed: "We invented sex!"
The Italian nodded and said,
"This is true...but it was the Italians who introduced it to women!"


I went to Alternative Law Night last night and rocked it with the OutLaws. I forget how much fun that group is. While there seem to be few 1L flamers, a certain 2L strode firmly out of the closet. This gives me hope that recruitment actually does work. My next project: BG. (Not the married BG who reads this blog on a regular basis. The other BG.) Of course his political aspirations in Iowa would be shot, but there are plenty of opportunites for flamers to gain public office in, say, Manhattan or San Francisco.

I leave for the New York job fair tonight. Wish me luck! I'll be back Sunday morning and ready for another week of the delightful pain administered drop by drop right here at Iowa law!

What would you do for an internship next summer?

Today, as I was putting together 347 packets for the Non-Visiting Collect list, it occurred to me that I have no desire to work in the cities where 90% of these firms are located. Why, then, was I busting my ass to submit my 411 for their consideration? The answer, my friends, is blind fear. Fear of having to work in the fast-food industry next summer. Surely an internship in, say, Detroit is better than working at McDonald's on Benton and Riverside.

I'm going to the New York job fair on Friday. I will interview with five firms there. That's not a very large percentage of the hundreds of firms that exist in New York. What can I do to increase my chances of getting hired?

I heard a story about a gay male law student who had sex with his interviewer. I'm not sure if the sex was in exchange for an offer, or merely a post-offer addendum to an otherwise innocuous interview. But it brings up the question that is burning in all our minds: Would you have sex in exchange for an internship at your dream firm?

For me, of course, the answer is a resounding YES. Hell, I'd have sex even if it wasn't my dream firm. Or even if the other guy wasn't an interviewer. :-) This is all assuming, of course, that the person in question is hot. The question of whether I would have sex with an old and/or ugly interviewer in exchange for a job offer presents the type of thorny, ethical question that, because it is still hypothetical, I will leave until the last moment for a real decision.

But I'll let y'all know how it turns out.

Caught in the Jude

Notice my new link to Word on the Street, on the right. I love Word. Now go to her entry for today and check out her link to a picture of Jude Law butt naked.

The real issue is, of course, his penis size. (Isn't that always the issue?) For those of you out there who are not intimately familiar with the penis during its non-erectile periods, it can vary greatly in size based on temperature, the man's body heat, and God knows what else. Also, some men are "growers" (meaning that their flaccid penis looks small or average, but becomes large when erect) whereas other men are "showers" (meaning that their flaccid penis is large, as is their erect penis).

Applying these principles to the picture in question, and taking judicial notice that it doesn't look particularly warm or sunny in the picture, I would say there is a 75% chance that Jude Law has a perfectly respectable erect penis size and it just looks a bit smaller here because a) he's a "grower" or b) the weather is cold. On the other hand, there is a 25% chance that his penis doesn't grow very much from that size when it's erect, in which case it's a good thing that he has a lot of fame and money to make up for it.

Also very important: notice that our sexy satyr is uncircumcised. Mmmmmm.

Thanks, Word on the Street!

miniature

I've recently been reading "Swann's Way," the first of eight volumes in Marcel Proust's novel "Remembrance of Things Past." Jean Cocteau described this work as a "giant miniature, full or mirages, of superimposed gardens, of games conducted between space and time."

I found a wonderful passage to share with you all:

**************************************************
As we returned from a long walk we saw, near the Pont-Vieux, Legrandin himself, who, on account of the holidays, was spending a few days in Combray. He came up to us with outstretched hand: 'Do you know, master book-lover,' he asked me, 'this line of Paul Desjardins?:

Now are the woods all black, but still the sky is blue.

Is not that a fine rendering of a moment like this? Perhaps you have never read Paul Desjardins. Read him, my boy, read him; in these days he is converted, they tell me, into a preaching friar, but he used to have the most charming water-colour touch--

Now are the woods all black, but still the sky is blue.

May you always see a blue sky overhead, my young friend; and then, even when the time comes, which is coming now for me, when the woods are all black, when night is fast falling, you will be able to console yourself, as I am doing, by looking up to the sky.' He took a cigarette from his pocket and stood for a long time, his eyes fixed on the horizon. 'Good-bye, friends!' he suddenly exclaimed, and left us.
**************************************************

pp. 119-120.
(Translated from the French by C.K. Scott Moncrieff. Published by
Penguin Books, 1999. Originally published in 1913.)

note

For those of you who have had problems commenting in the past, I've opened up comments to anyone, rather than just registered users.

Also, if you'd like me to link to your blog (or to another blog you like), let me know.

Originally uploaded by stan12341234.

my favorite flavor

I went to Bob's Your Uncle for lunch today with EM, DH, and HY. A fun time was had by all.

We went to the mall, where I found a pair of jeans at the Gap on sale for $20. And I got a free song on iTunes just for trying them on!

While talking with my friends, I recalled the time when I was at the public health clinic and they were asking whether or not I used condoms during various sex acts. Finally they got to oral sex, and I gave them a blank stare. It had never occurred to me that it was an option to use a condom during oral sex. They kindly explained to me that they had condoms in a variety of flavors: banana, cherry, strawberry.

What I wanted to know is whether they have a cock-flavored condom.

Gossip vindicated by scientific studies. At last!

From a New York Times article:

"There has been a tendency to denigrate gossip as sloppy and unreliable" and unworthy of serious study, said David Sloan Wilson, a professor of biology and anthropology at the State University of New York at Binghamton and the author of "Darwin's Cathedral," a book on evolution and group behavior. "But gossip appears to be a very sophisticated, multifunctional interaction which is important in policing behaviors in a group and defining group membership."

When two or more people huddle to share inside information about another person who is absent, they are often spreading important news, and enacting a mutually protective ritual that may have evolved from early grooming behaviors, some biologists argue.

Given this protective group function, gossiping too little may be at least as risky as gossiping too much, some psychologists say. After all, scuttlebutt is the most highly valued social currency there is.

***********************************

I knew I was doing a service to humanity!

CD order

I just got an email from BMG saying that if I buy 1 CD, I'll get 3 free. I couldn't resist. My selections:

Renée Fleming: Haunted Heart (a jazz crossover album)
The Flaming Lips: Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots
Britney Spears: Greatest Hits - My Prerogative
Lil' Kim: Hardcore

Quite the variety, eh? All for $29.14. I'm informed that I saved $42.78.

Any suggestions of albums I should acquire?

Ohhhhhhhhh......

Sweet Jesus, what a hangover! I went out last night to Joe's Place with a bunch of law students, thinking at first I would have a beer or two. Then it was just me and TB & BW, OV & E, MC, AZ. There were rounds and rounds of lemondrops. Then some Jager. Oh god. It's 1:24 PM and I can now walk, but the light hurts my eyes.

The problem is that I don't drink all that often, and usually it's only a beer or two. So when I do go for drunk, I have difficulty guaging when to stop.

I have to play a get-to-know-you game with 1Ls at 2:45 PM. I need a shower, some coffee, and possibly a line.

Just kidding about the line.

Kind of.

Fun with Pennoyer

One of my fellow summer interns sent me this amusing anecdote, from 53 N.Y.U. L. Rev. 33, 33-34:

Everybody seems to have a Pennoyer v. Neff story. My own favorite occurred one autumn afternoon as I distractedly hurried home through Washington Square Park after teaching a class on the power theory of jurisdiction, my mind still fixed on the confused faces of 120 first-year law students. The park, which runs adjacent to the Law School's Vanderbilt Hall, was once memorialized by Henry James as a setting of elegance and style, but is now a place where senior citizens occupy their time on the benches, feeding the pigeons that strut by and watching the students toss frisbees through the air. It is also a popular territory for passing vagabonds who drift up from the Bowery in search of promising prey for their daily solicitations. One such idler, his appearance more appropriate to a Dickens novel than one by James, confronted me on my passage homeward. He asked for change for the proverbial cup of coffee, chance which, one could safely surmise from his demeanor, would be quickly invested in a pint of fruit-tainted brandy. In New York City, an instinct for self-preservation generally overtakes charitable inclinations, and consequently I continued apace through the park, my eyes rather deliberately avoiding my tattered follower. If one characteristic distinguishes New York derelicts from their comrades elsewhere, however, it is their persistence, and thus my snub was to no avail. "Two bits?" he pleaded after me, adding, "I'm a lawyer!" I was somewhat impressed by the boldness of this addition, but convinced that it was prompted by his sighting of my own books. I kept moving mumbling those cursory phrases one learns to ward off such intruders. "I matriculated at Harvard," he went on, now trotting alongside, "really I did." I remained unmoved. Apparently frustrated by my refusal to respond, he slowed, then stopped, and yelled, "Pennoyer! Pennoyer v. Neff, by God!" He then proceeded to shout, precisely, accurately, and in legalese that belied his condition, the facts and holding of that case. He even knew who won. This was too much for even the most hardened of civil procedure buffs. I succumbed, rewarding his recitation with a five dollar bill, and we departed friends: He, with a smile, doubtlessly off to the nearest vendor of the spirits; myself, still homeward, though with renewed faith that the faces of confusion would not last for long.

baby penguin
Originally uploaded by stan12341234.

baby penguins
Originally uploaded by stan12341234.

Back in the Sweet, Sweet Law School Game

So I went to a party at JW's new digs. He's shacked up with MH and JST. Of course I ran into BH, who was showing off a new girlfriend. Very delightful - blonde, black dog named B. Anyway, BH takes a look at my new, spiky hairdo and disdainfully says, "You have a lot of gel in your hair." No shit, Sherlock. Five points for Gryffindor.

He started getting fresh with me and so I had to say, "Look, BH, just because you're from the South and you have a big cock doesn't mean I'm going to automatically fall on my knees and give you head." Actually, that's exactly what that means under normal circumstances. But BH needs a little vacation from my sexual favors so he can learn a lesson.

In other news, I'm an FYI mentor. The newbies are so adorable. Just like the little penguins hatching from their shells in March of the Penguins. One of the new students asked me, "So do you do about two hours of studying for every hour of class?" He was so trusting and hopeful that I almost cried. No, young man. No.

Broken Flowers is the perfect movie.

Not perfect in the sense that there is a need or a quest that is stylishly fulfilled. The protagonist does go on a journey. But he doesn't find what he's looking for. In fact, he learns that the thing he was looking for may not exist at all. But he's not even sure about that.

The perfect accompaniment to this non-plot is Bill Murray's non-acting. (I mean that in the best possible way.) Bill Murray achieves total stasis in this movie. If he said one less word or made one less inflection, it wouldn't be acting and they couldn't give him a paycheck for making the movie.

Calling any and all Buddhists: see Broken Flowers!

My roommate's Maltese, Misa
Originally uploaded by stan12341234.

Coming back to the sweet cornfields of Iowa

In just a few short days, I will be back in Iowa. Someone asked me how I feel about coming back to the Hawkeye State after a fabulous summer in the Big Apple. I was surprised to hear myself say that I don't mind coming back at all. And it's true. New York has been great, but I'm ready to see all of my friends and get back into the swing of law school.

Of course I'll miss having someone pick up my laundry and return it clean. I'll miss free DVD delivery and pick-up service. I'll miss the museums and concerts and movies. I'll miss New York pizza and bagels. I'll miss H&M and Century 21. But I might be returning here some day. Who knows?

Meanwhile, Iowa awaits . . .

Working it on the golf course

Today the organization I intern for had the annual golf excursion for its big donors. I got to watch the twelfth hole carefully for two hours because anyone who got a hole-in-one would win $10,000. Nobody won the money. But I did get to participate in the beginners class for putting. Spent some time on the driving range. Realized that I need serious instruction before I can set foot on a golf course. Realized that golf could actually be pretty fun (especially the part where you drive the golf cart around). Sold some raffle tickets. Enjoyed the open bar. Etc.

On the actual legal work front, I finished a memo about [deleted to protect the innocent] and am now writing [also deleted].

Poppies, photo by my friend Burke
Originally uploaded by stan12341234.

El Mirage, naughty New York sex club
Originally uploaded by stan12341234.

I'm back!

I haven't even looked at this blog for awhile. But when I saw all y'all's comments it inspired me. Hey eBuz! Hey Brent! Hey Jin! Hey other hottie readers.

I have the opposite problem as you. I'm surrounded by people who go to Harvard, Yale, and NYU. Most of the other interns where I work don't have any attitude about going to a top 5 school. But they have no comprehension of a school experience in which you have to be in the top x percent of your class to be competitive for firms. They can get jobs pretty much wherever they want. On the other hand, they're paying a lot more tuition than I am, so it all works out.

Brian and Tori came by a few nights ago. It was good to see some familiar faces in this teeming metropolis. We met a friend of Brian's from Indiana and had pizza beer and caught up. Brian and Tori rock!

What are y'all doing this summer? Leave me some more comments so we can jump-start this little piece of heaven!

Loving it

New York continues to rock. I got to the office at ten minutes before nine this morning and it was locked tighter than Sandra Dee's butt. These public interest people are serious about their schedule. A lot of them don't arrive until 10 AM. Maybe I should rethink my desire to work at a firm. On the other hand, all that money....

One of the problems with New York is that there are pastry shops on every corner. This is especially disturbing because I haven't found a gym yet. Soon emergency workers will be laying wet blankets over me and squiring water on me and carting me to the ocean while shouting "Free Willy!" Hehe.

Yesterday I got a library card at the New York Public Library. That's a huge-ass library. I checked out Iris Murdoch's "The Black Prince," which I have been reading on the subway. I also figured out that instead of the three subways I've been taking to and from work, I only need to take two. Sweet!

Rock on, sweet, sweet bitches!

Triumph

I learned today that my *employer* will provide me with two month-passes for the subway, a $140 value. I celebrated by going to H&M (purveyor of fashion knockoffs) and purchasing some sexy ripped/torn/faded/low cut blue jeans and three shirts for $80. That's what I'm talking about!

Work is going well. I started working on my first two assignments today and I'm feeling good about them. These are research projects that will help me learn new areas of law without being impossibly difficult. The people I work with have been patient and seem genuinely interested in helping the interns feel at home.

Yesterday was awesome. I wandered around the Met and purchased a student membership. Right now they have an exhibtion of Diane Arbus's photographs and the Chanel retrospective. Then I went window-shopping on Fifth Avenue. I now know what all those advertisements in Vogue are about. I also saw lots and lots of very hot, very fashionable people. If all goes according to my evil plan, I will be one of those people some day.

I read a glowing review of the film Mysterious Skin in the New York Times, so I went to see it at the Film Forum. Brilliant but disturbing. Like racial violence, pedophilia is a social evil that surely must be addressed in the popular media (and Mysterious Skin was technically superb), but it doesn't exactly make for a fun date movie.

Today I scouted out one of three Episcopal churches within three blocks of my apartment. The Church of the Resurrection is very old school, very high church, and it has a remarkable choir. For those interested, today is Trinity Sunday, the first Sunday after Pentecost. Thursday is the feast of Corpus Christi.

This afternoon I'll buy toiletries, go jogging (I definitely need to get in shape this summer), and work on the fourth of my fucking journal applications, for the Journal of [identifying information deleted].

P.S. All this Bluebooking is causing me to think about typefaces. Is there some standard for regular old every day text, like blog text, when it comes to titles of things? For example, should I italicize the names of movies or books?

The Big Apple

Hey bitches! It looks like you found my new blog. You knew I couldn't stay away for long! I arrived in town last night and settled in to my little piece of heaven right in the middle of the Upper East Side. My new roommate Liz is great. She showed me around the neighborhood, took me out to eat, and told me about how her last roommate, Amanda, broke some tiles in the bathroom when she (Amanda) was grabbing on to a certain ledge in the shower while getting fucked from behind.

I have been people watching out my window for the last hour. It's fucking amazing. Well-groomed people, well-groomed dogs, joggers, families. This city has everything!

What should I do today? The options seem limitless. This city has an embarassment of riches, especially for a fabulous homosexual with a keen aesthetic sense (such as myself).