WWD.

The Gift of the Internet

2011-12-22T13:41:00.000-08:00

These are some of my favorite internet neighborhoods. Maybe you've seen them all (I tend to be about five years behind when it comes to youtube videos and other internet fades) but I did try to pick sites that were a little off the main road. Enjoy!

My Religious Blog--http://www.myregisblog.com/

Irreverent and funny without being disrespectful; this is a great place for anyone who ever wondered what Brigham Young would look like with a beard of bees, or for those who enjoy LDS-themed puns.

The Nietzsche Family Circus--http://www.losanjealous.com/nfc/

This brilliant site randomly pairs a Family Circus cartoon with a Nietzsche quote. If it wasn't for life, I think I could hit refresh for hours.

Devastating Explosions--http://devastatingexplosions.com/

This seems self explanatory. It took a while to load, but I wasn't disappointed. Overall, it's a fine way to kill five minutes.

Sad Tuba--http://sadtuba.com/

Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication. I use this site in meetings, especially when people are reporting about failed assignments. (True story.)

Brandon Bird's Brandon Bird-O-Rama: http://brandonbird.com/

I love fine art. Though I've been back time and time again, I never get sick of looking through the "paintings" and "drawings" section.

The Importance of Being Ernest

2011-11-18T11:36:00.001-08:00

I think this nineteen-second piece of fine cinema is one of the more apt metaphors for my life:

You and me both, Ernest. You and me both. Sigh.

Scriptural Discussion

2011-11-14T12:16:00.001-08:00

Nephi: O then, if I have seen so great things, if the Lord in his condescension unto the children of men hath visited men in so much mercy, why should my heart weep and my soul linger in the valley of sorrow, and my flesh waste away, and my strength slacken, because of mine afflictions?

Daniel: I don't know, Nephi. I've been wondering that same thing myself. I'm ridiculously blessed and I've had an astounding array of incredible spiritual experiences. My life is littered with witnesses of God's unending love and power, and yet... I'm depressed. I can't seem to feel happy. I was hoping you would have some answers.

Nephi: But, behold, why do ye ponder these things in your hearts? Wherefore, I said unto you, feast upon the words of Christ; for behold, the words of Christ will tell you all things what ye should do.

Daniel: Yeah, I read my scriptures every morning. I love the scriptures. I would be completely lost without the scriptures. And I avoid a lot of misery by keeping the commandments, and I have these wonderful spiritual experiences here and there, but I can't seem to learn how to be happy day by day.

Nephi: Receive the Holy Ghost; it will show unto you all things what ye should do.

Daniel: The Holy Ghost will teach me how to be happy?

Nephi: Yea.

Daniel: He hasn't told me what to do to be happy again yet.

Nephi: Have ye inquired of the Lord?

Daniel: No. Whenever I do that I just get up from my knees without any idea what to think or do.

Nephi: How is it that ye do not keep the commandments of the Lord? How is it that ye will perish, because of the hardness of your heart? Do ye not remember the things which the Lord hath said?—If ye will not harden your hearts, and ask me in faith, believing that ye shall receive, with diligence in keeping my commandments, surely these things shall be made known unto you.

Daniel: Yes, I remember that. I guess I just don't believe that God will actually respond to me. It's hard to trust that all these unseen things go on. I'd much rather just watch TV, distract myself with music and WAY TOO MUCH food, and get sympathy from friends through comments in response to my passive and veiled facebook status updates about being miserable.

Nephi: I do not know the meaning of all things, yet I know that cursed is he that putteth his trust in the arm of flesh. Yea, cursed is he that putteth his trust in man or maketh flesh his arm. Yea, I know that God will give liberally to him that asketh.

Daniel: Sure, but you're NEPHI. Of course YOU know that. It feels like there is less hope for me.

Nephi: You that will not partake of the goodness of God, and respect my words, and the words which shall proceed forth out of the mouth of the Lamb of God, behold, I bid you an everlasting farewell, for these words shall condemn you at the last day.

Daniel: Wait, don't leave. I'm sorry. I didn't mean any disrespect and obviously I don't want to be condemned at the last day. I want to partake of the goodness of God. Really, I do. I just feel lost. I'm sad, confused, tired, and I don't know what I'm doing with my life.

Nephi: I perceive that ye ponder still in your hearts; and it grieveth me that I must speak concerning this thing. For if ye would hearken unto the Spirit which teacheth a man to pray, ye would know that ye must pray.

Daniel: I don't know. It just seems like there should be a better answer. Something more concrete, you know?

Nephi: I, Nephi, cannot say more; the Spirit stoppeth mine utterance, and I am left to mourn because of the unbelief, and the wickedness, and the ignorance, and the stiffneckedness of men; for they will not search knowledge, nor understand great knowledge, when it is given unto them in plainness, even as plain as word can be.

Daniel: Hey, before you go, can I at least get a picture taken with you?

Nephi: Fine. But I'm not going to smile or set down these tongs.

FYI: I Suck

2011-10-12T11:41:00.001-07:00

193 pounds. 15.9% body fat.

FYI

2011-10-03T07:28:00.000-07:00

189 pounds. 14.9% body fat.

(I want to be to 12.5% by the end of the month.)

Signs of Aging

2011-09-30T13:32:00.000-07:00

For me the signs of aging aren't so much the appearance of wrinkles or my north-climbing hairline. The clear mileposts are coming from within.

Here is today's proof that I am becoming an old man:

1. I'm really bothered that young people don't know how to write a letter and have never learned the flower of speech.

2. I just used the phrases "young people" and "flower of speech." I also commonly use the phrases "belle of the ball," "bee's knees," "gangbusters," and "picture show."

3. The office manger did not understand my Magnum P.I. costume.

4. My posture is at 60 degrees.

5. I'm now invited to more funerals than wedding receptions.

6. I'm constantly in dress socks, and have begun mixing dress socks with casual clothes because I can't be bothered to bend low enough to solve the problem.

8. I assume your on drugs.

9. Spokesmen and women are no longer recognizable.

10. Much of my day is spent loudly talking at the technology around me.

The Fall Social

2011-09-22T12:02:00.000-07:00

Invite Friends. Pass Along.

Blogspot Confessional

2011-09-20T10:12:00.000-07:00

These are things I have been holding in and I'm here to unburden myself. There are no crimes, only things I haven't shared.

1. I'm sorry Person X, but I find your endless and unrelenting cheerfulness and optimism uninteresting. Some things are worth recognizing as unfortunate.

2. Person Y, your enthusiasm for the Color Code is a huge turn off. Must every conversation come back to reds, blues, yellows, and whites, and is that really how you want to understand the world?

3. I was a ten-pound baby, and not the slightest bit chubby, I had no hair until I was four, I slept in cardboard boxes, and my dad has never once changed a diaper. This should explain a few things.

Pancakes

2011-09-02T10:26:00.000-07:00

Scout Master Bob* once told me, "Always remember no matter how thin the pancake, there are always two sides." Then he told a story about how he thought his wife misplaced something, there was some kind of marital discord, and, lo and behold, the item had actually fallen behind the dresser.

I've remembered that throughout the years because I've never seen someone be so darn serious when talking about pancakes.

But I do like pancakes as a symbol for duality. Even if they weren't (basically) two-sided, they are an item that inherently lends themselves to mixed feelings. As Mitch Hedberg (R.I.P.) once said, "As a comedian, you have to start the show strong and you have to end the show strong. Those are the two key elements. You can't be like pancakes... all exciting at first, but then by the end you're [darn-tooting] sick of 'em."

Yes, pancakes are two-sided all around.

In the spirit of pancakes, here are two things I have mixed feelings about.

Old People

I love the way old ladies grab the underside of my elbow. I don't know why they do this, but they do, and it's great.

I'm not so much a fan of the way old men often shake my hand throughout the length of a conversation.

Movers and Shakers

I love seeing people out and about walking, running, and biking. It gives a neighborhood energy and I'm all about activity.

I'm not so much a fan of the large people I'm seeing on bicycles these days. Yes, get out and ride a bike. Yes, burn some calories in a low-impact way. No, you don't need to dawn the neck-to-knee spandex. Aerodynamics is neither a factor nor flattering.

*Whose real name was Kerry, but whom we so unrelentingly called "Scout Master Bob" that when later speaking to our church congregation he was announced as "Scout Master Bob." Shortly thereafter he moved.

Holding Up My End: A Public Service Announcement

2011-09-01T11:34:00.000-07:00

In case you grew up the same TV shows and movies as I did, allow me to tell you (from my experience) what things have held up well to the test of time and what things have not.

Held Up

1. Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure
2. Ghost Busters
3. The first few seasons of Law and Order (before anyone really good looking was in the cast)
4. Raising Arizona
5. Pee Wee's Big Adventure

Not Held Up

1. Opportunity Knocks
2. Ghost Busters II
3. Ghost Busters III
4. Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey
5. Alf

On the Line

1. Wayne's World II
2. Regarding Henry
3. News Radio
4. Mathew Broderick (generally)
5. Twin Peaks

Unknown

1. Willow
2. Night Court
3. Mash
4. In Living Color
5. The New Twilight Zone

Polotics as Unusual

2011-08-17T08:38:00.000-07:00

Currently the Great State of Utah (and I mean that) is turning its attention toward creating new political districts. In the past it seems the legislature has used this as an opportunity to gain seats for the majority party.

I think this is wrong, and I let me state representative know it today. Here's how:

. . .

Representative Christensen,

I want to offer my support for fair redistricting, motivated by democratic principles and not by party politics.

I know the men and women who serve in elected office are largely people of character who have tremendous senses of civic responsibility. I am thankful for your sacrifice. I am not trying to impugn anyone's actions or motives--I don't know of any actions or motives worthy of suspicion. But I currently fear the rights of individuals to be represented proportionately is potentially in danger, and I wanted to bring awareness to the issue.

It's no secret conservatives enjoy a majority of support in Utah. I don't see any problem with this. However, to adopt districts with any intent toward diminishing the representative-voice of those who do not identify with conservative principles strikes me as deeply anti-republic.

As you are likely aware, historically state representatives have cut districts aimed at dividing races, ethnicities, and religions--to keep these groups, though numerous, from being a significant factor in any election. People dedicated to the principle that all men are created equal, regardless even of political orientation, will not stand for such legislative disregard of the spirit of our founding.

Please do everything in your power to see that all are protected as redistricting continues; to see that no voice is divided, muted, or marginalized; to ensure to all who are proud to call Utah home, may remain proud to claim the government as their own; to ensure that ideals win elections, and not boundaries.

I hope when the dust settles and the new districts are drawn, there will be a near-perfect correlation between the ratio of those in the state claiming conservative, liberal, and independent beliefs, and those representing us in government who bear the same respective characteristics.

Thank you for your time. Please let me know if I can do anything to help in your service.

Yours,

Daniel R. Staker, J.D.

Blind Ambition

2011-08-08T15:27:00.000-07:00

I've been wearing a lot of ties to work this week. I don't have to. In fact I don't even have to wear shoes. (And many times I don't.)

But lately I've been wearing a lot of ties.

A coworker asked why I was dressing up. I thought for a few seconds, but I didn't have anything to say. So I thought for another few seconds. "I think it's a physical manifestation of pent-up ambition."

Lately my craving for some new enterprise has ranked ahead of cravings for:

Pie
Milkshakes
Naps
Peace and Quiet
Kissy Face

This is BIG. On a personal Richter scale, this is Japan-rattlingly big. It weighs on me. I've been wandering around the house and office and anywhere else I wander saying, "I need a second job... I need a second job... What else can I do?" I've even gone to picturesque settings, looked past horizons and over valleys, and struck thoughtful poses while waiting for ambition's call to strike like lightening.

Nada.

This has been an on-going frustration of my adult life: I feel so perfectly suited for some distinguished work, but I have no idea what that work might be.

I know this is egotistical. I know I AM egotistical. But I'm open to suggestions. What should I be? What should I do? The world should be my oyster; I need to find a way to pry this sucker open.

Former Things

2011-08-01T15:00:00.000-07:00

Hi gang. Remember when I used to write poems and talk about books that I've read? Well, after fighting off the exhaustion of a grueling March-through-June, I'm back.

This weekend I read What the Dog Saw, which is a collection of essays by Malcolm Gladwell (which is a really upbeat last name, if you think about it).

When I told people--roommates and family--I was reading this they almost always asked, "Well, what DID the dog see?" I'm not sure if they are curious, or just being smart. But in case you're like them and your curious, the answer is body language. That's what the dog saw.

Here's what I saw.

I'm fascinated with Gladwell as an author. He seldom tells me anything I haven't read elsewhere, yet he's such a remarkably clear-headed writer. And that is why he's a millionaire and I'm not an any-kind-of-aire.

I was about 100 pages into The Tipping Point, Gladwell's first bestseller, when I read a sentence that I thought was clunky and a bit out of place. That's amazing. Usually I'll encounter sentence-itch in the first chapter, even in an incredibly well written book. Mad props, Gladwell.

But I figured out your formula. And, without further ado, I give you the Gladwell Code:

1. This thing seems pretty great and/or is widely accepted.
2. However this thing is not what it seems.
3. We can learn a lesson about this thing by comparing it to another thing that--though seemingly very different--is actually kind of like the original thing that we all thought was pretty great and/or is widely accepted.
4. The thing is more complicated than we supposed, and we need to be careful about the thing.

I'm not complaining. (I'm not sure if Malcolm is a reader of this blog or not.) I'm just proud of myself for seeing the forest through the trees.

* * *

You might also remember that I am kind of a jerk, but I'm not entirely jaded. I'm not sure if I'm getting any sweeter, but I do have another sacrament meeting poem.

Preacher says,
____Repent,
____and He'll forgive!

And I think,
____Yes, that's just
____the way to live.

Preacher says,
____Love one another;
____try to do right.

And I think,
____Sure would be nice
____to sleep at night.

* * *

However, in the interest of full disclosure, I also recently wrote this poem about a famous children's book:

"I know some games
we can play!"

That Cat was a pervert.

Most animals
in clothes

are.

Conclusion: still fairly jaded.

Yo' Mother Earth

2011-07-27T15:16:00.000-07:00

I'd love to visit outer space, but I wouldn't want to live there. Living on the earth is great.

Think about it: there is so much majesty, yet we also have plenty of water-slide parks and go-kart tracks. Yes, when it comes to human comforts, planet Earth really does have it all.

Tim DeChristopher is all crazy about the earth too. A few years ago, as a 27-year-old college student, he showed up to a BLM oil-lease auction and started bidding away. He won 14 leases that day. (Ambitious for a college student.) Unfortunately for the BLM, Tim had no intention of paying up. He was only there to make life harder for oil companies.

Fast-forward a few years and Tim is convicted of two felony counts of mucking things up for rich people, and is sentenced to two years in prison, and given a $10,000 fine.

My thoughts on the matter are largely unimportant. (But I'll let you know, in case you're curious.) My first reaction was, "Shame on the BLM auctioneers for waiting until this twenty-something-dude won 14 leases before pulling the cord." Shouldn't they have known something was up much sooner?

I thought the whole thing was kind of funny.

I also thought the leases were rushed to auction and not well thought out. (An opinion the courts happened to later agree with.)

Finally, I generally think it's a waste of legal resources to pursue any criminal case when there is an adequate civil law remedy. (Let the oil companies and BLM sue this guy, clear his bank accounts, garnish his wages, and make the guy miserable for years, and don't let him become a hero by serving jail time.) I mean, we paid for this guys trial and he was prosecuted at the expense of not prosecuting someone else.

All of that said, I don't have any strong feelings about Tim of Christopher; I do have strong feelings about idiocy, bad advocacy, and wry observations. Enter the protesters and my friend Christopher (no relation to DeChristopher)...

Prior to Tim's sentencing hearing, Christopher received this (horrible) email, which is ridiculous enough that it's worth quoting in its entirety:

America is broken. The people get it, and something's starting.

Folks are calling for an occupation of DC to end the wars and protect the planet. Others are pushing for an occupation of Wall Street to end the funding for the destruction. Still others are engaging in direct action and civil disobedience against mountaintop removal, the tar sands pipeline, and fossil fuels in general. And rabble-rousers around the country are calling for an end to corporate rights and rule.

But you don't have to go to DC to act, and you don't have to wait to say a holy NO to catastrophic climate change. Because it's happening right here in Salt Lake City, right now.

On Tuesday, Tim DeChristopher will be sentenced for successfully preventing oil and gas drilling on Utah wilderness lands. Tim engaged in civil disobedience to save the planet, and now he's facing years in federal prison while the real carbon crooks go free.

This is an outrage. But it's going to take a lot more than outrage to stop this crazy, cliff-defying train of injustice. It's going to take all of us doing what Tim did: taking direct action against the fossil fuel industry to keep carbon in the ground.

And that's what we intend to do.

The first step is getting your body down to Exchange Plaza on Tuesday, July 26th at noon to demonstrate your solidarity with Tim and your objection to eco-injustice.

There'll be political theater, singing, dancing, resisting, rebuilding, and getting ready.

Be there.

I will only say one thing about this call to action: "cliff-defying train of injustice."

But it turns out all the political theater, singing, and dancing wasn't really persuasive to 20-year Federal Judge Dee Benson, who sent Tim away to the joint for two years.

When Christopher heard about the sentence he remarked, "Considering when he gets out, he's got a book deal and a fine career as a paid public speaker, it beats graduate school."

The protestors weren't so insightful or impassive, and chose to react to the news by making a human chain across the Trax line. Christopher texted me: "Way to stick it to big oil and gas companies; disrupting public transportation."

(ABC News: http://www.abc4.com/content/news/slc/story/Bidder-70-protestors-released-from-jail-after/4yPfWMWJCEmWlOuHdxA5Rg.cspx)

Another apt observation.

He further summed up the situation:

I read the paper today and they interviewed this lady who was on the Trax train [the protesters] blocked. She was like, "I'm trying to get home from work to be with my family. These people don't even have jobs." I only knew one of them, but darned if she wasn't right about that one.

Nothing blocks meaningful debate and progress like villainizing the opposition, and no one makes so few converts as the zealot. Nietzsche once said, "The most perfidious way of harming a cause consists of defending it deliberately with faulty arguments." He might have also added, "and political theater" to the end of his quote, and darned if he wouldn't have been right.

Private Letters Reveal Einstein was Full of It

2011-03-24T12:08:00.000-07:00

It appears Einstein might have been no Einstein. Recently discovered letters show the iconic physicist was, in his own words, sometimes "just [making] crap up."

The letters document an ongoing correspondence between Einstein and fellow German physicist and Nobel Prize winner Max Planck. For the most part they are letters you would expect between colleagues--a kind of intellectual exchange--but sometimes a lighter, playful, even at times juvenile side comes through.

Perhaps most interesting, though, are the letters discussing Einstein's 1905 paper about mass-energy equivalences. This is the paper that gave birth to the best-known equation of the 20th century: E=mc2 (squared).

Shortly after the paper's release, Planck wrote Einstein asking for clarification about the soon-to-be-famous formula. "This does not make sense to me," he challenged. "Though I respect your ability, try as I might, I cannot seem to follow your work. E=mc2 is a puzzle to me and I doubt its veracity."

"Maxy, don't be such a jerk," Einstein began his reply. "Of course you cannot follow it. Sometimes I just make crap up." Einstein went on to explain a different sort of theory.

"People are insecure," and if you lose them in a little math, throw in some things that are impossible to explain, they will "half of the time say you are brilliant rather than admit they have no idea what you are talking about."

He went on to explain: "Energy is equal to mass times the speed of light squared? What does it even mean? Of course it's nonsense. A doughnut fits in your hand and weighs like 3 ounces, and the speed of light squared is like some really ginormous number. If you multiply those things together, does it come out to 300 calories? Maybe. I highly doubt it. But I don't think anyone knows for sure and that's just the thing. You can't measure or verify it, but it sure as [expletive] sounds impressive."

In subsequent letters Einstein reveals earlier rejected drafts that he considered for the famous equation. While they still leave us clueless when it comes to understanding the universe, they do give some insight into Einstein's process as a writer. The earlier drafts include:

Candle is equal to mass times a million, divided by 6.674.
Energy is equal to the gravitational constant squared, times pi.
Mass is equal to 42.

The International Language: Love's Labors Lost in Translation

2011-02-28T14:30:00.000-08:00

Just in case you weren't raised on a steady diet of 1980's television and movies, let me take you to a cinematic place called Better Off Dead.

I believe the moral of the story was that meeting a French girl will fix up your boss Camaro and completely eliminate your severe suicidal ideation.

Sounds great, right? But where in Your-Town, U.S.A. do you find a French girl? Well, in the movie she came courtesy of the next-door neighbors via some kind of foreign exchange program.

Unfortunately this exchange was not about cross-culturization--no happy commingling of fromage and apple pie, or baseball and wine swilling. No, this poor phillie was brought across the sea by the neighbors for the sole purpose of making a love connection with the unsightly Ricky.

If you want to know more, you should go to your local netfilx and rent the movie. But for our purposes here you only need know at one point it is said that though Ricky doesn't speak any French, and the phillie doesn't speak any English, the two are nevertheless communicating just fine using the international language.

The audience is then left to uncomfortably laugh at the idea of the grotesque, fat American having a romantic relationship with the attractive, captive French chick.

What's the point? I'm not sure. But I've recently had a brush-up with the romance on the world wide web--and trust me, it is world wide. I'm not sure if Ricky and the Frenchette were able to communicate any better, but in my limited experience courtship and attraction doesn't necessary translate well.

And with that very, very long introduction, I now present to you a collection of emails I have entitled "The International Language: Love's Labors Lost in Translation." While I think they are funny, I am not poking fun. I promise. It's funny like all of us are funny, and I think, above all else, this is adorable.

hi... desire to make many friends

Don't we all?

oh! I not though you get write to me...but thnak you!:).... yeah I had a great sunday really!!:):) nice to meet you DANIEL!!

You are very welcome. I'm glad you had a nice day.

oh! Thank you Daniel!!...How was your day! here in Peur it is summer and great but sometimes not ahaha weel...I work doing proyecto envorimental I study it...and I love it career really.....I'm member as 14 years and u dear friend?.

Uh... It's winter here. There is a lot of snow. And I've been LDS for all my life.

oh much snow there it must be beautifull but difficult for the card !! no?.......oh woww all your life you are member of the church woww I glad for you friend!.....
Well we are in summer here in Perú....all quite!!:)yeah, you have luck:) hahahaaaa I believe it ...I think all your family is member truth....I glad for u really.... How was your day?....... You meet people by this?.

I am very lucky. And you are right, the snow is beautiful but hard to drive in. No, I haven't met anyone from the internet. The idea kind of creeps me out.

Wow, lol How you get creeped out? I have. :) been interesting. Mostly I meet great people :)
you look so official in your clothes. i like good guys:) :) Muy guapo must say!

Well, if you must...

Report

2011-02-24T15:12:00.000-08:00

More miserable failure.

1. Sleep goal: One out of ten. (I'm going to need an intervention.)
2. Writing goal: Maybe one page out of three.
3. Reading goal: Still one book ahead.

Last week's book was Blink.

I really enjoyed it. The book wasn't nearly as helpful as it could've been, and the content was largely stuff I had read elsewhere, but Gladwell can flat out write. The book moved quickly and was engaging.

However, Gladwell does quote some police men, and police men do swear like sailors. Be ye forewarned.

Sacrament Poetry

2011-02-19T15:51:00.000-08:00

I've been accused of being cynical. Or maybe the word was "jaded." Either way, I didn't take it personally and I wouldn't refute it. (In fact, I'm usually impressed when people have the candor to be so honest with me.)

So I am jaded. It's true. But it's not the whole truth.

Sometimes I can be humane and vulnerable and cuddly and down-right, boyishly naive. I'm complex. But these poems aren't.

I wrote them all in LDS Sacrament meetings, and I didn't write them because I was bored. (Which is something a jaded person would do.) But because I was touched and wanted to give in to things that I didn't understand. (Which is something a person who is only sometimes jaded can do.)

Orderville

________Shuffling boots
____and cowboy-cut suits,
_________row after row
_of heads seldom combed

_________Still-wet parts
brave boys battling callicks
________Contrite hearts
_____worn by earth's grit.

_________Humble men,
_____taller than steeples.

Warts and All

He...
He came down, born in a manger.
And the Child
grew and waxed and filled with wisdom.
He knew man,
in all points tempted as we are,
yet without sin.

He knelt in that garden and pled,
Let this cup pass...
Nevertheless, He drank the cup
to the bottom.
And now He really knew mankind--
warts and all.

It was a miracle
that He died
and rose up on the third day.
It's a miracle
that He suffered for my sins
in The Garden
and suffered all over again
on The Cross.

But it's no less a miracle
that knowing me
and that knowing you--
warts and all--
He still wanted to take us
Home with Him
Because He really does know us
and still loves
Us.

Red Checkmarks

Josephus B. Waters,

Check.

Everette Cain,

Check.

James G. Bennet,
Hyrum L. Pizor,
William Blakeslee,

Check.
Check.
Check.

One by one,
all together.

Gone for now,
but not forever.

Check.

Drop by Drop, aka The Sunbeam

Drop by drop,
blue, green, orange, and brown,
M&Ms fall
into the empty sacrament cup.
I don't think
Jesus would be displeased.
After all,
He wants this little boy
for a sunbeam.

Backblog

2011-02-14T10:05:00.000-08:00

So I'm a little behind.

Which is both an accurate description of my circumstances and of my personality.

Let's look at my goals for the past three weeks.

1. Sleeping.

I have no idea how I'm doing on this, but I'm not doing a great job. I was busy. And I got sick. And there was one night last week where I didn't sleep at all. My guess is I'm still hovering around 25% to 33%. I might have to do some tinkering to get this going in ernest (misspelling intentional out of deference to James Varney, R.I.P.)

2. Reading.

I'm crushing it. Since last reporting I have read, chronologically: Truman, The Wednesday Wars, Change Anything: The New Science to Personal Success, and The Back of the North Wind.

Truman was a masterpiece. Heartbreakingly good. McCullough shifted seamlessly from the intimate and personal to broader global and historical context, and the compelling nature of the story was never lost.

The book has crystal clear, incredible detail, but never seems to get bogged down. The prose is largely without fault--a real accomplishment for a 1,000 page biography--but more impressive still is the great mental effort that went into collecting, sorting, refining, and arranging the pieces.

It's a tapestry of thousands and thousands of threads, laid out and arranged to near perfection.

I seldom gush. Even when people ask me about my favorite books, I will typically address the one or two flaws I found. Not here. I was overwhelmed by the accomplishment, and I can't say anything otherwise.

3. Writing.

I think in the past few weeks I netted two or three pages. Not stellar. In addition to the novel I've been working on, I started a short story about a conversation between a lark and a Catholic priest.

I'm pretty sure Hollywood will want to make the lark/priest story into a full-length motion picture because I've chosen a premise with such universal appeal.

Makes sense.

The First and the Last

2011-02-10T12:05:00.000-08:00

When I say coach, I mean Jerry Sloan.

The Original Bull...

The last of the Jazz Legends.

Whenever I say coach, I mean Jerry Sloan.

Full Report

2011-01-24T15:45:00.000-08:00

While we're peaking behind curtains, let's look into my brain...

The problem with set up offers, I thought, was that people are not as selective on behalf of others as they are for themselves. I realized quickly that, "I know someone perfect for you," roughly meant, "Hey, I know at least two single people."

So I began nursing a little theory the last week. The idea was that if I sounded picky and demanding enough--like an elitist snob--then I could scare off those without well considered set up recommendations.

While I seriously doubted anyone would make lists of the five smartest and the ten most attractive women she knew, I did think the request would at least inspire something besides the lowest common denominator (single status). I thought I might ensure thoughtful recommendations.

My theory was incorrect. Lesson learned.

Apparently to many people I know this:

Anyone wishing to set me up may do so sans contractual agreement, however, I sincerely ask that you go through three simple steps.

Make a list of the five smartest women that you know. ANY women.
Make a list of the ten most attractive women that you personally know. ANY women.
If any women is on both lists, and is single, and has aspirations for a temple marriage, and is AT LEAST 22.5 years old, I would love to meet her.

Is indistinguishable from this:

Please immediately send me the name of any woman you can think of, whether or not she is in rehab, is more than a decade younger than I am, or you've ever actually met her.

I do not mean to say that everyone I heard from was inconsiderate. I did get nice messages from a few thoughtful friends. However, since Friday night I have received about twenty-five set up offers, and I don't mind saying that most of them have been terrible.

Until I can think of a new and improved policy, I'm going back to the Set Up Contract, effective immediately.

Onto my goals...

1. Bedtime/Wake up goal: 37.5%
2. Book goal: 100% (The Fifth Mountain)
3. Writing goal: 0%

The Set Up II

2011-01-21T18:26:00.000-08:00

Here is the current deal:

It's the weekend.
Despite being brilliant, relatively in shape, financially sound, witty, good looking, and not at all obnoxious...
I still have absolutely no plans.

While the rest of you are managing bath night, the changing of diapers, and trying to locate a babysitter for the weekly rekindling of your marital flame, I got nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Let's peak behind the wizard's curtain. Great and terrible, come look at my social life...

January is 20 days old and despite having a full-time job and numerous church responsibilities, I have managed to read about 1,700 pages of books or magazines, watched the seventh season of Monk, am halfway through the eighth season, took a vacation and spent a full day driving in the car, and did it all on my own.

When I wrote my original "Set Up Contract," I intended to suppress offers. It has worked. It has worked very, very well. After more than a year, when faced with the contract only one person has persisted. (And he was disqualified for failing to meet the due diligence clause.)

I'm beginning to think the contract works too well.

Here is the new experiment:

Anyone wishing to set me up may do so sans contractual agreement, however, I sincerely ask that you go through three simple steps.

Make a list of the five smartest women that you know. ANY women.
Make a list of the ten most attractive women that you personally know. ANY women.
If any women is on both lists, and is single, and has aspirations for a temple marriage, and is AT LEAST 22.5 years old, I would love to meet her.

Is this still ridiculous? Yes. Is it demanding and unreasonable? Yes. But I've learned through sad experience that when people want to set me up with a woman, generally the main thing she and I have in common is someone's mutual pity. And that is also ridiculous and unreasonable.

Fire, meet fire.

Book Report II

2011-01-18T07:55:00.000-08:00

Maybe this will be the kind of situation where things get worse before they get better.

1. Bedtime/wake-time goal: 20%
2. Reading goal: 100%
3. Writing goal: 83%

This week's book was The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, by David Wroblewski.

It's Hamlet, but with a mute boy and dog farm. It was very good, but the fact remains that when I finished it I thought, "Hey, that wasn't as good as Hamlet but at least it was much, much longer" (562 pages). Therefore, my takeaway is that if you're going to rewrite something, you probably shouldn't pick anything widely considered to be in the top 10%. Stick with the junk the Greeks and Nordic peoples made up.

My favorite scene: In Edgar Sawtelle the "murder play" is staged not by an acting troupe, but by trained dogs carrying syringes in their mouths. As good as Shakespeare was, I think this adaptation is probably closer to his original intent.

Book Report

2011-01-10T09:38:00.000-08:00

Turns out my own personal resolution is poor--real low def kind of stuff--like a 1980's jumbo-tron resolution.

Out of ten possible chances to go to bed and wake up at a decent hour, I capitalized three times. 30%. It would make a great batting average, but a terrible free-throw percentage, and I believe in terms of letter grades it's a solid "F."

The bright spot is that I'm 100% in my other goal. I did read a book last week: Men to Match My Mountains.

It is a "biography" of the Far West, meaning California, Nevada, Utah, and Colorado. My favorite moment was when one historian commented that Brigham Young would have been a great man if only he hadn't of been a Mormon. Interesting.

The takeaway from the book was that scoundrels eventually die penniless and/or lonely, while nice guys often live in gradual and consistent crescendo.

I also distinctly saw two kinds of capitalists. There were those who worked tirelessly to provide a benefit to others, and who hoped to take a rightful share of the increase. I like to think of these as value-adding capitalists. Sure, they want a slice of the pie like everyone else--they may even want a very large slice--but rather than take from others, they seek to make the pie bigger. Everyone benefits.

Then there are value-diminishing capitalists. They do not add any benefits, but seek to manipulate the "rules of the game" to redirect capital from others' pockets into their own. They artificially inflate and deflate prices, use tricks to modify demand, limit supply, and frustrate the efforts of competitors. These are the jerks.

It's a good contrast for me to heed since one of my favorite past times is looking for "legal" ways to make board and card games dysfunctional. Heaven help any of the poor suckers who try to play Pit with me.

High Resolutions

2010-12-31T15:01:00.000-08:00

Hey America (Brian)--

Here are my resolutions for 2011:

1. Go to bed by 11:30 on "school nights" and get up at 6:30 on "school days."
2. Read fifty-two books.
3. Write 150 pages in my own book.

Feel free to follow up with me and hold me accountable.

Christmas Carol--Act One

2010-12-01T08:59:00.000-08:00

I'm a man who has a lot of notebooks. And almost every one of those notebooks has a few lines from a few Christmas carols inside. The accumulation of verse fragments happens in a seven-step process (obviously).

Step one: I'll be sitting somewhere minding my own business.

Step two: I hear a Christmas song.

Step three: I think it's pleasant enough.

Step four: But then I really start paying attention.

Step five: And before too long a line comes along that cuts me straight through.

Step six: When that happens I feel like I have to do something.

Step seven: So I pull out a notebook and write the line down.

So, Brian, here are some fragments. I hope this adds some festivity to your Holiday Season.

No more will sins and sorrows grow,
Nor thorns infest the ground.
He'll come and make the blessings flow
Far as the curse was found.

In a vision Ezekiel saw water flowing from underneath the temple toward the baron, inhospitable, desert wilderness to the east.

The Dead Sea valley is as cursed as a place as there can be. On the west it's buffeted by a wall of mountains that trap storms and needed precipitation on the eastern side. The valley itself is physically and likely metaphorically the lowest place on earth. Not only does nothing live in the water--which has so much salt and heavy metals that an 8 oz. glass of it would kill most grown men--but nothing lives in the valley. Period.

Yet, returning to what Ezekiel saw, as the Living Water flowed from the temple--the house of Living Waters--and cut a path to the Dead Sea, trees began to grow, animals returned, fish came and flourished, and all life was restored as the waters and valley were healed.

He will come and make blessing flow everywhere the curse is found. I'm so grateful for that Holy Infant.

A Space Pleasantry

2010-09-03T07:44:00.000-07:00

Ground Control to Major Tom:
Take your protein pills and put your helmet on.

(Ten...) Ground Control (Nine...) to Major Tom: (Eight...)
(Seven, six...) Commencing countdown (Five); engines on. (Four...)
(Three, two...) Check ignition (One...) and may God's (Blastoff!) love be with you.

This is Ground Control to Major Tom:
You've really made the grade!
And the papers want to know whose shirts you wear...

Now it's time to leave the capsule if you feel comfortable.

This is Major Tom to Ground Control:
Thanks. They are Van Heusen's...

Okay, now I'm stepping through the door,
and I'm bringing back the most delightful souvenirs.
Anyone want a moon shot glass? Or space spoon?
Oh! Planet Earth is blue!

Roger, that's earth alright.

Though I'm past one hundred thousand miles, I'm feeling very still.
And I think my spaceship knows which way to go.

Copy that. That would be the ship's automated piloting program.

Oh, well, it's very helpful.
Hey, will you tell my wife I love her very much?

Roger. Will do... Okay, we're sending her the text message... now!

Ground Control to Major Tom:
Your circuit's dead, but the axillary circuit has taken over.
You know this ship has more than 500 backup systems?

Do you copy, Major Tom?
Can you hear me Major Tom?

Yep, I am just sitting up here in my "ol' tin can" far above the moon.
Planet Earth is blue, it's really very pretty, and I was distracted for a bit.

How to Be Perfectly Miserable

2010-06-30T10:25:00.000-07:00

It's not all fun and games around here. In fact, it's not any fun and games around here. Let's get down to business; I'm kind of an expert, and I have a lot of ground to cover.

1. Develop your sense of entitlement.
Constantly reflect on the things society, God, family, and friends owe you. If you're on the fence about any particular thing, count it. You don't have to be right; you just have to be sure. Start your day with a few minutes meditation on all the things others need to do for you. End your day by reflecting on all the ways those in your life have disappointed you and failed your expectations.

2. Never forgive nor forget.
Now that others are constantly disappointing you, hold grudges like playing cards--fan them out wide so you can always see them and keep them close to your heart. Why should you stop being bothered by something today just because it happened in the past? Every offense against you can be carried like an arrow in the quiver, and you may need the ammunition later on when someone asks you for a favor, addresses one of your flaws, or tries to redeem himself. Be vigilant; people have a nasty habit of trying to improve themselves despite being horrible.

Don't be suckered into believing others can change or that you might be wrong about them--if you let up for one moment, they may escape out from under your thumb. Take offense where none was intended. Feed your paranoia. And never miss a chance to make assumptions that reflect poorly on the intentions of others.

3. Compare Yourself to Others.
Match your best qualities to the worst qualities of others. This will reassure you that you are better than everyone else, thus strengthening your sense of entitlement and justifying your grudges. If you come up against someone who manages to outshine you, reverse your strategy and compare your worst attributes to their best attributes. This will make you feel terribly bad about yourself, and that will make hating them easier, which will also keep the fires of entitlement and resentment burning.

4. But Do Not Think of Others.
Here is where it can get complicated. While you are encouraged to think about grudges and traits, don't get caught up thinking about the people behind the disgruntlements and attributes. Thinking of others can lead to losing your sense of entitlement. Being perfectly miserable is a balancing act and there are a lot of ways to find yourself accidentally happy--don't lean so far toward other people that you can no longer stay self-centered.

Accidental moments of happiness will occur most frequently when you are focused on family, friends, or neighbors. If you ever find yourself losing your balance, return to center by asking, "What's in this for me?"

5. Isolate Yourself.
If you fill your house with stuff and things, you will have no need for people. Spend as much time as possible alone watching TV, surfing the internet, playing video games, or reading celebrity gossip magazines. When a human calls you, let them go to voice mail.

If those around you relentlessly try to break your isolation, then use impersonal means of communication to placate them---catch up with friends on a social networking site instead of in real life, or reply via text message. When you must interact with others, do it in the most dehumanizing way possible---see if you can strip people of facial expressions, body language, tone, and other cues that might make them relatable. Once you allow an individual to become a human, you run the risk of identifying and even (shudder) sympathizing with her. This will make steps 1-4 much more difficult. If you find yourself getting caught up in humanizing others, try using people as objects. Philandering can be helpful here. Have a relationship with a man because of his income, or be intimate with a woman strictly because of her body. Stereotypes can only help. Staying shallow avoids entanglement.

6. Avoid Dealing with Problems.
This is the sister principle to personal isolation. Dealing with problems can lead to forgiveness, improvement, relief, and other positive feelings. Never respond to a voice message unless you have to. If you get something in the mail that needs your attention or might inconvenience you, throw it away--you won't have to deal with it once it's in the garbage. Ignore bills, duck responsibility, don't clean up after yourself, etc. If it sounds, smells, or looks like work, hide from it. If you cannot hide, start by doing the least you can.

If someone does something you do not like, don't address the problem. Let it fester. If that person insists on talking, make him disposable---block him from your phone, filter his emails, pretend your not at home when he stops by, etc. Eat the orange and throw out the peel--once you've gotten all you want from another, the moment a relationship becomes difficult instead of fun, toss it out of your life.

7. Lose Your Freedom.
The ability to choose and to act for yourself can be dangerous, because you never know when it might lead to a feeling of accomplishment. Be creative. We all know people who are slaves to debt, drugs, and alcohol. These are good places to start, but there are so many other ways to bind yourself in chains.

Make it a point to avoid education and hold to ignorance. Assume your political party is always right, and let it make up your mind for you lest you should be open to new ideas. Try being overweight and out of shape. A pornography or sex addiction can be particularly helpful, because it limits autonomy and dehumanizes others. Don't keep a regular sleeping schedule so you can be tired all the time. Not only will this help to prevent you from leaving the house, helping others, or doing work, but you typically make your worst decisions when you're tired, and a miserable life is built one bad decision at a time.

Perfection in any area isn't easy to achieve, but you may only be seven steps away from being perfectly miserable. And then won't life be great?

A Cautionary Tale

2010-06-01T13:00:00.001-07:00

Magpie by name;
mocking bird by métier.

Squawk! Squawk! Squawk!
Can't!___Get!___Me!

Squawk! Squawk! Squawk!
Oh!____Too!___Slow!

Squawk! Squawk! Squawk!
Neener!_Neener!...

--CHOMP!--

O' Magpie, Magpie,
mocking bird by métier,

didn't you know?
Wasn't it clear?

The Jack Russell Terrier
NEVER quits--by métier.

30 Years After Birth

2010-05-27T16:49:00.001-07:00

This could only mean one thing...

It's birthday time in White City. Let us celebrate appropriately with an artistic interpretation of my grand entrance into life, staged at the White Towers Pool. (Not to be confused with the skin-head billiards hall, "White Power Pool.")

Here:
Birthdayvaganza!
June 5th, 2010 at 3:00 PM
White Towers Pool
White City, UT

In years past it has always cost $2. I assume it will be about the same this year. Bring food if you want to eat food. Maybe we'll all get pot lucky. I'm thinking of bringing pizza (cheap), or possibly hot dogs (cheaper), but I'm not sure if they will let me bring in a grill or not.

Call if you want a food assignment. 801.831.5905

And bring who you will, but let's keep this PG; I'll have nieces and nephews there.

To My Beloved Class of 2010:

2010-05-15T21:50:00.000-07:00

To my beloved Class of 2010:

Our time together has been marked by sacrifice. The cost of our enlightenment has been significant, perhaps even severe, and each one of us has keenly felt the loss of money, sleep, confidence, and days that might have been spent in a million ways more pleasant. For three years frustration, anxiety, and tedium have been near-constant companions, while success and approbation have been fleeting, impossible to long savor. At times this disparity has seemed unjust, even cruel. Yet this inequity that has caused so much disgruntled murmuring and created so much nagging self-doubt, has provided the crucible that helped forge our minds and character.

Contrary to belief, trial by ordeal has not been eliminated from the justice system; it has merely been removed from defendants and applied to law students. Like millstones around our necks, teachers added one more book to the load, one more concept to our mind, one more review to the schedule. Through reserves of strength previously unknown, we refused to sink under the burden. We survived. And today we are assumed innocent, free from charges of inadequacy and ignorance.

There will undoubtedly be trials ahead; life will guarantee each of us many additional days of grief and worry. But today is sacred. Today is our day—the day we have worked and longed and struggled for. Today we must neither succumb to doubt nor let any untoward thought corrupt what we have earned. Today we are absolutely the wonderful, capable, strong, bright, and beautiful people we always suspected or hoped we might be.

As we enjoy ourselves, let us be fair with praise earned by others and remember the right to celebrate is not ours alone. Every member of our Class has been helped by a professor willing to clarify, re-clarify, and clarify again, or by a staff member who patiently answered our repeated inane questions. We are opinionated and assertive people, and our family and friends can attest that law students do not always make the best company. Therefore, all the more remarkable that the S.J. Quinney College of Law has been a gracious host.

Having mentioned friends and family, we must also recognize all the spouses who have felt neglected, and all the children and companions who lost our time, attention, and interest to books. To those who willingly, or even begrudgingly, laid money, vacations, evening plans, and other quality moments on the altar of law school, we offer our sincere gratitude.

With all those who have paid dearly for this moment, let us now embrace our accomplishment and fully accept the honor it is our right to have bestowed upon us: we are doctors of law.

Inasmuch as we have assumed this distinction through sacrifice, let us reverence that sacrifice by permanently committing to the root of our scholarly devotion, and ever give ourselves to the law.

With such a broad call to dedication, I do not speak of the law as statutes or a list of rules. Rather I speak of an ideal—the beautiful and holy concept that allows women and men of every generation and origin to be free from the dictates of king, tyrant, state, cleric, god, or devil. To allow an individual the freedom to act for himself reasonably assured of the result is to give him his full and true humanity, and that is law.

Accordingly, as practioners of the law, we are entrusted with a great responsibility. To be worthy we must sometimes literally, but always figuratively, both prosecute and defend. In the worship of power and profit, there will inevitably be some aiming to turn people into property, humanity into holdings, and justice into jetsam. The call here extended to us, the responsibility attendant with our rights, is to unwaveringly stand between humankind and anyone who would seek to desecrate law.

The law must be true and reliable; it must be our constant. Governments will rise and fall, markets will ebb and flow. Floods, earthquakes, calamities, and death will come without our consent. Life is full of things we did not create and cannot control. But the law is ours—we are now its stewards and we must unfailingly tend to it.

For each of us a day will come when we will hold some element of pure law in our hands—for someone, somewhere, we will be able to ensure or restore her most precious humanity. I believe our lifetime’s will see “that special moment when [fate figuratively taps us] on the shoulder to do a special thing unique to [us] and fitted to [our] talents.

“What a tragedy if that moment finds [us] unprepared[,] unqualified[, or uncommitted] for the work [that would have otherwise been our] finest hour.”

May it never be so said of the Class of 2010. May we always be counted worthy of the sacrifices we now commemorate.

Thank you.

(S.J. Quinney College of Law commencement, May 14, 2010.)

Immortal Beloved

2010-05-02T19:25:00.000-07:00

Sunrise. Sunset. Of course the winding down of another NBA season has me contemplating my own fanaticism and death.

With no further explanation, I give you my collection of inscriptions for Jazz tombstones:

"Stockton to God."

"A gentle push, a mild arc, and the cow-hide Hundley hits home."

And last, but not least, the Mailman in his own words...

"Karl Malone Dead."

The Future is Now

2010-04-23T14:03:00.000-07:00

This is the day your life will surely change...

(Make sure your speakers are on, right click on this
link, select open in a new tab, leave the tab open,
then switch back to this tab and continue reading.)

Anyone of average intelligence can invent a joke, but only a genius can create a whole new species of joke. Bring your kids into the room. Take a picture of you and today's newspaper in front of your computer screen. Comedy will never be the same.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Ring-Ring Joke.

As you might suspect, it is of the Knock-Knock Joke genus, and goes as follows:

Amuser: Ring-Ring

Amusee: How may I direct your call?

Amuser: (Set up goes here.)

Amusee: To which (repeats set up).

Amuser: (Hilarious punchline.)

Some of your old Knock-Knocks are immediately compatible:

Ring-ring...

How may I direct your call?

To banana.

To which banana?

Ring-ring...

Etc.

Other Knock-Knocks are not compatible:

Ring-ring...

How may I direct your call?

To I-eap.

To which I-eap?

Uh...

Some old Knock-Knocks will take on a whole new flavor:

Ring-ring...

How may I direct your call?

To the Interruptive Cow.

To which Interruptive Cow?

To Dennis Hasting, that jerk in the Sales Department.

But mostly this new genre is a blank canvess:

Ring-ring...

How may I direct your call?

To Is.

To which is?

To whichis (riches) beyond youw (your) wildest imagination!

Now go and do thou likewise...

Reverse Engineering

2010-03-22T12:34:00.000-07:00

I thought of a new joke...

No, that's not right.

I thought of a new punchline...

Ready?

Ready?

Here goes:

Smells like Byzantine spirit!

Or maybe it's just turkey I'm smelling...

Some things you probably haven't thought of in a while...

2010-03-11T10:00:00.000-08:00

Squirrel Nut Zippers
Napster
Roots Berets

Hale-Bopp
Mmmbop
Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm

Sega Genesis
That old guy in Arrested Development (the band) that danced
Arrested Development (the band)

Giga Pets
The Club
Ramblin' Rootbeer

Rasta
Chums
"Not the Momma!"

That's enough. That's more than enough.

A Hard Crowd's Bathroom

2010-03-09T10:31:00.000-08:00

This morning I was in the bathroom getting ready for the day ahead when I saw a large, very long legged spider on the floor next to me. The bolt of inspiration struck from parts beyond, and I reflexively leaned over and said in my best Paul’s grandfather’s voice: “I betchya you’re a good skimmer!”

The spider didn’t laugh. At all.

I started to worry that I had offended her with the anti-feminism reference. But maybe she had just never seen A Hard Day’s Night.

Cupid's Arrow Lost

2010-03-08T09:08:00.000-08:00

Miss...
Hey Miss...

You don't go to Target on a Saturday night.
_____It might truly break your heart--

couples clogging aisles, holding hands,
_____and you don't have any man.

No, you shouldnta' come to Target on a Saturday night,
_____pensively pushing your quiet cart.

That woman has more kids than she can handle on her own,
_____but you might die in your apartment all alone.

Yes, I'm sorry you came to Target on a Saturday night,
_____with your already tired and aching heart,

unescorted by anyone else...
All by yourself.

Confessionzz: My Unauthorized Autobiography

2010-02-05T14:43:00.000-08:00

Chapter One: From Birth to After Birth

Nearly thirty years ago, at 4:32PM on a Tuesday in June, the human race gained ten pounds. I remember the day and specific time because I was rooting around my parent's bedroom and found my birth certificate while I was in elementary school child. In those days, TV's Night Court was in syndication on Fox; it happened to air on Tuesday's at 4:30.

"Great," I thought to myself. "I was born in time for Night Court." And the details of my arrival have remained with me since.

To some people this might seem precocious. I would've agreed, until I watched an episode in my adulthood. Then I wondered what was wrong with my father, who used to watch with me, on occasions when I wasn't rummaging through his drawers. Maybe there was nothing wrong. Perhaps it was merely a simpler time. Though I do like to think of myself as precocious...

I was born breech. This has always made sense to me, and if I were president of the baby's union this would be standard practice. Not only does it seem more reasonable spatially, but it strikes me as cautious. Adults would never go head-first into a void. My parents didn't even want me going head-first down the slide. And yet we expect babies to be forced out of the only world they've ever known, to heaven knows what awaits beyond, head-leading-the-way.

Even if only as an act of self-expression, arriving breech strikes me as having value.

Christmas Wish Comes True

2010-01-27T14:18:00.000-08:00

After more than a decade of lyrical pleading, singer Mariah Carey received the gift she really wanted: local resident Daniel Staker.

Maria first publicly asked for possession of Staker in 1994 with her hit holiday single "All I Want for Christmas is You."

"When [producers] first came to me about making a Christmas album, I wasn't really sure," said the now 39 year old Carey. "It was one of those times where you have to take time out and ask yourself what you really want." For the five-time Grammy winner, the answer was surprising. "It was like the only thing I really didn't have in my life was a skinny, fourteen year old Mormon boy. Once I realized that, [the song] came together, and the rest of the album just kind of sprung up around it."

Despite Carey's considerable means and desire, negotiations were slowed because Staker was a minor. "The parties came to terms on a basic agreement," a former attorney for Carey said, "but legally there was an impasse. There simply aren't too many options for women approaching 30 who are looking to buy 14 year old boys in this country."

Negotiations resumed when Staker turned 18, only to be put on hold for a two-year Mormon proselyting mission. "When he said he was going I was disappointed,"admitted Carey. "We were so close to an agreement. But it was all part of a journey of learning for me. I found out if you're going to try and buy a skinny Mormon boy, waiting for him to serve a Mormon mission is a part of it."

While serving for his church, Staker did not have regular telephone or email access, and all contact was lost with Carey and her agents.

In 2001 Staker came back to Utah, and in 2002 he started the seven year process of becoming a lawyer. "It was a busy time," said Staker. "There were days when I thought about Mariah, but I was mostly focused on my classes, hanging out with friends, [and] stuff like that."

It seemed Carey's wish would never be fulfilled, and she had all but given up, when Staker recently heard her song on the radio. "I had just graduated in December [of 2009]," Staker commented, "when I heard her song come on the radio. It brought a lot of memories back, and finally everything just felt right. So I called Mariah up..."

"I couldn't believe it," Carey remarked. "It was a dream come true, like a kind of Christmas miracle."

After a few weeks of working out all the details, deed for possession was finally presented to Carey. Her long wait was over.

Terms of the sale were not disclosed.

Sincere Gratitude in Five

2009-11-25T13:43:00.001-08:00

Happy Turkey, everyone and all.

The name of the game today is to tell you what I'm grateful for, but not in the once-around-the-table-at-Grandma's-house fashion.

To let the world (all five of you) know that I'm sincere, I'm going to attempt to express true gratitude only for things that I've never heard anyone else be thankful for aloud. Also, I'm not coming up with this list on the spot. That wouldn't be very grateful; brainstorming doesn't really communicate great depths of feeling. So, the second rule is that these are all things that I have actually noted and expressed appreciation for (even if only internally) in the past.

To review:

1. Never heard anyone else be grateful for the following items.
2. Have felt thankful for these items before today.

First, I am truly grateful for the smell of Tide white lilac detergent coupled with Downy lavender dryer sheets. I came across this combination when I was trying to develop a comprehensive smell strategy (CSS) for myself. It works. I love it. I often smell my clothes or blankets and think of how amazing it is that I live in a world where I have such clean and fresh smelling articles. Pre-20th century royalty could not have had it so good.

Second, I am thankful for the smell of old books--like "find it through the card catalog" kind of old books. It's so distinct and makes me feel like there is an exciting world around me still waiting to be discovered, but without the slightest bit of anxiousness or urgency. The books will always be there waiting for me.

Third: modern dentistry. Enough said.

Forth, I absolutely am happy to live in a world with Polo cologne. I don't use it. I can't afford it. And it doesn't fit into the CSS. But this is exactly the prototypical scent and essence of Man--what John Wayne would have smelled like all the time.

Fifth and finally, I am thankful for trunk space. Something about seeing a big, boxy, and deep trunk makes me really happy. I get all excited with the potential of all the things I could pack, stow, and carry, all with the greatest of ease. It's like a bonus car that quietly waits to continually surprise me.

Hodge Podge

2009-11-20T10:13:00.001-08:00

These are things I would've mentioned to other human beings, if I was ever around other human beings. There is neither theme nor general cause for interest.

There is a billboard on I-15 northbound as you're coming into Salt Lake. It boasts, "Utah's Fastest Tattoo Removal!"

This claim has zero appeal to me. You know what? Go ahead and take your time. I can stay for fifteen extra minutes. Need me to make another appointment? That's fine. You are super heating and exploding ink in my flesh by use of high powered lasers. Take all the time you need.

I realized the other day that it will be nearly impossible for any woman to live up to the standard of love, devotion, loyalty, and appreciation my dogs have led me to expect.

The dogs are so willing to be fooled by me. They want to believe that I am the best person ever. They need to believe in an all powerful, benevolent master.

A picture of my mother cycled through my screen saver the other day. Something about it stirred my emotions. It's not the best picture of my mother. It's not the greatest likeness of her. It's not even the most emblematic picture of her. So what was it I found so moving? Then I realized, that particular picture reminds me of Abraham Lincoln.

Not in the chin-beard and stove-pipe hat kind of way, but in the lines carved and forged in the crucible of human experience kind of way. She looks patient, kind, good natured, spent in service, wise, and strong.

Also, I just found this:

Californian/Canadian Coping

2009-11-19T09:54:00.000-08:00

In-n-Out Burger has spread it's tentacles into my hometown. I'm not really super excited. I like In-n-Out just fine, but it was as much a vacation-novelty as anything. Plus, as nice as it is to have it around, now I'll have to deal with a bunch of sideburned Laker fans and blond girls with big earrings congregating too close to home.

The real upside of this event is that I discovered how much I enjoy saying the name of the burgery in a Canadian accent: En-n-Oot, eh?

It's a small victory, but it's getting me through the day.

(Also, I just invented the word "burgery," which helps.)

The Set Up

2009-11-11T11:22:00.000-08:00

I’ve never been set-up—ever—but not for a lack of effort on behalf of a cast of hundreds of well-meaning family, friends, and acquaintances. Years ago attempted matchmaking was an occurrence, and usually only when the conversation turned to dating and singleness. Now attempts at matchmaking are a regularity, often coming in sneak attacks and out of context.

INT. A NON-DESCRIPT HALLWAY.  COULD BE AT AN OFFICE, SCHOOL, OR CHURCH—DAY

DANIEL is simply standing, minding his own business. BETTY a woman 5-10 years older than and previously unknown to DANIEL, walks abruptly up to him.

BETTY

 Hi, I don’t know we’ve met.  I’m Betty.  Are you single?

DANIEL

Hi. Uh... Maybe?

I had a set-up offer two days ago. I had one the day before that. I will probably get one later this week.

There are two theories at play to explain this market phenomenon. First, as I grow older I become more refined, mature, educated, and dignified. People want friends or family to end up with a catch like me—a man with a good chin, five weeks away from being a Juris Doctor, not addicted to video games, and willing to change a toilet paper roll. The second theory is much simpler and Occam approved: pity positively correlates with growing age and continued single status.

I suppose it doesn’t have to be one or the other. In any particular instance I could be the latter and the sacrificial woman the former, vice versa, or any combination thereof. The point is, regardless of the reason for this sea change of intermeddling I’m in a new economy, for the first time I am considering breaking from my hard and fast no-set-up rule.

Although I don’t relish the idea of an awkward date, what I really dislike about the notion of getting set-up are the potential third-party ramifications. I’ve seen other gals and guys be set up by friends; I’ve seen those gals and guys dislike the date; and for various reasons, the matchmaking friend takes this rejection as a form of first-person insult.

To avoid, mitigate, or assuage these potential collateral conflicts, I’m working on a contract. The idea is anyone who wants to set me up will be dissuaded—perhaps winnowing out the less serious and thoughtful—or will be pre-advised of all the ways this could go wrong, and avoid potential future shock.

Without further ado, here is my first attempt to draft what started as a joke and is now a semi-unfortunate possibility.

PREAMBLE

I, __________________, have proposed to arrange a meeting between DANIEL STAKER (hereafter “DS”) and a female previously unknown (hereafter “FPU”) to DS, for the purpose of inter-personal acquaintanceship, which, if found agreeable to both parties, may develop into romantic involvement that may or may not result in monogamous dating or marriage.

In attempting to set-up DS, I am assuming a fiduciary role with DS, and, as such, in this capacity I am bound to act according to the best interests of DS. Accordingly, I will make every attempt to uphold the quality of my current relationship with DS, and will explicitly respect his judgment and wishes, whether or not his judgments are explained or merely implicit.

Accordingly, I agree to each and all of the following terms, jointly and severally.

TERMS

1. I know and expect DS will thoroughly scrutinize FPU.
2. I know and expect DS’s judgments regarding and evaluations of FPU will be critical, may either be made almost immediately or after thorough investigation.
3. I understand and diligently support DS’s right to dislike, be disinterested in, be annoyed by, or simply not appreciate FPU for any reason whatsoever.
4. I understand DS may find FPU is unattractive, ugly, homely, or just alright.
5. I understand DS may find FPU is unintelligent, stupid, uninteresting, or just alright.
6. I understand DS will scrutinize FPU’s goals, morals, and values.
7. I understand that DS is not concerned with general principles of fairness and tolerance in the arena of dating and intimate relationships; DS believes dating is about personal fit, not general acceptance, and discrimination will occur.
8. Though DS will not act with malice, I understand DS may do something to hurt FPU’s feelings, make FPU cry, or otherwise frustrate or anger FPU.
9. I assert that I have a substantial reason for thinking it would be favorable for DS to get to know and date FPU.
a. A “substantial reason” is herein defined as possessing knowledge or strong and reasonable suspicion that both DS and FPU mutually hold material facts, attributes, or other characteristics generally considered important to a intimate relationship.
i. Substantial reasons include, but are not limited to, intelligence, goals, lifestyles, unique shared interests, and similar senses of humor.
ii. Substantial reasons do not include, and are not limited to, mutual singleness, height, shared religious membership by record, legal education, or any physical similarities.
iii. If it is not clear whether a reason is substantial, insubstantiality is presumed, and DS reserves final judgment as to all questions of substantiality.
10. I understand DS is under no obligation to disclose any details of any meetings, conversations, interactions, or lack thereof, between DS and FPU with me, any of my agents, or anyone at all.
11. I understand DS has no obligation to defend, justify, or explain any meetings, conversations, interactions, or lack thereof, between DS and FPU with me, any of my agents, or anyone at all.
12. I understand and accept without any personal offense that DS may not trust my judgment, taste, assessments, or advice, and may flatly reject any and all of the aforementioned without explanation, and may do forthrightly and without normal obligations of tact.
13. I will undertake every possible effort to avoid offense where offense was not intended, and will not allow myself to take offense on behalf of FPU.
14. I realize DS may be bad at handling relationships, and will be sympathetic to his inept actions and inactions.
15. I will not assume malice on the part of DS where none is explicitly expressed.
16. I will not side with FPU on any issue in dispute, but will remember that relationships are complicated, stories are inevitably one-sided, and perspectives are limited.
17. By signing this agreement I agree that all of my agents will also be herein bound thereby.
18. I hereby waive my right to appeal this agreement or have this agreement reviewed by any court of law, state authority, mediator, arbitrator, or any authority other than DS.
19. I hereby waive all civil claims associated with this agreement, short of gross negligence, and realize that I am receiving nothing in consideration for the waiving of such rights but the privilege of arranging a meeting with DS and FPU.
20. I consent that this agreement may not be altered except by consent of both parties, consisting of DS and myself.

EXECUTION

Signed on this the ____ day of _________, in the year ______, by:

X _______________________

Witnessed and approved as to form by:

X _______________________
Daniel Staker

Dog Stars

2009-11-02T09:35:00.000-08:00

While (as mentioned) I don't really care for reality tv, I do really care about dogs, particularly my dogs, and I love a good competition.

That, along with a bumpy childhood, may help explain why I've been trying to come up with a format for a reality-show-esque competition for my dogs. Meet the contenders:

On the left we have Ms. Gretel, a mutt with moxie, the brown tiger. (Not to be confused with this guy...)

On the right is Mr. Myshkin, 21 pounds of Jack-attack. (Not to be confused with this guy...)

I am trying to think up some challenges and a way to turn them against each other for my amusement, but intrigue is a hard thing to teach a dog.

It may be a good thing I don't have children. However, if I did have kids, I wouldn't be tempted to make my own nativity pageant with canines. Lest you think I'm kidding, check out the shepherd prototype.

You cannot imagine how much this warms my heart, but, do not fear, I've told myself I won't let it go past shepherds and donkeys.

8 & 9

2009-11-02T09:29:00.000-08:00

I watched Caveman this very weekend.

It was a mistake and I'm forever done watching Caveman. "O come on Ringo, you were a Beatle!"

7 Inappropriate Confessions

2009-10-26T10:57:00.000-07:00

Prepare for disappointment. Not inappropriate in the sense of scintillating tales of moral indiscretion, rather inappropriate in that these are things I shouldn't feel any need to confess, and yet... I do. Almost daily.

1. I cannot finish a half gallon of milk before it expires. I've been trying for years, and while I have flirted in the high ninety-percents of completion, I have yet to seal the deal.

2. I never completed Super Mario Brothers, and I really, really tried. It was the only video game I owned for a year.

3. I hate and cannot stand reality tv--in fact I've never watched an entire reality tv show on my own--and yet, filled with some self-loathing, I have watched hours of it because of female companionship. (There is one exception to this, but that I will not confess.)

4. I don't know what band you are talking about. Furthermore, it took me a few minutes to figure out you were talking about a band.

5. I haven't seen the movie your talking about, and there is a 90% chance I really don't want to--it's violent, hyper sexual, inane and/or people say bad swears a lot.

6. But I would still watch Caveman, staring Shelly Long and Ringo Starr, and I am well aware that it falls into at least two of the above criteria.

7. I've seen the movie Caveman.

Musing on Modern Life

2009-10-22T10:31:00.000-07:00

This:

"I'm sorry. I'm no longer interested. You are simply not as good looking or nearly as skinny as your internet photographs led me to believe."

Should be a valid way to end a relationship. (Whether or not the internet is a valid place to begin a relationship is a whole other matter recognized hereby, but not addressed herein.)

Somehow we are currently in a social landscape where one can wantonly and willfully deceive, but it's not ok for the the deceived to acknowledge the deception. Thus, making a victim twice over.

At least with alcohol people traditionally brought deception upon themselves.

Ironically the information age has promoted only the artful presentation of information, often misinformation, and has eroded the kind of genuine discovery and fact-finding that comes from real-life human contact and interaction. This kind of freedom to misrepresent is at an all time high.

I'm sure this has more troubling ramifications than determinations of "hot or not," but I'm a simple man, and am merely endeavoring to point out the surface of the iceberg. (Which, considering where this post began, seems an apt analogy.)

Killer Serials--The Ghost of Al Capone is My Roommate

2009-09-22T08:23:00.000-07:00

Part V--Dissolution

***Do Not Read Before Parts I-IV***

I had not left my bedroom for weeks and weeks. It's not only that I was afraid of Al--the last time I saw him he did vow, "I'll fill you so full of lead they'll use you for a pencil, nyah!"--but I also couldn't remember the secret knock to get into the living room. Every time I tried all I heard back was a voice from the other side yelling something like, "Nice try, copper!"

I couldn't pay my bills. The power and heat went off, but at least my cell phone service was canceled, freeing me from my real-life Geraldo haunting. The speakeasy went on by candlelight. It only added to the allure and the dolls said it all seemed more dangerous and romantic.

Meanwhile I nearly starved to death, living only off of cough drops from my medicine cabinet, water from my sink, and remnants of gin that a ghost named Vinny comes in and makes in my bathtub.

Al had a good thing going. With me out of the way, he had the only 1920s-era-supernatural-speakeasy in the building, maybe on the whole block. His empire was growing day by day, but, in his haste to get back on top, Al forgot to pay his H.O.A. dues.

After an appropriate administrative process, Al and I were evicted by the Chicago P.D. I lost my job and my home, but, most importantly, I also lost Al.

As I walked away he yelled something about turning me into "minestrone soup" if I ever double crossed him or cut back into his territory. Typical Al. He would almost be tolerable, lovable, if he weren't so willing to take human life for profit.

My new home used to be a Hallmark Store. Me and all the precious moments figures gone by should get along just fine.

Killer Serials--Al Capone's Ghost is My Roommate

2009-08-10T10:10:00.000-07:00

Part IV--Geraldo's Comeback

***Do Not Read Before Parts I-III Below***

I sleep a lot now. Nearly every spare chance I get.

It's 9:07 AM on Saturday, June 27th, and the voicemail alert on my phone has been beeping at me for hours. I don't want to get up; I don't want to leave the bedroom; yet I can't fall back to sleep. In my head I'm arguing with him, back and forth, because I don't have the nerve to argue with him in person.

My hand falls onto the nightstand and I grope for the voicemail button on my phone.

The message lady: "You have 23 new messages..."

Friday, June 26th, 8:37 PM. Beep.

"Hello, Mr. Edwards. My name is Terry Steinagle, assistant to Geraldo Rivera. Mr. Rivera heard about your... issue... and he would be very interested in meeting with you. If you could please..."

Message deleted. Next message: Friday, June 26th, 8:55 PM. Beep.

"Hello, Mr. Edwards. It's Terry Steinagle again. Just checking to see if you got my earlier..."

Message deleted. Next message: Friday, June 26th, 9:22 PM. Beep.

"Terry again. Is there a better number to reach you at? I've been trying to get a hold of you for a couple days now and...

Message deleted. Next message: Friday, June 26th, 9:38. PM. Beep.

"Mr. Edwards we are very eager to obtain the exclusive rights to your..."

Message deleted. Next message: Friday, June 26th, 10:01. PM. Beep.

"If you think you can just ignore the personal assistant to Mr. Rivera and..."

Message deleted. Next message: Friday, June 26th, 10:34 PM. Beep.

"Well, Mr. Edwards, I'm sorry we couldn't get in touch with you today. If you get this, I'll be awake until..."

Message deleted. Next message: Saturday, June 27th, 5:52 AM. Beep.

"Good Morning, Mr. Edwards. I know that things so far haven't gone as well as..."

Message deleted. Next message: Saturday, June 27th, 6:47 AM. Beep.

"Mr. Edwards, it's Terry again. Just getting Mr. Rivera's coffee ready and would love to wake him up to some good new..."

Message deleted. Next message: Saturday, June 27th, 6:51 AM. Beep.

"Hey, I just ran down to grab the paper and thought you might have tried to call while I was..."

Message deleted. Next message: Saturday, June 27th, 7:39 AM. Beep.

"This is rude. Plain and simple rude. Now Mr. Rivera is starting to get upset. And I'm warning you..."

Message deleted. Next message: Saturday, June 27th, 8:04 AM. Beep.

"Anthony, it's me, Geraldo. I know you're there...

Message deleted. Next message: Saturday, June 27th, 8:07 AM. Beep.

"Sorry, your machine cut me off. So, I was saying, on prime-time, probably a three part series..."

Message deleted. Next message: Saturday, June 27th, 8:10 AM. Beep.

"Like I said, on Fox news with the option to be picked up by the mother network..."

Message deleted. Next message: Saturday, June 27th, 8:13 AM. Beep.

"...because you and I are businessmen, you know? I think we understand one another..."

Message deleted. Next message: Saturday, June 27th, 8:16 AM. Beep.

"And you have no idea how bad I need this, kid. A comeback. To get me back on top, back where..."

Message deleted. Next message: Saturday, June 27th, 8:19 AM. Beep.

"And don't think for a second that I'll let some little jerk like you stand in the way of my comeback. I leave particles of guys like you in my..."

Message deleted. Next message: Saturday, June 27th, 8:22 AM. Beep.

"And you know how it goes when you want something with all your heart. You can get a little crazy and you might say some things that you regret later..."

Message deleted. Next message: Saturday, June 27th, 8:25 AM. Beep.

"Oh, come on. Please, kid? Please? You have no idea how bad I..."

Message deleted. Next message: Saturday, June 27th, 8:28 AM. Beep.

"Ok, it doesn't have to be a three-part series if you don't want. We could do one live special on..."

Message deleted. Next message: Saturday, June 27th, 8:31 AM. Beep.

"What if I just open up the fridge? And I could say something like, 'Ah ha!' and we could flip the lights on and off for..."

Message deleted. Next message: Saturday, June 27th, 8:34 AM. Beep.

"One tape recorder left in your breakfast cereal cupboard overnight..."

Message deleted. Next message: Saturday, June 27th, 8:37 AM. Beep.

"Listen you snot-nosed, SOB, when you mess with the mustache you mess..."

Message deleted. Next message: Saturday, June 27th, 8:49 AM. Beep.

"You know, there are other ways you could be compensated..."

I think I'm going to be sick.

I have to wonder why on earth did I go to a psychiatrist who was related to Geraldo Rivera? How is anyone related to Geraldo even allowed to practice medicine in a civilized country?

Killers Serial--The Ghost of Al Capone Is My Roommate

2009-07-28T18:24:00.000-07:00

Part III: See!

***DO NOT READ BEFORE PARTS I & II BELOW***

Federal taxes move through the economy like a dead chicken through a snake. In early winter H&R Block hires a small army of temporary help from coast to coast. Throughout March and April accountants work sixty, seventy, eighty-hour weeks. The post office sees a spike in business, and stays open late on April 15, one day out of 365. And a new paralegal at the Internal Revenue Service begins to have his summer ruined, as the workload is shifted from the accountants and the general public to my desk.

I’ve been facing unusual stress for a few months: a mountain of student loan debt, a new mortgage, settling for a job after a disheartening and unflattering search, moving to a new city, the growing list of items my condo builder needs to come fix, the growing anxiety of someone who deep-down knows he will never get around to presenting the builder with the growing list of repairs… All of this explains why the first time I heard Al speak, I thought it was merely evidence of the stressful status quo, and not in-and-of-itself a brand new stress.

On Friday, June 12, I had a bit of break down. Lonely and unhappy, I did the only thing that made sense; I walked all the way home from work, picking up a large pizza and box of Hostess doughnuts along the way, and stayed up through the night watching progressively mindless television. Right through the door I shed my shirt, tie, pants, and dignity. Everything—clothes, food, and a broken man in a white undershirt, pale blue boxers, and black dress socks—fell to the floor.

We stayed there throughout the night, rearranging our positions, like decimated platoons of soldiers heroically and fatally determined to see the battle through to the end. As a Julie Roberts romantic comedy (I don’t know which one) ended on TBS, the pizza box laid reassuringly on my chest, moving up with my breath. For the 1:00 AM SportsCenter, the pizza box stayed faithfully to my right flank, just within arms reach, and the doughnuts moved to my chest, the corner of the box torn off and the contents lighter than moments ago. Slice by slice, “O” by “O”, our numbers dwindled as we made it through the infomercial hours together. At 4:00, the boxes nearly empty, the casualties of crumbs, crusts, and soda cans spread across my cheep wood floor and Ikea rug, things started looking up as classic cartoons worked their way into the cable lineup.

It was nearly 5:00 and light was returning to the city. With equal parts solace and sadness—glad because some kind of storm had been weathered, but depressed because a whole night and normal sleep schedule had been foolishly sacrificed—I gathered my strength for one last meal before giving into exhaustion and sleep.

With Looney Tunes filling the front room, I staggered over to the kitchen side of the open condo space. Without thought, moving on autopilot, I collected cereal box, bowl, and spoon, and set them on the counter. I opened the fridge a mere crack, when a voice in front of me rang strong, nasal, and gravelly.

“See!”

In one sudden movement that I cannot image and could not replicate, I slammed the door shut and jumped back into the island, tumbled over the counter top, and landed firmly on both feet in a kind of tennis-player-awaiting-serve stance.

My heart pounded, my pupils dilated, and time slowed down. After my initial burst of reaction, I didn’t move a muscle. I’m not even sure if I was breathing. I only stood, listening, crouching, and waiting for another sound.

The TV was still on.

I felt like an idiot when I finally turned around to see Bugs Bunny wearing a fedora, pacing around a confused Elmer Fudd, speaking like a prohibition era gangster. Tingling from head to toe with relief, I turned the TV off and made my second attempt to open the fridge.

“I have got to go to bed,” I said aloud to myself.

A streak of light broke along the edges of the large stainless steel appliance before me, and a my statement was met with a non sequitur reply: “Nyah! What’s the big idea?!”

I don’t know why it started in the fridge. Must be some kind of Ghost Busters rule.

I didn’t stop to think about it at the time. Seconds later I had abandoned my breakfast plans, closed and locked the bedroom door, and hit the bed determined to sleep for as long as I possibly could.

Dogma and Dog Days of Summer

2009-06-30T13:10:00.000-07:00

I hate to interrupt the Killer's Serial (not because anyone is reading it or waiting on the next installment, but just because I hate disorder), nevertheless I came across something today that I felt worth promoting.

Let me begin by saying that I hate, hate, hate political dogma. My personal innermost circle of hell is filled neck deep with letters to the editor, Hannitys, Colmes', Rushs, and people who think NPR is infallible.

I learned at BYU that I could tolerate any political opinion, so long as anyone could demonstrate to me that he or she had actually considered the issues involved with the opinion rather than the mantras, statements, and catchphrases.

The last thing the world, or any democracy, needs is one more drone screaming "No blood for oil!" or "Illegal immigration is illegal!"

If we are polarized as a nation, and we are getting there, then what right, what outrageous audacity, does anyone claim that would entitle them to paint the other half of the population as idiots? What makes you so much smarter? Especially if you cannot even see the merits of opinions held by the other half?

Any issue worthy of public debate has very valid reasons for support and disapproval.

That said, I'm sick of hearing claims and barbs about climate change from people who could not tell a p-value from a pea pod, and from folks who have never once cracked a peer reviewed publication. Furthermore, even if we were to learn some generations later that climate change is a grand fraud perpetuated by mass hysteria in the international scientific community; even if any measure we can take to reduce pollution pales in comparison to the negative impacts of third world industrialization; even if a drive toward pollution reduction is paternalistic and keeps the proletariat nations bound to cheap production for the bourgeoisie; why not make an effort to do what's right and reduce pollution on our end in general? Not because we have to in order to avoid a dooms day. Not because we can certainly make a great impact. But because we can do something.

Just because the commons lies covered in tragedy, is that any justification for us not to pull back and corral whatever cows we are able?

Is there anyone willing to argue that pollution is beneficial? Should potential ecomonic impacts drive all our decisions? Surely you've given up money hundreds of times this year in consideration of a higher quality of life. So why dig in your heals and fight conservation just because the guy on AM radio says Obama is a fascist?

For shame. Conservation should be a general principle of a prudent life, whether in terms of environment, energy, finances, materials, or any resource. And what ever happened to our national sense of stewardship?

How is drawing more heavily against nature's balance (which we are doing to some degree unless you actually believe pollution is beneficial environmentally) for economic consideration any less blameworthy than leaving behind a legacy of debt for your children to promote some current ease? (And don't try to argue entitlement spending here--it needs to be addressed too; I don't dispute that--it has nothing to do with the wholesale mortgage of environmental quality the world has been bent on since the industrial revolution.)

So, though I hate, hate, hate politically inflammatory rhetoric, I actually found this article really satisfying. (Though use of the "T" word was obnoxious.)

New York Times: "Betraying the Planet"

Killer Serials--The Ghost of Al Capone is My Roommate

2009-06-27T14:26:00.000-07:00

Part II--The Lexington Hotel

***Do Not Read Before Part I***

I'm not a historian; I'm not even from Chicago. I'm just a condo owner.

Last April I became a fighting Mondale alumnus when I graduated from the University of Minnesota Law school. Spring 2009 was a rough time to hit the job market, especially for a Mondale, like me, who was in the bottom half of his class. The job hunt was humiliating and slow, and after a month all my best supporters--mom, dad, aunt Karen--began to lose any trace of hope when they would talk to me about the hunt. It wasn't until late May that I found a job, not as a lawyer, and not at a high power law firm, but as a paralegal for the IRS in Chicago.

When people would ask I would say I was taking a job with the federal government and tell them nothing more. I didn't have the heart to tell anyone (who I thought wouldn't find out) that I was going to be looking up cases and photocopying reports for real attorneys. But, disappointing as it was, federal jobs mean federal pay scales, and the money, though it wouldn't compare to private work, was not too bad. Not bad at all for a guy who had $120,000 in loan debt and had gone two months without any job offers. Although heartbreaking, the decision was easy. I was off to the Second City to enter the exciting world of tax law research.

On the day I arrived in town I extended my debt even more by signing closing papers for a Lexington Park condominium, unit 1947. It was my very own one bedroom with den in the heart of Chicago's southside, "starting in the low 200s."

Lexington Park was named after the Lexington Hotel, which sat on the same plot of ground until 1995. It's probably alright to name a residential building after the old hotel, but you wouldn't want to name your kid after it. The Lexington Hotel had a shady history, at best.

Built in 1892 for the opening of the World's Columbian Exposition, perhaps better known as the Chicago World's Fair, the hotel was supposed to provide luxury residences and accommodations to fair guests. With the closing of the fair, demand substantially fell. Once it was discovered that the hotel was just down Indiana Ave. from H.H. Holmes's infamous "murder castle," demand died, and the hotel fell into disrepair. This is probably why a young, up-and-coming entrepreneur decided to pick up the property on the cheap and establish his headquarters there.

In 1928 Al Capone bought the Lexington Hotel, placed armed guards all along the bottom floor and all around the block, and ran his criminal empire from 22nd Street (later renamed) and Michigan Ave. The hotel would serve as his headquarters until Capone was arrested in 1938, and shipped off to Alcatraz where his body and mind would slowly be ravaged by syphilis. The hotel would outlast Capone, but didn't fair much better.

The associations between the Lexington Hotel, crime, Capone, and Chicago's seedy underside were two strong. With no other entrepreneurs chomping at the bit, the hotel slide into a brothel, and then a low-rent residential hotel, which is a nice way of saying crack/flop house. The Lexington Hotel was declared blight and the city condemned it in 1980. For fifteen years it sat vacant, it's only wholesome use being as a back drop in the photographs of old tourists, mostly men who remembered seeing Capone's exploits on the news reels as small boys.

In 1995 the Lexington was finally demolished, razed clean to the ground. The building was a historical site, and a lot of old Chicagoans were angry at the time, but the city had had enough of the rats and drug dealers that infested the area. A decade would pass before the recollections of the prostitutes, crimes, and mob bosses were sufficiently vanished. Buildings can be torn down faster than memories. In a turn of good fortune, the southside started to become revitalized, just in time for the White Sox to bring home the 2005 World Series trophy and set it on the Chicago mantel. Pleased with the change they saw, the Chieftain Construction company decided the Lexington lot had sat fallow long enough. In 2007 ground was broken for thirty-one stories of trendy urban condos--a whole tower of glass, faux granite, and stainless steel appliances.

When I moved here I didn't know anything about H.H. Holmes, mobsters, or the Lexington Hotel brothel. Even if I had known, I wouldn't have changed my decision. I'm not superstitious. A few months ago I would have been happy to learn they built the place on an Indian graveyard; it would've given me a decent little bargaining chip when I was negotiating the price in the low 200s.

Killer Serials--The Ghost of Al Capone is My Roommate

2009-06-25T17:10:00.000-07:00

Part I--The Windy City

In 1492 Columbus came to the Americas. This is a well known among English-speakers, because that year happens to rhyme with the color of the ocean. Far fewer people know what happened 401 years later--The World's Columbian Exposition. "Exposition" doesn't rhyme so neatly as "blue."

In 1889 France built a tower out of scrap metal and invited the world to come have a look. Food was served and they called it the "Exposition Universelle." I don't know how many people were invited, or who répondez s'il vous plaî-ed, but 28,000,000 people showed up. The whole thing was an incredible success; the U.S. became jealous.

To understand the national reaction, you have to remember the United States was dating England exclusively. They broke up, and the U.S. scored France on the rebound. The two started hanging out, talked together about how fat and ugly England was, and had a whirlwind romance. The United States was going through a revolution. It was fun and exciting. We got some sugar from France, in terms of money and naval support. The mutual love was commemorated with his-and-her statues of women holding torches. Soon France got into it's own revolution and war, and came looking for similar support. Under the direction of President Washington, the U.S. stopped answering France's calls. France drove by the house a couple of times, but the U.S. pretended we weren't home. It was mean, but we were still young, immature, and didn't know how to deal with strong emotions and socially delicate situations.

When the Exposition Universelle made France the belle of the international ball, our Congress couldn't stand it. It's hard to have a lot of people paying attention to your ex. The U.S. had to have another ball. Now. Congressional committees, working as fast as Congressional Committees can, narrowed down the possible venues to three American cities: Washington D.C., New York, and Chicago. New York was the gem of the country. D.C. was the nation's capital. Chicago, by contrast, was a stinking expanse of rail yards, slaughter houses, cattle yards, mud streets, and run down tenaments.

Illinois was the American frontier--everything West being rocks, dirt, pine trees, Native Americans, gold miners, and Mormons.

Whatever Chicagoans lacked in sophistication, they made up for with heart. If you've ever lived and fallen in love with a city that's considered provincial, you'll understand how readily defensive the tip of the tongue becomes. The people of Chicago were so adamant in blustering boasts of their city's merits, that New Yorker's, in derision, started calling Chicago "The Windy City."

New York could make fun and tease all they wanted. Congress gave Chicago the Columbian Exposition. To stick it to France, Chicago was going to throw the world a party on the 400th anniversary of an Italian, sailing for Spain, trying to reach India, accidentally landing in America. What could be more natural?

I'm not trying to show off. I never would've learned any of this if I hadn't met Al.

Bad Call

2009-06-23T17:30:00.000-07:00

Welcome to my average summer day.

6:30 Awake.

7:00 Law of Moses.

8:15 Drive to law school--predominantly listen to sports talk radio.

9:00 Lending Law.

11:00 Work out--mostly watch ESPN and CNN.

12:30 Drive home--predominantly listen to sports talk radio.

1:30 Read law books; research legal issues.

4:00 Drive back to law school--predominantly listen to sports talk radio.

6:00 Administrative Law.

8:00 Drive home--predominantly listen to sports talk radio.

Law. Sports. Law. Sports. Forgive me if my thoughts lack diversity, but here is a nexus (non-lexis type).

Enter Lee Cider.

This man stole Lance Armstrong's bike. Clever? No. Criminal? Certainly. Kind of funny? Maybe.

For his crime of bike rustling, Mr. Cider will spend three years in prison thinking about the folly of stealing the bike of the most famous cyclist in the history of the world. (Did he think he would Craigslist it? Pawn it?)

Now let's move to the top side of the sports world.

Meet Dante Stallworth.

One evening he spent the whole night getting liquored up, got behind the wheel of his Bentley, and killed an innocent pedestrian at 7:00 AM. For this not-at-all-funny and just-as-certain crime, Mr. Stallworth will spend a grand total of 24 days in jail and perform 1,000 hours of community service.

I know this isn't particularly entertaining, but given the mental neighborhood I live in, I can't help but to find this seriously disturbing and grotesque.

Vain Ambitions

2009-06-18T18:01:00.000-07:00

My dog is obsessive. I don't know if it was nature or nurture, but I feel part way responsible. Regardless...

I'm always trying to convince him that he would be happier if he could mentally let go: stop thinking about the bird outside, the reflection my watch is making on the ceiling, or the squeaky I set on top of the fridge.

He refuses to be comforted. He can stare and wait and whine and dance and always, always keep up the stare. He cannot be diverted, appeased, or reasoned with. He is locked in a marriage between himself and fantasy, which thunder, lightening, earthquake, and gale cannot divorce.

Would Churchill train a dog to never, never, never give up? Is not discretion the better part of valor? Should not a covenant impetuously made when broken reveal a virtue?

I don't know. But I do know that I woke up in the middle of the night to grab my laptop, jot down this poem, and cannonball right back into sleep. I call it "O Coyote."

O' Coyote...
Your lust for roadrunners
is your undoing.

Weighing My Options...

2009-06-16T17:07:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I started thinking about becoming an anarchist.

Pros: Something to talk about at dinner parties and a possible change of apparel.

Cons: It doesn't seem very convenient, and there would be very few people my own age at the Christmas party.

Rules of Engagement

2009-02-25T12:59:00.000-08:00

I have over a decade of experience in dating. Ladies, here are some things I've learned that might help you out. (These are general rules, and I truly hope not to offend--just because the rule is often true, doesn't mean it's true in your case.)

R.1: Is his belt braided and leather? Move on; you can do better.

R.2: If his tips are spiky, frosted, and blond, then throw him back; there's a better fish in the pond.

R.3: If he's wearing any part of the sea, then he's probably not for me.

R.4: If there's a ring on his thumb, he's probably dumb.

Also, don't date a guy who wears his cellphone on his belt, or wears a bluetooth headset throughout the day. I don't have rhymes for those, but, common, it just makes sense.

Best of Week

2009-02-24T11:24:00.001-08:00

Best Conversation:

Me: Oh look! A squirrel... You're a cute little squirrel, aren't you?

S: [Looks and blinks.]

Me: Yes, you are.

S: [Runs away.]

Best Quote:

Rudeness is the weak man’s imitation of strength.
-Eric Hoffer

Best Worse Joke I Made Up:

Q. What is a ghost's favorite restaurant?

A. Cafe BooRio.

(A spin-off of joke: Q. What's a Ghost's favorite food? A. Booritos.)

Best Laffy-Taffy Joke:

Q. What do you call a chicken crossing the street?

A. Poultry in motion.

Best Moment Amongst Adults:

Hugging Brian.

Best Moment Amongst Adolescents:

Teaching the teacher's quorum about the Good Samaritan, service to the poor, and fast offerings.

Best Moment Amongst New Borns:

Teaching new nephew, aka Douglass Fredrick Socks, how to escape from the hospital, make it to the freeway, and get to the airport.

Gaming Law

2009-02-11T13:02:00.000-08:00

I tend to think in laws lately. It makes for horrible conversation. And I'm likely to pretend like you're saying something your not because you weren't careful enough with your language even though I know full well what you are really talking about and likely agree.

Sorry.

Here is something that is not a conversation that I have ruined:

§ 1-101-Holding
1-101-1: This section, 1-101 et seq., shall be titled "Holding."
1-101-2: It is hereby required that any and all participating parties shall know when to "hold 'em."
(a) Knowledge of when to "hold 'em" share be present in participant before act of holding 'em, and is made manifest by
(1) A correct understanding of the cards, including suit and value, of each of the cards participant holds.
(2) A reasonable assessment of the value of the cards mentioned in §1-101-2(a)(1), whether individually, in aggregate, or in any combination thereof, and an understanding of whether or not those cards are likely to be of superior quality than any other opponents in relation to the size of the amount in controversy.

I could go on...

Heroes and Good Guys

2009-02-06T08:46:00.000-08:00

This morning I was thinking about this man:

Captain Chesley Sullenberger III. What a man! What a name! Braving near death, remaining cool under pressure, and saving hundreds of lives in the process. Could this story be any more perfect?

Perhaps.

On the news this morning they were calling him a hero. I was fully on board. But then, after a moments thought, I wished we had another word for this man--some kind of word that meant "a really good guy," or "an individual of far above average constitution."

I'm just not comfortable with a "hero" being thwarted by a small gaggle of geese. I don't want Batman succumbing to a one eyed duck, or Superman getting into scrapes with pelican with a nasty scar on his face. Let's not allow our heroes to run afoul of common foul.

When Sully lands a plan that's been stunned by a death ray, and I think he would, then let's talk "hero."

Best of Week

2009-02-05T12:58:00.000-08:00

Best quote I've read in a week:

Education is the ability to listen to almost anything without losing your temper or your self-confidence -Robert Frost, United Press International

Best thought I've had in a week:

Once you think you're better than anyone else, acting foolishly and with great impropriety will almost inevitably follow.

Best moment I had in a week:

Watching three of my teachers getting up during fast and testimony meeting.

Best joke I made up in the past week:

Q. What is a dog's least favorite kind of disaster?

A. A CATastrophie.

Best mariner rhyme I made up during the past week:

Red sky at dawn, the buffet line will be long; yellow sky at morn, don't touch Captain's fog horn.

Rice, Rice, Baby

2009-02-02T17:06:00.000-08:00

Read Interview with a Vampire over the weekend. It was great. Totally gripping.

This is my favorite excerpt:

"So where do you see yourself in five years," Mr. Flemming asked as he slightly leaned forward over the table. Steven thought about his answer. "Is he on to me?" he wondered. After a moment's pause Steven also leaned forward slightly, gave Mr. Flemming a confident and cold stare, and responded, "I don't know. Drinking blood?"

Corporate Conspiracies and Cookies

2009-01-30T09:53:00.000-08:00

A friend solicited me with Girl Scout Cookies today. "Hey, just so you know, my friend's friend's daughter is selling Girl Scout Cookies. If you want any, I'd be happy to pass along your order."

How quaint, right?

But then it hits me: I've never met a girl scout. And whenever I get guilted into buying those cookies it's always because some co-worker's brother's niece is selling them. How convenient that these "girl scouts" are never directly known, seen, met, touched, or present!

This has got to be the greatest marketing gimmick ever. Phillip Morris has thought of a brilliant way to hock excess cookies every year.

This is big... It may go all the way to the White House...

An Informal Job Interview with Myself

2009-01-29T18:29:00.001-08:00

Three things I need to improve upon:

1. Calming down, relaxing, and enjoying the moment.

2. Thinking too much.

3. Judging others and sharing said judgments with other others.

Three things I'm good at:

1. Judging others.

2. Thinking.

3. Looking outside of the moment.

Where I see myself in five years:

A nicer, kinder, thirty-three years old, much more capable of handling and even enjoying normal adult activities and responsibilities. Smoking hot wife. Potty-trained children. Lovely home with lots of paned windows and a garden.

Home Coming

2009-01-28T12:44:00.000-08:00

Dear Mother,

A bike? What was I thinking? Please load up the land cruiser and come pick me up. I'm coming back home to the suburbs.

I like driving to the mall and miss the affordability of big-box retailers. There are all sorts of sounds and smells I'm not familiar with here. Many people don't even speak English and don't seem to bath regularly.

Big screen TV, ping pong table, and an unlimited supply of pizza bagels--I'll never leave your basement again.

Yours,

Daniel

Last Note

2009-01-26T17:15:00.000-08:00

Dear Mother,

I am leaving home and becoming an urbanite. I've tried and tried to fit into your world of loose fitting pants and unscarved necks, but I just don't belong. I am who I am and I'm entering a very real time for me.

Don't bother looking for the ten-speed in the garage. All I left behind are the nine gears I no longer need. It's not about convenience. You just wouldn't understand.

I can no longer resist the call of vehemently politically supporting social programs that I could never hope to financially support. What little money I do make from free-lance design must go to satisfy my tremendous lust for specialty coffee beverages, new apple products, tight fitting t-shirt designed to look "old," and going to "shows."

Goodbye, Mother. By the time you read this, I'll probably be in yoga class.

Yours,

Daniel

A Few of My Favorite Things

2008-12-10T16:21:00.001-08:00

I think list entries are to blogs what mime is to art. Every once in a great while they can really be satisfying, but mostly they are things to largely be ignored and avoided.

That said, it's finals time and my brain is full of rules and cases. I don't think I've had a decent thought independent of the federal rules of evidence or criminal procedure for a week or more.

Without further ado...

A few of my favorite things for December 10, 2008, non-exclusive:

Tiny older women driving really big trucks.

Pretending like I can't see people who are wearing camouflage.

Puppies rolling over and falling out of bed.

1 Nephi 21:23.

Deuteronomy 31:6.

Guys who can pull-off baseball hats (baseball specific, as opposed to baseball style hats).

Snow (the form of precipitation, not the rapper who gave us "Informer").

The way Mormons habitually pray and give thanks for moisture in smaller towns.

Cowboy-cut suits.

Formal boots.

Joe Erikson's mustache circa 1995.

Life, etc.

Absurd

2008-12-09T13:20:00.000-08:00

I once cried during the song "Footloose."

True story.

Colloquialism

2008-12-06T08:37:00.000-08:00

I'm pretty sure I just heard someone on the radio say, "Let me put this to you in Layton's terms..."

While it's not what the person meant to say--I'm sorry, but "layman's terms" was answer the judges were looking for--it's actually not a bad expression.

ACK!!

2008-12-05T13:50:00.000-08:00

This morning while I was getting ready I made up a Cathy cartoon. I think it's pretty good (for a Cathy cartoon).

Panel One: Cathy is rummaging through her closet. Maybe some sweat or tears are flying horizontally off her head.

Panel Two: Cathy turns around. She continues to look distraught. "So many woman are looking for soul-mates..."

Panel Three: She holds up socks in her hands. One is black, one is white, one has polka dots. "But today I would settle for a sock-mate! Ack!"

Also, I think she's late for work.

The Value of Adversity and Rockets

2008-12-04T07:49:00.000-08:00

I'm really, really busy right now. I'm woefully behind on everything and I will, in fact, not be able to catch up. In my academic, financial, and social life, it's not a matter of restoring and healing: it's a matter of slowing the bleeding or making the cancer of my ineptitude and incapability spread at a more manageable rate.

I know what it sounds like, but I'm not complaining. I'm somewhat of a narcissist, I'm fascinated by me, and I tend to learn the most about myself in adverse conditions.

Let's be clear; I'm no Fred Nietzche. I don't believe that whatever doesn't kill me makes me stronger. I don't have an endless amount of resources, resiliency, or a crazy mustache. There are a number of things that are kind of like A.I.D.s, but for character--they do not kill you, but make you weak to the point that common ailments can finish the job. There are a lot of silly ways people can blow strength, or at least waste a lot of time.

Super Mario Brothers in the late 80s neither killed me nor made me stronger. I don't know if Nietzche would've changed his mind if he had a nintendo entertainment system.

But I digress...

Today I have/had 17 pages of paper to write, endless hours I should spend outlining, and class or two that I should've attended. But I didn't.

Today I learned something about me: I think it is more important to drive two hours into the desert to watch a space shuttle rocket be tested, than it is to study law. The motor was loud, warm, and threw up a cloud of dust thousands and thousands of feet high. I laughed like a child until I started to cry. It burned for 122 seconds.

Today I have a better sense of who I really am.

Legally and Lawfully Married

2008-12-03T13:59:00.000-08:00

There is a couple at my law school. They are so cute, petite, polite, and married.

They have desks next to each other in the library.

They just walked by me, and my heart broke a little. I hope they wouldn't think I'm patronizing them because I think of them like kittens--too cute for a harsh, cynical, and sometimes cruel world.

I wish they would walk by again. I wish I was like them.

Thoughts from my Morning

2008-12-02T13:31:00.000-08:00

Once anything of value is learned, felt, realized, or experienced, it should instill some kind of change in behavior. Failing to act is the first step to forgetting. Forgetting inevitably leads to regression, and is a waste of our time and experiences.

Voter Psychology

2008-12-01T12:52:00.000-08:00

I spent four years studying political science. The end result was less interest in politics--the more I learned the sillier it became.

For a long time people thought voting behavior could be explained in rational terms. Person X votes for candidate Y because it yields desirable result Z. So, as the theory goes, the rich will vote for the capitalistic republican, the poor will vote for the giving democrat, etc.

Seems to make sense, but I don't think it's true. It assumes that we believe candidates, think candidates will have power to change the status quo, that information about our interest can be distributed, and that we can assess what interests are more valuable to us. And if we're so rational, why would we vote at all since the odds are astronomical that our vote will actually be the difference?

And, if we're all so rational, then why does anyone wast time and resources voting for an American Idol candidate?

I think we vote because it offers us an opportunity to define and validate ourselves. To me, that is the beauty and danger of the process.

If we as a society are looking to define ourselves in meaningful terms, then we should be alright. But, as I worry is the trend, if we define ourselves by things that are largely superficial, self-aggrandizing, and polarizing, then the future looks bleak.

Vote as you will, but think about what you're really looking for the next time you put on a political t-shirt, or cleverly update your status message on facebook, or attach a provacative bumper sticker on your car. Do you really think you're making a difference in a meaningful way, or are you just trying to get some attention and an external sense of identity? Are you looking for high-fives from your NRA or Darwin-Fish buddies, or do you think you're making a meaningful statement?

It might be a tough call.

The Dynamics of Power

2008-11-28T23:32:00.000-08:00

Pride from the top down is distasteful, but pride from the bottom up is what really scares me.

Seems like the well-to-do are prone to look down with mere contemptuousness based on self-conceit. The people at the bottom may look up with hatred based in pain and suffering.

The status quo doesn't seem too comfortable with a minority scorn.

America, Capitalism, Socialism, and the Class Action Law Suit

2008-11-26T15:32:00.000-08:00

America is great. I love it here. But sometimes we sue each other a lot.

I've been reading today about class action law suits. It never occurred to me before that this is means for redistribution of wealth. American companies do whatever it is they do. Despite what AM talk radio is telling you, these companies aren't so regulated--especially for being companies doing business in a land of plumbing, potable water, gas, and electricity.

Where our European forebears regulate and control, we wait until the wheels fall off, and then we sue. Sometimes this kills a company, but usually they just pass the cost of suits onto the other consumers.

I'm not saying this is good or bad policy. Somethings are over regulated while somethings are under-regulated. And I know of no perfect system or solution.

But I do think my countries litigious nature is a reflection of our laissez fair attitude--laissez fair until someone loses an eye; then we sue.

A New Blog for a New Era.

2008-11-26T15:31:00.000-08:00

Like my other blogs, but slightly more sincere.