Aw yeah

Travesty has been averted--I found the disk of all my documents from my old job. At present, I only care about one of the documents--my most recent resume--but it's nice to have the rest of it, too. As December 1 approaches faster than a runaway bus full of gospel choir members screaming "praise JesuSAH!," I desperately need to get a resume ready for the large mailout to come. As if we didn't need one more goddamn thing to do right now, it's time to start applying for summer jobs. Ugh.

Anyway, I've been in a bit of a bitchpanic for the past few weeks over my inability to find the damned CD on which I burned everything personal from my office computer this summer. I kept thinking I knew right where it was, and it kept failing to appear in any of those places. Finally, I decided to start a good, thorough ransack of the apartment and found it (albeit in a totally odd place). Whatev, its contents have been successfully loaded onto my computer and I have the not-so-sucky task of editing the previous resume instead of starting from scratch. Phew.

I got lost driving in A2 today--first time in months. But man, this was insane. I ended up somewhere past North Campus, in a hell of split-level homes that sit on streets without names. I am not even kidding. Try navigating your way out of that one. I really need to put a compass in my car, because sometimes it's impossible around here to have any idea what direction you even think you're heading, what with the screwy twisting streets and all. Today, I didn't so much have a compass. I did, however, have a very old Eric Clapton best-of tape, and we cocained our way on outta there eventually.

A2 is a rather strange place over Thanksgiving break. Streets are quiet, stores are mostly empty (well, downtown--Target this afternoon was another question entirely, but that was mostly regular adults from the surrounding areas, and I never count them). Almost everyone, it seems, goes...elsewhere for the break. I've never been a big fan of travelling significant distance for Thanksgiving, especially not while in school, so it wasn't a big deal to stay here. I've gotten a reasonable amount of work done, and had a pretty great dinner Thursday at a fellow student's house. Aside from missing J more than I expected, and a brief meltdown about the impending onslaught from our exams, it was a good break. Ah well, I had a very good talk with Captain Chaos about the latter, and the former, well, absence makes the heart and all of that.

Damn you, Dan Brown

So I made the horrible mistake of starting The Da Vinci Code Wednesday night before bed. Ack. I've had a copy since August (through some book club folly, my mom ended up with two; gave me one), but only just got around to picking it up. This was a bad idea for two reasons: 1) I scare pretty easily, so Wednesday night and Thursday night were somewhat sleepless (though, to be fair, the book was part of a trifecta of sleep disturbances that also include a very needy cat wanting to be up in my face all night long and J's absence), and 2) Dan Brown's silly command of suspense led me to decide I couldn't start doing any work today until I finished the stupid thing. Fine, fine, it's a great yarn and I enjoyed it immensely. I can certainly understand the Catholic backlash, as this isn't the most Vatican-friendly telling out there. Still, it's...a novel. I read the most ridiculous rant on beliefnet this afternoon which picks apart several of the book's flawed details. Oy. Again I say, it's. A. Novel. The author of the beliefnet essay seemed entirely oblivious to the idea that there's a distinction between something that claims to be scholarly and something that doesn't--think MSNBC vs. The Daily Show. Worse, though, the author's failure to grasp this and consequent implication that the theories set forth in the book were intended to be considered in the same context as academic work gave her/him away as, well, pissed. More pissed than rational, in fact, which doesn't so much make for a credible counter argument.

But why so angry? Yeah, Brown has obvious hostility and umbridge with the Catholic church, but...so what? Seriously, someone taking issue with aspects of Catholicism? Not so new. I highly doubt that anyone who reads this book will be struck with a revelation of "huh, so Catholicism...wrong? This changes everything!" If it does, come up with a better counter to lure the 30th percentile back into the fold. But I don't think it will. People are funny about religion--they believe what they want to believe and aren't easily persuaded in one direction or another. Unless they don't know what they believe and are desperate to believe something, in which case they jump on the first thing that sounds credible. To that end, if there are curious readers who make their faith decisions on what they read in The Da Vinci Code, well, they probably weren't great candidates for becoming Good Catholics anyway.

My biggest eyeroll for the beliefnet article was its way of patronizing the readership of this novel. Give people credit for being somewhat discerning in the sources that influence their beliefs. Or, don't, and present them with something better. Either way, it's incredibly condescending to intimate that the poor lost souls of the world can't possibly figure out that they should look beyond the story and inquire further on the points that challenged beliefs they have held without question. Isn't that what strengthens one's conviction in a position--to see it challenged and discover a way to acknowledge the other side and still come out believing?

My second biggest eyeroll was the assertion that Brown used a profoundly feminist interpretation of Christianity to appeal to women because it would sell more books. Two points there: first, speaking with an obvious and unapologetically Catholic position while dismissing entirely a feminist perspective on Christianity does a swift job of inadvertently proving Brown's point about the long-standing desire of the Catholic church to suppress such theories. Second, fuck off.

Okay, I really have to study contracts now. Really.

Oh, unclench

I need Jennifer and Bob at AOL member services to know something right now: my decision to cancel my service (both times!) isn't in any way intended to be construed as a personal attack on you, so stop acting like it is. Look, I only signed up with AO-hell out of utter laziness in February. Your shitty dialup is incredibly overpriced, but the disk was free at Target. Good move there, because I can't even begin to imagine how many more sorry shmucks like me you extract $23.90 from each month. Gah.

But your service worked, and the payments were automatic, so everything was highly compatible with my laziness. The problem arose when I moved to an apartment where a) I didn't bother to install a landline, and b) I'm able to access myriad wireless sources. Do you really think I'd sully my lovely t41 with your dialup shit? Really? Okay, you don't have to answer outloud, as I'm sure every whisper from your lurid mouths is recorded for quality and training purposes by The Powers That Be at AOL, so a silent answer in your head is fine.

I tried to cancel a while ago with Bob, but somehow he talked me into trying some broadband something or other for a few months. Bleh. I forgot about it, and it was only my discovery of another AOL automatic transfer from my checking account that prompted me to call and beg for the love of little gay apples that my account be really and truly cancelled this time. I got Jennifer, who had a midwestern accent but had apparently never been apprised of the parameters of Midwest Friendly. She went from moderately disinterested to full-out Bitch Pants in, like, minutes. I'm just unclear why they seem so utterly unmoved by my frequent and plaintive protestations that my wireless works just fine and I don't need any AOL Broadband whathaveyou to "run on top of it," whatever the hell that means.

In other news:

• I heartily recommend The Incredibles. Really worth a see.
• Read the footnotes.
  
• Profs don't mind brief emails that let them know you dig their class.
  
• If you're in A2 and haven't started looking for an apartment for next year yet, get on it. If you've in A2 and feel like signing a lease with the company that manages my apartment (inquire within), lemme know--if you mention my name and actually sign a lease, I get a nice referral bonus I'll be glad to split with you.
  

Sigh

One of the biproducts of law school is a cyclic feeling of frustration with the people who animate some of the cases we read. To wit--I read a property case this evening regarding covenant enforcement in an Albuquerque neighborhood (Hill v. Community of Damien of Molokai, 911 P.2d 861 (N.M. 1996)). A non-profit corporation who provides people with AIDS and other terminal illnesses places to live within residential communities leased a house in the Four Hills Village subdivision and created a group home for four AIDS patients. Shortly following a (postive) newspaper article about the home, the neighbors decided to file for an injunction against the home, claiming they were upset about the increased traffic the home brought to their neighborhood and that it violated one of the restrictive covenants that applied to all homes in that portion of the subdivision. Specifically, they claimed the use violated the covenant which specified all homes were only ever to be used as single-family dwellings.

They claimed their suit had nothing to do with a People With AIDS Ick Us Out doctrine, but the facts are somewhat problematic. "When a patient [from the group home] was taken to the hospital by ambulance, one family stood in their yard holding champagne glasses." Albuquerque Tribune, Jan. 15 1996, at A3.

You read that correctly. They held up champagne glasses as a person with AIDS was taken to the hospital by ambulance. Fuckers. Seriously? Take your God Hates Fags rhetoric and shove it. Better yet, sit on it for a few and reflect on your behavior: your hatred and bigotry led you to celebrate the worsening of someone's health. I...have not the words. I looked up the article (the line I quoted above was cited in my casebook) to see if it mentioned the names of the people who did this--it didn't, much to my disappointment.

But I'll put aside my ire and utter disgust for a moment to bring up a slightly less angry objection to the neighbors' behavior. Throughout the suit, they maintained the reasons for seeking the injunctions were that a) they didn't like the covenant being violated, and b) they didn't like the increase in neighborhood traffic that (supposedly) resulted from the group home's presence. Please. If you're going to have the gall to stand on your lawn and cheer when the guy with AIDS goes to the hospital, have the stones to file your suit on your real objection to the situation. What's wrong, afraid to go to court and say you think AIDS is icky and you don't like to think about it living down the street? Too fucking bad. Until you sack up and let your bigotry run public, keep your eyes on your own paper and drink your champagne indoors.

Hominuh of the Week

By no means do I attempt to actually provide the Hominuh of the Week every week. I feel it would cheapen the greatness of HOTW's absurdity to let the calendar dictate my selection rather than the serendipity of coming across something worthy.

[Edit: the limits of my html skills prevent me from formatting these so they fit nicely on the template. Suffer along.]

Today's HOTW entry takes us to something that is growing to be one of my more random pet peeves--unironic prolification of the Buddy Jesus. I don't say this with any sort of anti-Christian tone, because this isn't what I consider Christanity. It's a perverse form of quickie-mart religion that manifests itself in the creepiest of places. To wit:


Fear not, little girl, for Jesus and the Clown with come unto you bearing cake and crucifixes so that your Protestant birthday party dreams may come true.

Apparently, Buddy Jesus also likes juggling:


He who doth not judge another man's bowtie is blessed in the eyes of the bowling pin. In fact, I think the juggler should have a throw down with the clown such that they can collaborate their mutual talents to form a truly great entertainment union. Not a civil union, since it wouldn't be recognized for any purpose in 11 states, but more of a business arrangement. There's probably a lot of business to be had in the fly-over states, what with the endorsement they could fanagle from their good friend and confidante, Buddy Jesus.

Did you know Buddy Jesus accompanies Rumsfeld on the putting green?


It would really piss me off to have the son of God giving my putt line-up such an editorial look. Then again, I guess you're tacitly asking for advice when you don't specify civilian clothes for everyone you invite to the links.

You should go

I went to the library today and came home happy. Not the law library, the real library. The public library. You know, the place with books whose pages are filled with more than cases. I am now a card-carrying member of the Ann Arbor District Library, and the happy borrower of a few books, some music, and part of the seventh season of Friends on DVD.

If you haven’t been to your local public library recently, go. Really, go. Take your driver’s license and a utility bill (or your checkbook or something legitimate that has your address printed on it) and they’ll give you a card. Maybe I have a special fondness in my heart for funky public library branches because I grew up down the street from one and spent every summer there, but the library is a happy place to me. Go. Indulge yourself in a non-school book or two and keep them by your bed. There’s time to sneak in a chapter or two here and there. I promise.

But libraries are about more than the books. They’re an important symbol within our communities—a place where anyone and everyone can enrich their minds with books. Hell, now they carry decent selections of CDs, videos, DVDs, books on tape (okay, does anyone else find that highly ironic?), and so on. There’s a lot there to enjoy, and it’s important for the school-bound to break outside of the academic library setting and browse the aisles of your choice alongside your neighbors. It’s so easy to become fully insulated in academic circles, I know. Breaking out and spending some library time with the rest of your community can have a tremendous normalizing effect; the onion of your school drama cycle peels away for a little while and you begin to feel like just another someone who lives in the neighborhood and started jonesing for a Kennedy biography one afternoon.

In other news, I’ve mostly recovered from this stupid cold. All that remains now is a hacking cough. Oh, it’s a blast. Let me wax poetic for a moment about the ways I enjoy sounding like a 19^th century French hooker with TB during class. I like it almost as much as I dig forgetting to set my cell phone to silence so my Contracts class can enjoy Kelis’s first few bars of “my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard” before my frantic scrambling through my backpack can shut the thing off. I’m very disruptive these days and it’s not even intentional.