Thursday, August 30, 2007

Morons of the Week: Criss Angel fans

Wow. Just when I thought pro wrestling, the Global Warming Denial Machine, and David Blaine had laid claim to all the gullible people in North America, this knucklehead comes along and usurps the throne. But I can't blame him for making a buck off of the stupidity of others--hell, NASCAR has been doing that for years! My real qualm is with his supporters.

Holy Toledo, he just bit a crowbar in half and levitated in the middle of the street! Amazing! And what's he doing now--oh, my--he's fox-trotting up the side of an office building! How the hell does he do that?? Dude, I think I--yeah...


The only freaky thing here is that there seems to be a mass following of bafoons who actually buy into this pathetic charade. Newsflash folks, there's nothing Mindfreakish about just plain lying about stuff (trust me, I know--I'm a law student).

The sad reality for these people is that there's a whole lot of mindnumbing and not so much of the mindfreaking going on. This guy wakes up, puts on a black shirt, jewelry and makeup, and stands in front of a camera psyching you out about all this cool shit he's gonna do. The camera stops rolling, he goes home, the editors put in the camera effects, and all of a sudden he's gone from looking like your regular bus station bathroom stall gigolo to Harry fucking Houdini.

The only magical thing about this guy is that he spells his name "Criss" and has yet to get his ass stomped into the intensive care ward. COME ON PEOPLE!!!

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Anatomy of a Nervous Breakdown


Students are busily going about their days, scooting by endless rows of long, tall shelves of important looking leather-bound books as they head to and from class.

SUZIE, a blonde 1L dolled up in trendy wares, sits alone and anxious at a table amidst the shuffle, her eyes wide and tearing, as she stares helplessly into the screen of her laptop.

(frantically prodding at the keyboard)

SAMMY, a short, skinny, enthusiastic, geeky fellow 1L instantly appears from around the staircase. He's clearly been praying for just this opportunity since orientation... which was only three days ago.

(rushes to SUZIE's side)
What's wrong Suzie??!

(still fixed on the screen; now hyperventilating)
I... I can't get my--my... my Torts brief is... G-G-G-GONE!!!

Oh no, Suzie! Are you sure, let me see if I can--

(violently slaps SAMMY's hand away)
DON'T TOUCH THAT! (now sobbing and full-on hysterical)

(hurt, but still hopeful)
Oh, uh, oops. I'm sorry!

(a pause)

While SUZIE throws herself onto her laptop in anguish, SAMMY thinks for a moment, then darts toward the stairwell with astonishing speed and ascends three stairs at a time. Over his shoulder:

Don't worry Suzie!! I'll go get Professor... (trails off)

(face in hands)

From a corner table, previously off-screen, a PAIR OF JADED 2Ls has been casually observing the scene. They watch SUZIE sob, and after a few moments:

JADED 2L #1:
Did that just happen?

JADED 2L #2:
Like you fucking care. Let's go to Checkers.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Moron of the Week: A Self-Portrait

That's right folks, I was nominated (by myself) for the second installment of this prestigious award, and the LS4D Subcommittee (e.g., me) on Moronic Affairs unanimously approved the nomination!

Okay, so maybe that's not really me... but it'd be a lot cooler if it was. Anywho, the Subcommittee (again--me) officially selected me this week, citing the following reasons:

1. Thus far I cannot, for the life of me, get myself to take school seriously this semester, despite the fact that my lifelong career options kind of depend on doing so.

2. I have on several occasions stayed in the library for well over an hour after my classes were done for the day, but didn't once do any work or reading there (unless you consider Google-imaging Halloween costume ideas to be work, in which case we should be friends).

3. Taking naps on the couch from roughly 4pm to 7pm (also in lieu of studying), thus ruining any chance of getting to bed at a reasonable hour when I have to be up by 7:30 the next morning.

4. Actually finding myself saying, during a conversation with a friend, "I really don't think Joey Harrington [Michael Vick's replacement] is going to be that bad. I mean, really, if you look at the schedule, we could even make the playoffs this year..."

5. I have now spent another 20 minutes bumbling aimlessly on this blog, while I have three reading assignments for tomorrow that I haven't even started yet.

I would like to thank all of the morons in my life for helping me to see what it takes achieve this award. But most of all I thank myself--I couldn't have done it without me. We finally did it, baby!

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

The Job Search begins

So now that I've finished my first year and my first summer, I can start the interviewing process. The problem, as many of you know, is that to start the interviewing process, you have to be selected for the opportunity to beg for a job.

And it's tough to say the least, especially when every single interviewer's page in the career services database reads something like...

- Rank: Top 10%
- Law Review
- Moot Court

Hey, that's great! This on-campus interviewing thing seems like a terrific resource for the 15 people that actually fit these credentials. But for the other 400+ students frantically clawing around for next year's Summer Associate positions, this means lots of time spent writing emails and cover letters that are ignored, resumes that go directly to the trash, and staring at the ceiling imagining what the mother hell you're gonna do when you graduate law school and nobody will hire you.

And hey, new 2L Law Review members: BOO FUCKING HOO for you. So you're camping out in the library on Thursday night, missing a little bit of sleep. You get to brag to recruiters, even to your family. You DON'T however get to loudly "complain" about it in class. Congratulations, you got marvellous grades. The rest of us couln't give a fat tit about it because we're too busy being tortured by images of a future spent enforcing debt collection or doing real estate closings. But hey, check back with me in eight years when you have no one in your social or love life to help you spend the substantial wealth you've amassed.

Bitter? Motherfuckin right! I know it's only August, but SOMEBODY GIVE ME A FUCKING INTERVIEW!!!

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Moron of the Week: Special Inaugural 2-part Edition!!!

Today I'm beginning what will be a new quasi-weekly feature highlighting the asinine. For my first installment, I present to you a couple of easy targets:

We have Michael Vick and Tim Donaghy (not Kobe, but the short cracker next to him). Vick, of course, you know as indicted (and soon to be convicted) canine coliseum promoter/dog killer (and piss-poor quarterback) extraordinaire. Donaghy is an NBA referee who has just pled guilty to fixing point spreads in games he officiated in order to satisfy his mob gambling debts. Aside from the fact that they're both degenerates, they also have one thing in common: trying their best--and succeeding--to throw away a cushy dream career involving no actual work. Well done gentlemen!

However, Vick is by far the biggest moron here. Here's a guy who came from nothing, but was handed the world because of his innate athletic ability. So you get to the NFL, the city and its NFL franchise immediately embraces you, and you're filthy ass rich. Despite the fact that your intelligence level is embarrasingly low, or that you couldn't hit the broad side of a barn with a football, you are nonetheless loved by all.

The world has been handed to you! All you have to do in return is lift weights, learn plays, and use your brain sometimes.

But then what kind of moron would you be? Instead, you took the road of the embicile. Let's review a few of your escapades:

- Using the alias "Ron Mexico" on an STD test. Way to sneak below the radar there.
- Settling a civil suit brought by some ho-ho to whom you probably gave herpes
- Getting caught with a stolen watch at an airport security checkpoint
- Smoking weed--and being photographed while doing it
- Trying to sneak a water bottle w/ hidden ganja compartment, also through an airport security checkpoint (because clearly a man with a $140 mil contract should risk his reputation by trying to hang onto a $12.99 weed bottle)
- Admitting you stopped trying (excellent leadership decision) in the fourth quarter of a close game
- Shooting the bird at home fans when they rightfully booed horrendous passing performance no. 138
- Standing up the entire U.S. Congress, who had scheduled a special ceremony to honor your charitable contributions--then blaming AirTran, one of your corporate sponsors, for missing the flight
- Being related to your brother Marcus (okay, not technically his fault--but scoldworthy nonetheless)

Not to mention, in six years in the NFL, your QB skills have actually regressed. Yes, you are a spectacular runner with mind-blowing speed. Unfortunately that's about all you are, and an NFL QB must be much more--e.g. passing accuracy, ability to read a defense, good decision-making, and leadership abilities (see Manning, Peyton; McNabb, Donovan; Brady, Tom).

Nevertheless, despite your repeated off-field episodes and your mediocre QB skills, we gave you the benefit of the doubt. We stuck with you. We naively believed you when you said you were working hard, making the right decisions, and that you loved the Falcons and their fans. And now you've gone and been indicted (and at this point, all but convicted) of some pretty reprehensible, senseless, MORONIC stuff. You have officially snatched disgrace from the jaws of beloved stardom.

And as for you, Tim Donaghy, well, you're just a weasel. Vick may be guilty of being extremely dumb, but you connived to wreck the NBA, thereby toying with people's jobs and integrity, in order to line your pockets a little and fuel your gambling habit. You were making six figures, staying in nice hotels with comfy per diems, and shmoozing with star athletes--all for running around and blowing a whistle a few times a week. But that wasn't enough for you, because you're a sleazy slimeball! You are now going to federal prison, where you may or may not share a cell with a certain mentally challenged ex-quarterback.

Justice Moustache salutes you both for proving that people will always find ways to destroy terrific situiations for themselves. Enjoy your stays in the pokey!

Sunday, August 12, 2007

Back in the saddle

After three months of actually working a real lawyerly job in nearby Metropolis, I'm now back in the exact same spot I was a year ago. Back to the classrooms, books and cases of legal academia, back to the same apartment in the same humid town, with the same smells that I can now once again detect (since I've been away from this place for so long, certain everyday scents that were previously stored in my smell cache have expired, with the result that today I'm taken back to this time last year when I sat in here awaiting my first day of law school orientation).

However, there is of course one crucial difference from last year--that being the fact that I'm not anxious and uncertain about what's in store. I'm not worried about grades, I'm not concerned about who my classmates are and how they'll receive me. All that stuff has since run its course.

I am, however, concerned about the fact that three summer months of leaving your A/C off apparently renders it incapable of working properly. In the seven hours since I've been back, w/ the air on full blast, the temperature in here has actually risen from 87 to 89. I suspect a conspiracy by the power company. They clearly noticed my dramatic dropoff in kilowatt hours and sabotaged my central heat and air in some sort of spiteful recourse.

Anywho, I'm officially back on the blog circuit, I and have plenty of catching up to do, so I promise not to slack like I did over the summer. Yes, I'm back. It's hot as tits, but here we go, on with year numero deuce!

Fucking great.