Truisms

So when you start law school they give you a few words of advice: "It's not a sprint; it's a marathon." I am pretty sure that is not entirely accurate. It is more like one of those iron-man marathons, that involve hundreds or maybe thousands of miles of excruciating running at ridiculous altitudes, testing all of your physical and mental resources and, ultimately, probably removing several years from your life.

Dear Crafter:

I do not care if you put a dirty watch cog on some piece of crap. That does not make it $40 "steampunk" jewelry.

Haiku: She Must Be From Pasadena

Old woman, barely
able to peek over the
wheel, why tailgate me?

At least I know what it is.

I have decided to embrace the Bush Doctrine wholeheartedly: I am now preemptively hating Monday.

Sunday nights make me twitchy. Or wretched. Wretch-y. They make me retch. Yes.

Just so's we're clear

I do not consider myself a "blogger." In fact, I knee-jerk despise any compound verbal monstrosity beginning with the prefix "blog-." However, I would like to take this moment to tell every law professor who has ever written a journal article to check your own stupid citations.

Oh, law school. It is pretty much just a three-year hazing process where alcohol consumption goes from "a blast" to "a problem and maybe there's a group you should join." I try to study, but most of the time I end up pondering things like whether an intelligible principle would (re-)animate a delegation of emergency powers from the legislative branch to the executive branch for the purpose of combating the inevitable zombie apocalypse. If anyone knows the answer to this, please tell me, because it is really bugging me.

A (Qualified) Tale

So today I walked the 45-60 minutes from my apartment (listening to Gary Numan and the like at full-volume (yet still being a responsible, vigilant pedestrian) (I was pretty excited because I saw my favorite land-yacht, a fin-bedecked '62 or '63 Cadillac, at an auto shop on the way)) to the Sunflower Farmers' Market (which I guess I thought would be more farmers'-markety (there were a lot of fruits and vegetables from Mexico; not so local (although they did have a lot of organic products (the kind that you never know ::how:: organic they are)))), and then I walked the 45-60 minutes back (I wanted to take the bus, but I just missed it, and it was getting rainy (so better to move than be stuck at the stop)), but I unfortunately realized that because the initial part of my walk was sunny (very sunny, actually, at this altitude), walking along the road exposed me to potentially high levels of ozone (NOx + VOCs + sunlight (the first two, of course, generated by cars)), longterm exposure to which can lead to severe pulmonary effects.


Environmentalism: you just can't win.