Judgment Eve

Fingers crossed everyone. . .

Language Acquisition 101: Or, Becoming Germanick

So last week I completed my first wave of finals here in Germany. WTO, Venture Capital, EU Law, Comparative Intellectual Property. Check, check, check, and check.

Now, after a feverish week of studying and test-taking (4 days straight of early-morning exams), I have an entire week off. Many in the exchange group are traveling and enjoying themselves. I have decided, somewhat masochistically it turns out, to remain here in Hamburg and take intensive German classes for 4 hours a day.

The class itself is one of the more diverse collections of people you’ll find outside of a meeting of the General Assembly of the UN. In our group of 10 we have representatives from: Albania, Poland, China, Croatia, Mexico, Brazil, Britain, Kenya, and the US of A.

The people are friendly and the peer environment supportive and non-judgmental.

The teacher/student dynamic, however, is a bit different.

It’s not so much that he points out our plentiful errors, which, fair enough, is kind of what we pay him to do. No, it’s that he sees every mistake as a reason to mock us mercilessly with some sort of long stand-up routine.

Mercilessly.

To give an example of what I mean, imagine you are a non-native, limited-ability English speaker. You are trying to say that the boy “was running” around town, but you make an error and say “the boy was runny” around town.

That's mildly funny right? Sure.

Now imagine that the teacher, even though he is perfectly aware of what you mean, looks at you incredulously.

“Runny? The boy was runny?” he says, a faux-confused look on his face. “Like, he was a liquid? What, was he melting? Was he some sort of alien or mutant or something that had special powers and could turn his body into liquid?”

You quickly correct your error, but the class has begun to laugh at his outlandish examples, encouraging him.

“Was he like some sort of snail-man who oozes snail goo all over the place?” He continues, pointing at you and gathering steam and doing his best impression of what a snail-man would move and speak like. “Hey, everybody, look at me, I'm half snail, half man! Does this creature even exist? Who knows? Apparently Nick thinks he does. Nick literally thinks that there is a creature out there that is half snail, half man. Don't you Nick?"

He pauses and looks at you, as if he expects a real answer, and you nod wordlessly and hope he begins to start mocking someone else soon.

This, as far as I can tell, is his method. I have mixed feelings about it.

On the one hand, it’s cheap and mean and dehumanizing.

On the other hand though, I’m starting to think it might be kind of brilliant. It might even be the best way possible to learn a language: one humiliating mistake after another.

Take law school, for example. The only way I can ever guarantee that I will remember something from class is if I screw it up. Or I suppose if someone else screws it up. I still remember a kid in 5th grade running out of class crying because he couldn’t remember the answer to a question about the human body (answer: tibia).

And that’s the point. You know all those memories that make you catch your breath in shame or embarrassment when you think about them? These tend to be instructive memories. And there’s this place in your brain where those memories are all indelibly recorded in high-definition to be replayed for the rest of your life. I think ideally, you need to get all your language mistakes into that part of your brain to succeed.

This is the Bob Knight school of language acquisition. And though the Bob Knight philosophy never really worked for me in basketball (it caused me to freeze-up and become erratic), I’m hoping it will be more effective in this field.

So, Mr. Professor Man, I’m going to put my faith in you. I’m going to trust that you know what you’re doing and that you are, like Bob Knight, a professional. Go wild. Next time I misuse the dative, pick up a chair and throw it against the wall. Next time I misconjugate a routine verb, call me an asshole, punch me in the gut and storm out of the classroom. Seriously, do it. You’ve got my blessing. The more outlandish and memorable the better.

It’s the only way I’ll learn.

Oh See Eye: On Word Games and Interview Season

First things first. I promised myself when I started this blog that I would never, ever apologize for not writing. I always hated tuning into a blogs and read something along these lines: “Sorry I haven’t written for a while, but . . .” What am I, your editor?

Stop with the apologies and write something.

Or don’t. What do I care?

The point of having a blog at all is that you don’t have deadlines, nobody forces you to write, and for the most part, nobody reads it. That being said, this particular period of textual drought was particularly egregious, so I figured I would at least acknowledge it.

Consider it acknowledged (Jon).

And yes, I have been a little bit busy for the last few weeks. Why? OCI.

There is this crazy thing at the end of the summer (and fall and spring) called “On Campus Interviews.” It’s where law firms visit the campus in search of the students they believe would make a good fit for their firm. For around 5 days you and your peers will interview, schmooze, drink, eat, and charm your way to positions in firms from around the nation.

So, in the last three weeks I’ve spent around 27 hours speaking to approximately 52 lawyers in several cities from about 15 different firms. I also went to the State Fair. Twice. (Hi Katie!)

And the great part about this whole OCI thing was that I actually found the vast majority of it to be quite enjoyable. Nearly everyone I met was collegial, chatty, and had a good deal of helpful things to teach me about the practice of law. Plus the food was excellent and the drinks plentiful.

Here’s a breakdown of what to expect should you ever go through a similar situation.

The interviews on campus

A lot of people don’t like the endless interviewing because they find it tedious and superficial. I don’t mind it one bit. Honestly. And it’s not just that I’m a desperately lonely and love-deprived hermit who craves eye contact and probing questions (although that’s obviously part of it).

It’s that I don’t mind small talk. I don’t mind engaging complete strangers in conversation and seeing where it leads. I’ve never minded striking up conversations in a bar, waiting in line, or sitting on a plane or bus.

True, this can backfire. There’s nothing worth than starting a lengthy conversation with a voluble dullard whilst a stellar book sits neglected in your backpack.

Or there was that one time I was seated next to a soul-saving-proselytizer.

Shoot. Me. Now.

Of course, interviews don’t have this problem. Even if you don’t absolutely hit it off, the interview’s only scheduled for 20 minutes, so you have an easy out. One interviewer and I compared the whole process to speed dating: an opportunity to get to know as many people as quickly as possible in the hopes of finding that cosmic match along the way.

The interviewer noted that she would have liked to have had more time to ask her questions. I actually thought that 20 minutes was too much. Which makes sense because my history indicates that I tend to say something inappropriate after right around 17 minutes of uninterrupted conversation.

I actually think that they could probably do the same thing in about 5 minutes. For me, it tends to be about warmth, tone, and effort, all of which can be determined shortly after the personality leaves the gate. (The downside to this foreshortened approach is what speed-datalogists call the Hans Solo/Princess Leah conundrum: when a relationship begins with outward hostility but ends with a galaxy-saving/empire-destroying union of two perfectly matched souls).

So I guess it’s a trade-off. You might miss out on your Hans Solo, but you can certainly weed out the Chewbaccas. (Hint: they hit people and scream incomprehensibly a lot).

In my opinion the best interviews were the ones that for some reason or other were unique. The interviewer was exceptionally candid or the discussion was particularly lively and interesting. That sort of thing.

For example, in one of the best interviews I had, both interviewers told me stories about how, at one point they had left their firms, only to eventually come back. The reason for their triumphant returns? They missed their friends.

AAHHH.

At the time, it was the most endearing endorsement for the intangibles of a law firm that I had heard all week.

Then there was the interviewer who continuously assured me that his firm had one of the lowest “Asshole Quotients” ( AQ’s) he’d ever seen. He was incredibly excited about the whole thing. Obviously, he explained, you’re never going to find an asshole quotient of zero, but his firm comes pretty close. Since he seemed to be about the farthest thing from an asshole I could conceive of, I believed him.

Then there was the interview outside in the sun on a bench. Nice touch.

So those are my thoughts on the interviews. Largely positive. True, there are a few downsides: you’re nervous and it’s kind of an artificial situation that and sort of thing. But if you don’t mind small talk you should be just fine. Besides, from what I found, the AQ at these kinds of things is incredibly low.

The Receptions

If the interviews weren’t really your style-- too stuffy and formal—then there’s a good chance that you were at the receptions that the different firms were hosting. These receptions were very valuable because they offered the employers and employees a chance to get to know each other in a more informal setting. And they also had booze.

During OCI Orientation we were encouraged, like always, to drink responsibly. I think the laughably low figure of one drink was thrown around as being a prudent amount.

But who really gains if we all stick to one drink? For those of you interested in politics, you are probably familiar with the term “kick the tires.”

These receptions are the hiring partners way (and ours as well) of “kicking the tires.” Sure he’s tolerable in an interview for twenty minutes or so, but what happens when we expose him to a free bar?

Does he begin dropping plates? Is his nametag on upside down? If we give out large bouncy balls as a party favor, will he begin to bounce it before leaving the function? (He will).

The basic idea is that you will have the opportunity to socialize with the person that either a) has already interviewed you for a job, or b) will be interviewing you for a job the following day. Since the students tend to far outnumber the interviewers the whole enterprise has a kind of ingratiating and ass-kissing feel to it.

That’s not a dig at the event. In fact, given everyone’s unusually pleasant and polite disposition, I think it’s an endorsement. Every joke is well received and every smile freely given as the students try to make a favorable impression on their fondest firms. And if you’re having trouble catching the attention of your latest crush/firm, you can hang out and have a couple of drinks with your friends. It’s an absolute ball.

Usually these kinds of receptions were hosted at a local bar, but the most bizarre and post-modern, (and surely the one most open to interpretation) was hosted at the Englert Theater in downtown Iowa City. At the theater, students smiled, mingled and drank expensive drinks on a lighted stage while decisions concerning their fate were being conducted by mysterious and powerful entities behind the scenes. I almost felt like I was watching my own personal version of Mulholland Drive. Of course, consistent with Lynchian tone and sense of humor, the seats of the theater remained dark and empty.

Make of that what you will.

The Errors

If I was giving myself a rating for the last few weeks, I would say that I batted .289 with a couple of homers and maybe 5 errors. This means that I will not win a golden glove award for flawlessness, but I feel like I can contribute on someone’s roster.

Error #1

Of these errors, the weirdest and most notable by far was putting the word “Scabble” on my résumé instead of the more commonly used “Scrabble.” For those of you unfamiliar, Scrabble is a popular household word game. (Note: though I contemplated listing Scrabble under the “skills” section, I eventually included it under the “interests” section or my résumé).

To begin, this is quite possibly the most ironic typographical error in the history of résumés. Ever.

To paraphrase Churchill (or somebody), it is a layer of irony wrapped in a nougat of unexpectedness and stuffed in a riotously funny Russian doll of humor.

First, the word Scrabble is itself a sort of made up word. As far as I know, it doesn’t exist in dictionaries nor is it a playable Scrabble word. So technically I misspelled a fake, made-up word. Funny stuff.

Second, and most glaring of course, was that Scrabble is a word game in which one must correctly spell a word to be successful. Thus, my claim that I have both an interest in and aptitude for the game instantly becomes unconvincing.

Let me repeat: I MISPELLED THE NAME OF A WORD GAME ON MY RESUME !

Of course, when it was brought to my attention I immediately uploaded a revised edition of my résumé for potential employers. Apparently though, all the employers had all downloaded the original version and had it lying out in front of them before the interview even began. The damage had been done.

The funny thing about this? It might have been colossally stupid, but it might also have been unintentionally brilliant. The first three minutes of every interview were spent dissecting the implications of such a bizarre typo. Several people “challenged” my spelling. One wondered if I was really as good a “scabble” player as I claimed to be and followed it with a hearty chuckle. Everyone seemed to be at least mildly amused at the novel and unconventional nature of the faux-pas.

At this point I've convinced myself that the error was at the very least a wash and moved on with my life.

Error #2

Though it wasn’t nearly as grave as the Scabble situation, I was also bit directly in the face by my friend’s bulldog just two days before several call-back interviews. She was just playing, but there was a noticeable half-inch gash between my eyes. A friend of mine suggested make-up, but he works in broadcasting so that’s his solution to everything. In the end I sucked it up and finished out my week.

Conclusion

In executive summary form, here are my suggestions for completing a successful OCI:

· Enjoy the food
· Enjoy the drink
· Enjoy the conversation
· Learn something
· Spell check
· Avoid bulldogs

I Bet I'm Celebrating Law Day Harder Than You Are

It's that time of year again. The one time of year when we set aside all of our differences, get together with our friends and family, exchange heartfelt gifts, and give the Lord our humblest thanks for all the Law he has given us.

Happy Law Day to all!

When I was young we used to go around the table taking turns saying which Law we were most thankful for that year. Mine was always a tie between the Laws that stopped people from unlawfully taking my property and the ones that stopped people from murdering me. My mother made us do this so we would never forget how truly lucky we were to be living in a country with such a bounty of Laws. I hope that each and every one of you takes a moment out of your day today to appreciate this truly special day.

Though our family has trouble getting together like we used to, I decided to do a little celebration of my own. This year I celebrated, like most Americans, by attempting to master an entire area of law (Evidence) in a single day; and by compiling long lists of questions for our state's legal experts at the Boyd Law Building. It truly was a treat and reminded me once again of how lucky we are to be in a place that recognizes an important holiday like Law Day.

End of the Year Law Book Reviews: From Violent Courtroom Thrillers to Rollicking Constitutional Laugh Fests

Book Review 1:

Criminal Law: Cases and Materials, Second Edition,

By Saltzburg, Diamond, Kinports, and Morawtez

Do you love page turning courtroom thrillers? How about seamy tales of the dark, criminal underbelly of society? If so Criminal Law: Cases and Materials, Second Edition, might be just what you’re looking for.

The beauty of Saltzburg’s latest work isn’t the sensational depictions of widespread sex and violence which keep you turning the pages; although that’s certainly one aspect. No, the beauty is that that the narrator tells these tales of violence, loss, and retribution so thoughtfully, with such depth, that we never lose sight of the moral dilemmas and philosophic underpinnings of the modern criminal justice system in which the characters operate. In that sense, reading Crimianl Law, Cases and Materials, Second Edition, is a bit like reading Crime and Punishment if Dostoevsky had written it while engaging in a late night drinking session Irvine Welsh and Johnie Cochran.

And while it’s true that the sensationalist, bloody nature of the substance kept me turning the pages, formally the work was a bit more challenging. Instead of a straightforward linear narration of the plot, Saltzburg presents the reader with vignettes in a very fragmented style.

One moment we are in 1923 witnessing a highly publicized bootlegging case. The next moment we are in 1983 for a nuclear protest case. Was the brother from trial 4 the same man who had a duty to act to save his wife in trial 92? Did the lawyer who prosecuted the gang member in trial 7 in 1962, become a judge, only to deliver a verdict for the subsequent gang member in 1992? What is the connection between these two events and what sort of relevance should we give to them?

Other questions jump out at the discerning reader. For example, what kind of significance should we give to the inclusion of a 20 page index at the end of the book? Should we take it at face value as a handy organizational tool? Or is it instead a tongue-in-cheek tribute to post-modern aesthetics? And what should we make of the studiously academic, almost clinical tone of the omniscient narrator?

In this sense, the book is much more Joyce than Grisham. And just as Joyce, its scale and scope are certainly daunting. But don’t let the size of the book, weighing in at 1002 pages, scare you off. Take it from me, Saltzburg has a gift for narrative economy, and easily packs more violence and contemplation into 1002 pages than most authors of the genre could pack into 1160. I’ll admit, it’s difficult for the reader to make sense of it all. God knows I tossed Gravity’s Rainbow against the wall 20 times before it all became clear. But stick with it, and remember, even if it doesn’t make sense, at least there’s a felony-murder scene just about every five minutes to make sure you keep turning those pages.

Book Review 2:

Constitutional Law, Sixteenth Edition

By Sullivan and Gunther

If you enjoyed the 1st through 15th editions, of Constituttional Law, be sure to pick up a copy of the sixteenth and you won't be disappointed.

It all starts out typically enough. The nation is in peril. Crime, racism and prejudice are rampant and plague every cranny of our society. The political divides are deep and the disparity of wealth is running out of control. Only one thing can stop a complete and total breakdown. . .

The confused, bumbling, and hilarious members of the United States Government.

Once the goofball legislators in Washington realize there’s a problem, they try to legislate it out of existence. But can they? Not if the Federal Judiciary has its way. The stern and humorless Supreme Court is in no mood for monkey business, and is ready to strike down any cockamamie congressional initiative it can get its judicious hands on.

Slapstick abounds as the legislators continue their futile attempts at lawmaking. A bill to protect civil rights? (Boing!) Unconstitutional! A bill for the enforcement of labor and environmental regulations? (Boing, Boing!). Not in our courtroom fellas.

And just when you think things can’t get any wackier, in comes the President. . . and he’s brought the states with him. The states are saying that they can fix these things on a local level, the President refuses to enforce what Congress has authorized him to do, and Congress is stripping the Court of its jurisdiction faster than the Court can invalidate its legislation. Pretty soon the entire cast of crazy constitutional characters is standing in a room seeing who can yell “Separation of Powers Doctrine” in their most grating voice.

Will Congress find a way around the unyielding, temperamental justices? Will the states hare-brained notions of sovereign immunity be honored? Will the President get to line-item veto that ill-advised spending provision? Or maybe, will this crazy cast set aside their differences, save a nation, and learn the value of teamwork along the way? I think that originalists and functionalists alike would agree. . .

Compact Federalism has never been crazier.

Book Review 3:

Civil Procedure, sixth edition

by Stephen C. Yeazell

This book is about Civil Procedure. That is all.

It is Unfathomable That Any Doubt At All Lingers Anywhere as to the Total Rightness of Me

One of the things that I love about reading pages upon pages of legal opinions from law textbooks. . . .Ok, the ONE thing that I like about reading pages upon pages of legal opinions from law textbooks, is that you start seeing the same funny language over and over.

For example, here are seven sentences that I found in one night of reading that say essentially the same thing:

1. It is uniformly conceded that. . .
2. It can scarcely be doubted that. . .
3. There can be no doubt that. . .
4. It is well-established that. . .
5. It cannot be contended that . . .
6. The conclusion is therefore inescapable. . . .
7. (My favorite) The general correctness of this statement cannot be doubted. . .

I love it. Doesn’t get much more forceful and authoritative-sounding that that. Often times when I’m reading I’ll just nod along and say to myself, “God, I wish I could have doubted that, but I’m shackled. . .it’s WELL ESTABLISHED.”

It’s really a pretty brilliant strategy of argument. In fact, I wish I would have discovered this tactic as a young boy when I found myself engaged in vicious, no holds-barred arguments with my older brother:

Brother— Let’s watch MTV
Nick—No, let’s watch Full House. (Go on, judge me if you will).
Brother—MTV is better.
Nick—MTV? You must be joking. It is unanimously conceded, and cannot seriously be doubted, that Full House constitutes a higher quality level of television programming. The fact has been well established and does not admit serious discussions to the contrary.

Does everyone see the overwhelming force of that argument? There’s nothing my brother could have done but hand over the controller and start writing fan mail to Uncle Joey. It CAN’T fail.

For those of you who get into arguments at home with your spouses, friends, parents, rivals, etc., here’s a little cheat sheet so you can play along at home.

1. Take one of these words: uniformly, comprehensively, globally, unanimously, solidly, unconditionally (or other similar adverb),
2. Add one of these words: admitted, conceded, granted, accepted, acknowledged, recognized, agreed, (or similar past participle)
3. Throw on the phrase “It is. . .” to begin the sentence. . .

And Presto. . . you’re a Circuit Court Judge!

For those of you who spurn courtesies and prefer to infuriate and/or demean your adversary, try the more negative “Bill O’Reilly” variations. Here’s just a few to get you started.

1. It would take a fool or a simpleton to postulate that. . .
2. Idiots often maintain that. . .
3. Only a really big stupid asshole would ever argue that. . .

(Note: for maximum effectiveness, try yelling “Shut up” as loud as you can immediately upon finishing your thought).

So next time your girlfriend/boyfriend/wife/spouse wants to argue, just let them know that what you think, indeed, the absolute correctness of your thoughts and ideas, simply CANNOT be doubted. It’s well established.

Trust me, they’ll LOVE that.

The CAT'S Out of the Bag: CIA Interrogators Run Amok at Guantanamo

Tonight, I relax.

I just finished emailing my final brief of the year to my professor and boy does it feel good. It feels like I can finally sleep after having been denied it for days. . . like I have finally been allowed to sit after standing for hours. . . like I have finally stopped drowning. . .like the incessant blaring music has finally come to an end. . . like the questions have stopped. . . like the burlap sack has been removed from my head. . .like. . .

Well, you get the idea. The torture is over.

The issue of this brief? Whether the "enhanced interrogation techniques" (sleep deprivation, short shackling) that the CIA has been employing at Guantanamo Bay constitute torture.

I argued that they did. It was not a moral choice. If I had been assigned differently, I would have argued that they did not.

Just following orders.

Here's an executive summary of the assignment:

In 1984 countries across the land got together and agreed not torture people. I suppose at the time it was a novel concept. This agreement was called the Convention Against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman, or Degrading Treatment or Punishment. Torture was roughly defined as "inflicting severe physical or mental pain or suffering" on a detainee. A ton of countries, including the United States, signed on.

United States went home, and by 1992 had enacted its own statute, The Torture Statute (18 U.S.C. 2340), to implement its commitment to the CAT in domestic law. The language was virtually the same as the language found in the CAT.

Fast forward to circa 2003. In our fake case for class, a detainee who is about to be tortured (or if you prefer euphemisms: "enhancedly" interrogated), is suing the government and all of the officers who have signed off on these enhanced techniques for violating the statute.

Government says the claim is outrageous and they don't torture, and even if they use short shackling and sleep deprivation, that's not torture.

Therein lies the dispute.

And now to my main point of writing this blog. In the assignment, the detainee is suing people like John Yoo from the Office of Legal Counsel, William Haynes III the General Counsel to the Pentagon, and even Alberto Gonzalez when he was at the Department of Justice. But this might just be the tip of the iceberg.

It turns out, after last night's story on ABC NEWS, he could've been suing some other notable people as well: Dick Cheney, John Ashcroft, Condoleeza Rice, George Tenet, Donald Rumsfeld, and Colin Powell, all of whom signed off on the methods IN DETAIL.

Here's the story that came out yesterday about how all of these public officials sat down in a smoke-filled room in the basement of the White House and started brainstorming in a way I like to call "thinking outside the statute."

If you'd like to watch the story that aired on TV, feel free to go here.

Here's a bit that I found particularly disturbing:

"According to a top official, Ashcroft asked aloud after one meeting: 'Why are we talking about this in the White House? History will not judge this kindly.'"

How Nixonian. With statements like that, it's going to be pretty tough to make the argument that you had no idea that you might be doing something morally wrong or even breaking the law.

But I guess I'll worry about that later. For now, I'm done wrestling with this issue. All that research, all that time formatting and struggling, it might not have been torture, but it was certainly and enhanced amount of suffering.

And now I'm ready to relax.

Two New Blawgs at the University of Iowa, and Brief Discussion of My Hypochondriasis

It's just recently come to my attention that two new blawgs have sprung up in the past couple of weeks.

There's the UI Law Blog, which seems to have been created after the uproar of the Law School's three-spot, world-altering, student enraging slide in the upcoming U.S. News Ratings. Thus far they've provided pretty straightforward content dealing with the goings-ons at the Law School.

And there's also a blog called The First Floor that looks to have enlisted the help of some astute and playful bloggers to get them going and should be a pretty good read. Special kudos to the designer for making such a viewer/user friendly and handsome blog. Here' s a link to what I found to be the best post thus far, called "Law Student Tourette's."

In other news, I'm always kind of fretting about all of the awful, degenerative things that could be going on inside my body without my even being aware. I hear stories about people with brain tumors going undetected for years until they're the size of tennis balls and I think "is that happening to me right now?" In fact, I think about it so much that I give myself a headache. Which makes me think I have a tumor. Which makes me. . . etc.

So I'm always kind of fretting about things like that while still going about my daily activities and trying not to let it affect me. But lately something has changed. I'm beginning to think that resistance might be futile, that my environment is destined to get the better of me.

Take water for instance. Though I have long railed against bottled water as being an anti-environmental elitist perversion, I have recently grown very suspicious of the cloudy, chemical smelling liquid coming out of my faucet.

A few things have made me rethink my commitment to using cheap and easy tap water. First, in a Civil Action, which we were compelled to read for Civil Procedure this year, the kids who drank cloudy water ended up getting cancer and dying. Point taken. Second, the recent news in the DM Register a couple days ago brought it to my attention that we have a major ammonia problem with our water supply. Third, when we signed our lease at the beginning of the year I had to sign some sort of release about lead poisoning. I know it was a long time ago, but I still think about it when I turn on the tap after a late night jog.

Though I'm not ready to start importing Norwegian glacier water just yet, I might start trying to fill up my nalgene bottle at the law school for a little while and see how that works. Which brings me to another carcinogen (assuming we can count "water" as the first carcinogen) that I initially resisted.

Mobile phones.

They used to say things like "Get a cell phone," or "Why don't you have a cell phone?" or, more frequently, "Nick is the stupid person who doesn't use cell phones." They used to taunt and ridicule me for my studied, Amish-like (Amish-ish?) obstinacy. The abuse, the jeers, the rocks hurled in spite and disgust, it's all coming back to me. And all because a little boy didn't want to use a cell phone. In the year 2003 the burden became too heavy to bear, and I broke down and purchased a cell phone of my own.

For all of the convenience and handiness of cell phones, it is a decision that I will probably come to regret.

It turns out that cell phones are probably causing cancer too. A study by an award-winning cancer expert has concluded that

"Mobile phones could kill far more people than smoking or asbestos. . ."

More than smoking? Really? Are you still considered a hypochondriac if the things you fear are REAL threats?

Feel free to read more about your imminent demise here.

My Bracket Was Ruined When Iowa Got a #27 Seed

It seems Iowa just can't catch a break.

First Drake falls due to a last second shot from Western Kentucky.

Then Iowa falls due to an elaborate, yearly calculus using a number of arbitrary factors from the people at U.S. News and World Report.

Apparently, Iowa's ranking in the annual U.S. News publication is going to fall next year from #24 in the nation to #27.

A blogger from the University covers the implications of this rankings slide pretty comprehensively in a couple of posts at a blog called Obscure Minority.

For the record, I'd like to note that I consider myself at least partially responsible for this slide. Specifically, I can recall at least three times the first semester that I missed classes; my understanding of the many provisions of the Uniform Commercial Code was less than complete; and just today I spilled a piece of popcorn on the floor and failed to pick it up.

An institution is only as good as the people traverse its halls. And in this respect, I have failed the University miserably.

That Law Dic is a Bit Wordy

One of the things I don't like about law school is the way it restricts the way I express myself. Given, these restrictions are self-imposed, and probably due mostly to a certain degree of neuroses, but they exist nonetheless.

Allow me to explain. As a non-law student, I think I typically peppered my speech, as many people do, with law related terms and phrases.

For example, two years ago I might have been involved in a conversation like this with a friend:

Friend: Yeah, so the old lady was on my case again.

Nick: Really? What was it this time?

Friend: I forgot to pick up some garlic salt at the grocery store like two months ago and she's finally getting around to pointing out my admitted failure.

Nick: That's a shame. You'd think some kind of statute of limitations had run on that.

Friend: I wish.

HA! And that would be a perfectly acceptable conversation for pre-law school Nick Gregory to have because a phrase like "statute of limitations" is widely used and has made its way into the social vernacular of America.

But fast forward to now. Now, I would feel incredibly uncomfortable saying that exact same thing in a similar social context. In fact, if one of my law school friends said something like that, I'd probably think something like this: "Does everything you say or do have to be about law? Is that it? Have you no other means in which to express yourself? Experiences from which to draw from? Insights with which to convey your wisdom?"

And then I'd walk away thinking "what a prick."

And that's basically the problem I have. The use of law related terms by people uninvolved in the study of law is all fun and games and can often be quite appropriate. But the use by people actively studying the law lends an obsessive quality to those same terms, as if every minute of their waking life must be dedicated to legal-speak.

Today, here's what a similar scenario would look like (dramatization, not based on real events):

Friend: The old lady is accusing me of flying to Nicaragua every week to use drugs and be promiscuous.

Nick: What kind of evidence has she offered in support of this claim?

Friend: Evidence? Oh, I see, you're going all lawyer on me now.

Nick: What word would you want me to use? I think it's quite appropriate and a word that I've probably used freely since about the age of 11. Plus, you used the word accuse, that could probably be considered a law word too.

Friend: Whatever. Prick. Thanks a lot for the help.


Because I fear disapproval and hostility, I'm going to avoid this certain-to-happen scenario. And, in an odd counterintuitive twist to immersing myself in the law, I'll actually be using commonly uttered legal terminology less than I would before law school. Because I don't want to be a prick.

And, as we all know, being a prick, well, that would just be criminal.

Welcome to Beautiful. . . Guanajuato!

It's official. I'll be spending part of my summer (June 1 -- an undecided date in July) studying international law related things in Guanajuato, Mexico.

I had been seriously considering doing the study abroad that the University of Iowa does in France, but the plunging dollar and my newfound love of spicy food forced me to take a long, hard look at programs south of the border. In doing so I found the perfect fit: magical Guanajuato.

Here's what my limited research has revealed to me about Guanajuato thus far:

1. Guanjuato is home to some of the most productive silver mines in the world.

2. It is a several hour bus ride from Mexico City

3. The word Guanajuato means "place of frogs," in the local indigenous language.

That's it. I'll be supplying more information after picking up a tour guide. For those of you interested in Guanajuato, here's the link to the wikipedia write-up.

Adios!

Five MORE Interesting Legal Principles: Part II of a Series

Disclaimer: I hope it is clear that these principles, being both hazily remembered and heavily embellished, are in no way to be taken as legal advice--

1. The Dodgy Guy Washing Your Already-Clean-Windshield-Rule:

Sometimes you can receive payment from people for services even when they haven't requested it. A doctor who stops and performs an emergency trachiatomy with his Swiss army knife to save your life is a good example of this. Although he's probably just going to get the fair market value of the operation, even if he's a world famous and typically charges much more. This is possible because most people assume that an unconscious person, if asked, would indicate his desire to be saved. You can't, however, confer a benefit on someone who, if you asked, wouldn't have wanted the service or requested it. So, you know that kind of dodgy guy who runs up and washes your windshield and then kind of sits there hinting that you owe him something?* Of course, we all do. Now you can simply roll down your window and explain to him that there is a long-established common law principle that supports the idea that you can't confer a benefit on someone who, if you asked, wouldn't have given permission. So just explain that to him. Seriously, do it. . . see what happens.

*Note-- We actually do owe that guy something (think health care). It's just not the kind of something that should come after intimidation tactics at a routine traffic stop.

2. The Gene Hackman/Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio/Richard Posner/Judge Learned Hand Class Action Rule of Economic Analysis of Negligence:

If the burden of precautions (B) is less than the gravity of the injury (L) times the probability of the injury (P), then economically speaking, then you have no incentive to implement the precautions to avoid the accident. Let's say that, like in Class Action, Ford Motor Co. decides that changing a certain valve on one of its cars costs $100 per car. If they don't change it, they are sure to have at least 5 accidents. The accidents will certainly result in the deaths of those injured. If the average award in litigation for automotive negligence that leads to death is $5,ooo,ooo that's a $25,ooo,ooo cost to them. But, if they make the valve changes, say they put out 500,000 cars, they're going to be paying $50,000,000. In that case, they might as well let the cars go out and pay the negligence damages in court.

With one caveat. When the accidents do occur, the company will claim that they don't have to pay the damages because they weren't negligent. Why? Because the B was less than the P x L, which means that the company wasn't negligent? Do you see the cyclical argument there? You should. This is essentially what happened in Class Action.

3. The I'm-An-Asshole-Principle of No Duty To Rescue:

Let's pretend you are drowning in a river and I come across the bridge. There is a rope that I could throw to you and easily rescue you. You say "Please save me kind stranger." I say, "Make me. Free country." Why don't I just save you? I don't have to. There are several states that have passed statutes contrary to this rule, but the vast majority of states give us the right to choose not to help our fellow man. Oh, and be a world-class asshole.

4. The Don't-Incapacitate-or-Harass-Bill Gates-Rule:

Say I'm Bill Gates' boss at Microsoft. Humor for me and pretend that such a position exists. I begin to come-on to him, touching his inner thigh while he speaks at press conferences, whispering bitter somethings in his ear during lunch break. After being subjected to this sexual harassment, he quits. If Bill Gates can't get a job anywhere else in the industry because people are sick of his aggressive strategies to protect Microsoft's master code and freeze out his competition, he takes a job that he loves as a park ranger. (I honestly think that deep down most of us want to be park rangers). There's a good chance I'll be compensating him for "front pay" for a large number of years. Front pay is the difference he would have earned at Microsoft and his current job. Since this figure is approximately infinity, it is presumed that he will never recover the full judgment from anyone but himself.

5. The Supreme Court Exception in New York:

This isn't really a rule but I thought I'd include it anyway. In nearly all the states, the Supreme Court is the highest court in the system. New York is a notable exception; its highest court is the Court of Appeals. You will hear this fact no less than 50 times during the first week of law school.

Dumping is What I Do When I'm Called On in Class

So, as an English Lit. major embarking on a business heavy profession, there are times that the learning curve seems embarrassingly steep. I might have to start boning up.

Case in point:

Today, while I was attending a lecture on international law that offered free pizza, Mr. X described how the DNA/gene manufacturing firm that he counsels had been served notice of a complaint. Though his company is headquartered in the U.S., it has offices in Sweden as well. The complaint, filed in Sweden, alleged that his company had committed the crime of dumping.

At this point Mr. X looked at the people in attendance (roughly seven of us), and said, "You all know what dumping is right?" I immediately pictured a large dump truck emptying greenish ooze into a river populated by three-eyed fish. "Let me put it a different way, does anyone NOT know what dumping is?" he continued.

Me to self-- this seems like a trick question. Should I raise my hand, thereby verifying my green ooze hypothesis, or nod knowingly, thereby blending in with the rest of my knowledgeable peers? Surely if my conception is flawed, this flaw will be rectified by the speaker in a matter of moments with no loss of credibility to myself. The hand stays down.

"Ok then," Mr. X continues, "who can explain it to me?"

Uh oh. He looks in my direction. I quickly look away but he finds my patent avoidance of eye contact suspicious. He points at me "Go ahead."

Me: "Well, I guess when you dispose of materials in ways that you shouldn't."

Mr. X: "No. Wrong," he says. He then launches into a lengthy explanation of why it is so much easier to correct law students than undergraduates. Undergraduates are weak and take it personally, law students are resilient and indifferent to criticism, he explains. I laugh heartily and wipe away a tear forming in the corner of my eye. Surely now, after I have failed him, an explanation of dumping will be forthcoming.

Mr. X: "Suppose you are accusing me of dumping in your country, what am I doing?"

Me? Again? Really? His eyes are on me again. I quickly file through the definitions of dumping I am familiar with. There's the green ooze theory previously posited. That's not right. I'm only familiar with one other meaning of the word dumping, and I'm fairly sure that offering that explanation would not be appropriate in this context.

Me to self: time is ticking. . . think think think. . . use law words.

Me-- "I'm accusing you of infringing on some kind of property interest that I'm claiming?"

Mr. X: "This is what I love about lawyers, when they don't know, they still try to make things up."

Bingo. Not just lawyers though. Before I was in law school I was a liar too.

He then asks if anyone else can explain this concept. The hands of the six others in attendance shoot-up in unison, as if a kindergarten teacher had asked the students what their favorite color was. Have you no shame?

(Note: to extend this analogy, when the teacher asked me what my favorite color was, I replied: "motorcycle.")

The answer, which I will never, ever forget for the rest of my life? Basically predatory pricing.

Here is the Wikipedia definition of dumping under the entry "dumping (pricing policy)":

"In economics, "dumping" can refer to any kind of predatory pricing. However, the word is now generally used only in the context of international trade law, where dumping is defined as the act of a manufacturer in one country exporting a product to another country at a price which is either below the price it charges in its home market or is below its costs of production."

In my defense, Mr. X didn't actually say "What is dumping in an economic sense?" If this were the case, I probably would have pieced it together. Now that it's been explained, I admit that I've seen and heard of "dumping" used in this context before, though I've never studied the topic in any kind of formal sense.

Also in my defense, there is another entry right under "dumping (pricing policy)" entitled: "environmental dumping." Here is the definition in Wikipedia for evironmental Dumping:

Environmental dumping is the practice of transfrontier shipment of waste (household waste, industrial/nuclear waste, etc.) from one country to another. The goal is to take the waste to a country that has less strict environmental laws, or environmental laws that are not strictly enforced.

In this context, it's not so outrageous that a biotech company that specializes in creating DNA could get into trouble for environmental dumping.

There are all sorts of problems involved in GM foods contaminating the fields of others; do these same kind of problems happen in the biotech industry? Doesn't seem likely, but I really wouldn't know.

Anyway, the story ends with the biotech company losing millions of dollars in pointless litigation even though the claims were scandalously weak and indefensible. Eventually, the firm raised its prices in a "price undertaking," a kind of settlement under the WTO, and was allowed to remain in Sweden.

All in all a very well told story with lots of suspense and quite a bit of information about the often confusing and labyrinthine international system of adjudication. It even had a tidy little moral at the end that I thin we can all learn a little something from:

"Even if you don't shit on a foreign market, you might get accused of dumping."

5 Interesting Legal Principles That I've Learned in My First Year of Law School: Part 1 of a Series

Disclaimer: I hope it is clear that these legal principles, being both hazily remembered and heavily embellished, are in no way to be taken as legal advice --

1. The Goonies Rule—“Finders Law” is kind of complicated. For example, if you find property that’s “lost” or “abandoned” you usually get to keep it. However, if you find property that’s “mislaid” then it usually goes to the owner of the premises where you found it. There are other fairly arbitrary distinctions that are sometimes clear and sometimes not. The one rule that IS clear? If you find a “treasure trove,” it’s yours. Keep it. No questions asked. Roll in it, toss the gold coins up and let them rain down on you, whatever you want. A treasure trove in the case book that I use describes a treasure trove as this: “ANY GOLD OR SILVER IN COIN, PLATE, OR BULLION FOUND CONCEALED IN THE EARTH OR IN A HOUSE OR OTHER PRIVATE PLACE.” This rule is apparently founded on the principle that all of use think that at some point in our lives we’re going to find a treasure map in the attic and then follow it to all sorts of pirate treasure.

2. The G.W. Bush rule/preemption rule—If you REASONABLY BELIEVE someone is going to attack you can use reasonable force to protect yourself. You can’t, however, use lethal force or force that is not commensurate to the threat. Maybe this shouldn’t be called the G.W. Bush rule. An addition to this rule is the imminence rule. Here is a brief illustration of this rule: Saddam and George are drinking a bar. If Saddam says to George “I will beat you up tomorrow,” George cannot beat up Saddam today to prevent tomorrow’s attack, unless it appears that here will be now way for George to defend himself tomorrow.

3. Take the money and run principle—after guy found 17,000 dollars in the wing of an airplane he told his supervisor and eventually lost the (probably drug) money to the owner of the premises because it was judged to be “mislaid.” As per above, if it would have been classified as “lost or abandoned,” the finder would have kept it. The motto of this story: Never, ever tell anyone when you find $17,000 in a fucking airplane wing.

4. The Ewok net rule—This is similar to the G.W. Bush rule. You can’t protect empty property with lethal force. A guy in IA owned an abandoned house in which he kept mason jars. There had been a theft (or maybe just thefts in the area, I can’t remember), so he did what all of us what have done: he rigged up a shotgun to the door handle and pointed it at about knee high. This way, he could make sure to forever alter the life of any wayward criminal or cute, adventurous child who happened to wander into the abandoned home. When Mr. Bush league criminal came by to cash in on that sweet mason jar collection, the gun took out his legs and severely injured him. The court ruled that lethal force cannot be used to protect unoccupied property and suggested that he buy the same kind of nets that the Ewoks in star wars used, noting that they were both humane and durable (this didn’t really happen). The spring gunner’s response “I wish I would have aimed higher.” (This REALLY DID happen). Oh, my sweet, sweet mason jars.

5. The Princess Bride Rule—a thief with prior possession of a piece of property has rights over different thief who tries to relieve him of it. Remember that part in the Princess Bride when Sicilian Evil Mastermind Wallace Shawn is running off with a discombobulated but resilient Robin Wright? And then Dred Pirate Roberts starts chasing them and Sicilian Evil Mastermind Wallace Shawn says “he’s tyring to kidnap what I’ve rightfully stolen.” Well, he’s kind of right. You can’t do that. In absence of the “true owner” prior possession prevails, even if it is a thief who has stolen something. Since Shawn had possession of the Princess before Dred Pirate Roberts, he wins. (Note: this is only applicable if women are considered “chattel.”) (Note #2: It is my understanding that Wallace Shawn used to make his home in Iowa City. Please feel free to disabuse me of this notion).

Recap of the Week in Iowa City

Three really cool things happened this week in Iowa City:

1. Robert F. Kennedy Jr. came to the law school to talk about environmental issues and being stalked by a man in a ten gallon hat.

2. Madeline Albright came to speak to us about her diplomatic experiences and why she's supporting Hillary Clinton.

3. Free donuts were given out by my contracts professor at a make-up class.

I will discuss these events in reverse order. Incidentally, this also happens to be the order of importance:

1. Mmmm. Donuts

2. Robert F. Kennedy: A review in the present tense.

It is Sept. 12^th at 4:30 in the afternoon. His voice raspy, a weary RFK Jr. takes the stand and begins to speak. He is sorry, he says, that his voice is so weak, but earlier this morning he presented opening arguments for a case in West Virginia.

This morning. He says it nonchalantly, as if we, fellow members of the legal community, have commitments that are similarly taxing and thus can commiserate.

I think back to my activities of the morning: eating bran flakes, dressing myself, walking to school, realizing that I have forgotten a book, walking home, retrieving said book, writing emails, doing a crossword. I look down in shame and self loathing as I realize that my morning included exactly zero minutes of world saving litigation.

Kennedy 1, Gregory 0

After his humble apologies, he begins his spiel. Corporations are polluting, there are all sorts of great rules on the books to prevent this kind of pollution, but enforcement is lacking.

He then mentions what I consider to be the most interesting part of the discussion: the bounty provision. The provision was contained in a musty old 19^th century statute and provides private citizens the right to bring charges against polluters and reap half of the fines. In short, the bounty provision makes each and every one of us as powerful as U.S. Attorneys in enforcing these laws (even MORE powerful in some ways, considering that Alberto Gonzalez can’t whimsically dismiss us). I instantly feel empowered.

The effect of this rule has been astonishing, he says. Since Kennedy’s organization, the Hudson River keepers, began, they have brought 400 successful cases and recovered more than 4 billion dollars from polluting companies. The umbrella organization, the Water keeper Alliance, is the fastest growing environmental organization in North America.

He speaks of the corruption fueled ascendancy of the factory hog farm that took off in N.C. and how a broken media has refused to inform the world of the consequences of this high pollution industry. He issues the standard (and true) argument that TV makes no money from labor intensive news coverage and therefore has no incentive to produce it, opting instead for cheap celebrity gossip or football player trials coverage (John Deeth from Iowa City, a blogger with real coverage, covered this aspect of his 7:30 IMU speech very well). He notes to us: “we are the most entertained and least informed people on Earth.”

When I get home a news channel is dedicating its coverage for the hour to the Kathy Griffin Geebus comments.

I look down at my crossword and wonder: isn’t there some litigating I could be doing somewhere?

3. Madeleine Albright stumping for Hillary: A review in the past tense.

First things first. I read on Wikipedia before the event that Madeleine Albright can leg press 400 pounds. For reasons still unclear to me, this was not mentioned during the informal discussion.

Many other things were mentioned, however, as Dr. Albright sat and spoke with UI Law Professor Christopher Rossi for approximately 20 minutes before she took questions from the audience.

The topics covered the areas that one would generally expect: Iraq quagmire, needless squandering of international goodwill, Dubya policy slams, international cooperation and humility, etc.

At one point she read a beautiful passage from her book about the United States role internationally and drew a deservedly lengthy applause from the audience.

That America has some serious foreign policy challenges ahead of it was indisputable. The argument that these challenges would somehow be most thoroughly attended to by a Clinton presidency was not so clear. I think this was evident in the questions.

My favorite question of the evening came from a man in the back. It came almost directly after Dr. Albright had (as she has in the past) categorized Iraq as being a worse foreign policy disaster than Vietnam.

He wanted to know how Dr. Albright thought that his first two choices, Bill Richardson and Barack Obama, compare to Hillary in terms of foreign policy decision making ability and/or experience. He noted (always plug your candidates) that Richardson was her successor as Ambassador to the U.N., resisted the war from the start as governor, and ran for re-election in 2002 while maintaining this resistance. Obama, for his part, also resisted and spoke eloquently about the dangerous nature of the war, and ran for a seat in the U.S. Senate, blowing everyone out of the water in 2004. (By the way, at 70%, Obama won with the highest vote for a statewide office in ILLINOIS HISTORY. He’s THAT good).

The response?

Dr. Albright said proudly that she wasn’t going to criticize any of the other candidates, which drew a large round of applause. I found this odd, because he didn’t ask her to criticize the others, he asked her to compare Hillary to them. We don’t have to operate outside the bonds of politesse in order to compare the candidates on their relative merits. How else are we expected to make a rational decision? Isn’t this what they’re asking us to do?

She mentions that the others didn’t have to register a vote on the war, and that Senate vote was actually a nice political play until Bush screwed it up. She then intimates that she knows Hillary extremely well and is sure she would do an excellent job in her capacity as the shaper of our national policy. I agree. But there is nothing that she has said that would lead me to believe that she would do a MORE excellent job than others. This is what we are here for.

As an Obama supporter, I wondered how many people around me were actual card-signing Clinton supporters and how many had just showed up to hear the thoughts of one of our most respected foreign policy experts.

The two girls next to me both admitted to being Obama supporters, and a fellow law student that I ran into was also backing “the Bomb.” So, based on my COMPLETELY SCIENTIFIC AND UTTERLY INFALLIBLE statistical analysis: 100 % OF THE PEOPLE IN THE AUDIENCE WERE OBAMA SUPPORTERS, while at least half of the people (1/2) on the stage were.

Other noteworthy stuff:

Funniest comment by our speaker: Dr. Albright claimed that she invented a new strategy called “conference call diplomacy.” Adding that it was probably a kind of “girl thing,” that she brought to her role. I love it.

Most tragic moment: John Deeth, Iowa City blogger and professional journalist, couldn’t access the UI wireless and thus, couldn’t live blog the event. Let it be noted that Cornucopia, the Horn of Plenty sympathizes with his cause and feels that journalists and bloggers should be allowed access to UI wireless in order to cover events sponsored by the U of I.

Gay Marriage and an AWESOME Defensive Line: Why the Hawkeye State is Getting Better Every Year

I found this past weekend in Iowa City to be especially inspiring for exactly two reasons:

Reason number one: The Hawkeye football team manhandled Syracuse.

Remember last year when it took a herculean goal line stand to defeat a bad Syracuse team? This year there was never any doubt. We didn’t dominate ANY team last year the way we dominated Syracuse yesterday. Christensen looked good and the d-line limited the Orangemen to 24 rushing yards on 30 attempts. Brian Mattison expressed disappointment when he learned that Syracuse had accumulated 1 total yard on offense in the first half, apparently finding it to be 1 yard too many.

I like his style.

Reason number two: Iowa might just be the next gay marriage state.

Readers of this blog will have noted that a few days ago, I posted to a link in the Daily Iowan about Judge Robert Hansen’s ruling on the unconstitutionality of the Iowa law banning gay marriages. The ruling was stayed and the case kicked up to the Iowa Supreme Court to dispose of.

A quick sidenote: Iowa actually has a kind of peculiar appellate process. Though an appeal in most states would go to an intermediate appellate court before eventually being appealed to the state’s Supreme Court, in Iowa a case is appealed directly to the Supreme Court. The Court then decides whether to hear the case or send it to the intermediate court of appeals. A slight twist, but noteworthy, and it means that in this case the Iowa Supreme Court gets the next crack at it.

Which got me to wondering: how is the Supreme Court going to handle this case? As of last week, I knew very little about the make-up of our court. Ironically, I was, like many casual followers of public policy, much more familiar with the characters and temperaments that make the U.S. Supreme Court than those that make up my home state’s highest court. Anyone who reads any daily newspaper is vaguely familiar with the narrative: uncompromising textualist Scalia, liberal stalwart Ginsburg, Anthony “the swingman” Kennedy, etc.

I did some quick research and learned that three of the justices—Chief Justice Marsha K. Ternus, Jerry Larson, an Mark Cady—are Republican appointees, and four—Michael Streit, David Wiggins, Daryl Hecht, and Brent Appel, are Democratic appointees.

What does this mean? I have no idea. Even in the Democratic party there is pretty large divide among those who support and those who don’t support gay marriage. This is highlighted by statements from a guy named Chet who runs this state making comments explicitly denouncing gay marriage. Sigh. Politicians will be politicians.

Then there’s the further complication of governors crossing party lines to make appointments. For example, former Chief Justice Luis Lavorato, my new hero, was a lifelong Democrat but was appointed by two Republican governors to get to the highest court. So analysis of this kind is inherently suspect.

We can also look at the kind of treatment that the court has given cases like this in the past. The only time that the court has dealt with anything like this, as far as I can tell, was when they dissolved a gay civil union for a couple who had been united in VT a couple years back. A bunch of right wingers led by the frothy mouthed Steve King appealed and said that the Iowa Supreme court didn’t have jurisdiction to make this kind of decision. At which point the Supreme Court quietly assured him that they did, gave him a pat on the rear, and sent him on his merry way with directions mind his own business.

So, I wanted to get a handle on this situation. I wanted to have at least some kind of thoughtful, informed speculation other than state 29’s brief and dismissive commentary of how these justices are going to handle this case.

Enter Supreme Court day at the University of Iowa. Last Friday 6 of the 7 justices made the two hour trip Iowa City to hear a fake case argued by some of our students. Marsha K. Ternus was unable to attend, but was replaced by the venerable former Chief Justice Luis Lavorato.

Following the arguments, students who were interested were invited to dinner at faculty homes to dine with a justice. The justice that we were assigned? None other than the aforementioned Louis Lavorato.

Who better to give me an idea of how the Supreme Court was going to treat this question than someone who not only had worked with the majority of the justices, but also someone who was no longer ON the court and thus, in theory at least, could speak freely.

Justice Lavorato’s response to my question was both candid and comforting. After a brief discussion of the kind of language used in the Iowa Constitution and the personnel currently sitting on the bench, he made his prediction: he thinks that the Supreme Court is going to uphold Justice Robert Hanson’s ruling.

Let the champagne flow.

Kind of.

Obviously it was just an educated guess, and he made it clear that the issue could revolve around one swing vote. But even assuming that his guess is right, there’s still the question of amending the constitution of Iowa. As far as I can tell, doing this actually isn’t that hard. At least not nearly as hard as amending our federal constitution. First the legislature needs to pass the amendment with a majority vote in two consecutive years. Then the amendment gets put on the ballot and submitted to the general public for another straight majority vote (if I’m wrong about this please feel free to correct me). If that was the case, that would still mean two years of unfettered gay marriage before the constitutional amendment would even be on the ballot.

Even then, I’m not so sure 50% of Iowans would vote for it. Maybe I just have too much faith in Iowans as reasonable humans (crazyman Steve King did get 59% last year), but the idea that 50% of the population would vote in favor of an amendment to restrict the rights of our citizens strikes me as improbable.

But I’m probably getting a bit ahead of myself. First, the Supreme Court needs to uphold the ruling, then we can worry about any kind of campaign to change the constitution. In the meantime, there should be plenty of time to sip on that champagne.

Cheers. . . to a world that, like a defensive line on a college football team, has the potential to get a little better every year. Go Hawks.

1 Credit Down, 89 To Go. . . Why I'm Itching to Succeed in Law School

During orientation, we take a 1 credit test at the end of the week which our 2nd and 3rd year peers tell us repeatedly not to worry about. It is a pass fail test designed to give you an idea of what law exams will be like and how to adequately prepare for them. Rumor has it that no one has ever failed.

The test began with a multiple choice section of 20 questions, which gave me and idea.

Since this is mostly a charade anyway, and it's in EVERYONE'S best interest that we pass, I think a better way to conduct this sort of test would be as follows: a REAL game of 20 questions wherein the professor plays his students for all the marbles.

If the class gets the rule, concept, principle, or statute that the professor has written on a piece of paper in less than 20 yes/no questions, the class passes. If the students exhaust all 20 questions without correctly identifying the person, place, or thing written on the piece of paper, the class fails (with the option to try again and again until they eventually pass).

Here's what something like that would look like:

First student (looking confused): Is it a judicial precedent?

Prof (at front of class smiling mischievously): No. Think broader

Second student: Did we discuss it within the second HALF of the class?

Prof. : Yes.

Third student--Is it a place?

Prof. -- No. It is NOT a place.

Fourth student-- Is it bigger than a breadbox?

Prof. -- I don't think so

Fifth student-- Is it the substantive canon of statutory construction?

Prof.-- It IS the substantive canon of statutory construction. You all pass. Have a great weekend.

Though our class won’t be able to take advantage of a test like this, I strongly recommend it for next year’s incoming class. If the administration is looking for ways to implement this new educational strategy, please contact me privately.

The actual test was quite a bit different. The multiple choice was fine, but on the essay I made several major errors that may affect my grade (which means nothing because it was pass/fail). First, we were not to single space our writing or write on the front and back of pages in our blue book.

I did both. Doh.

Second, our professor had mentioned that that he prefers pens to pencils on tests. I used pencil. If there is a question where my professor needs to give me the “benefit of the doubt,” I won’t hold my breath.

When I was teaching English in Cameroon, the students who typically got the benefit of the doubt were those that weren’t jerks on the basketball court. I have made my bed and now I must lie in it.

But, despite the errors, all in all I feel like I did pretty well. All of the little circles were filled in and my writing seemed to flow effortlessly onto the page. And that's all pretty impressive considering I was reeling in pain with poison ivy during the entire thing. Yes, poison ivy.

The itch is unbearable, and now my arms have this weird pinkish-white (poison ivory?) residue all over because of the calamine lotion that I’ve been forced to slather myself in to stop the pain.

Why did God choose to smite ME with these horribly painful rashes? Believe it or not, I’m pretty sure that it was for doing an incredibly good act, which I guess is some kind of weird reverse Karma and the only way that He has to remind us of all those mysterious ways He works in. If I would have say, found a 100 dollar bill after doing a good thing, I would have said something like “God sure does work in straight-forward and uncomplicated ways,” which would clearly be contrary to what He wants.

The incredibly good thing that I was doing when I acquired the poison ivy was cleaning up a creek, which fulfilled the civic engagement portion of law school orientation week. It was my job to clear the brush, weeds, and litter from the ivy filled banks and put it all in a big pile to be carted away at a later day.

It was my own fault. The guide had explicitly said “wear a long sleeve shirt,” a recommendation that I cockily discarded as a paranoid warning for my weak-skinned comrades. Just like that recommendation on the test that said “double space your writing.”

I will never disregard another written recommendation again.