Another Laundry First

Yesterday I was doing my laundry. I was keeping a wary eye on the homeless guys smoking drugs in the bathroom (and here, I'm not exaggerating), when I was approached by a little girl maybe two years old at the oldest. I had seen her running around with her family and speaking spanish the whole time.

She walked up to me, tugged on my sleeve, and said "Hola, papa."

Even though I'm pretty certain I haven't fathered any illegitimate Mexican children, it was still kind of weird.

Lame

Last night, I was up until two doing something awesome and I fell asleep in a haze of exhaustion. I woke up about 4:30 a.m. with my light on and my tax statute book open in front of me. Apparently my sleepwalking self had nothing better to do than peruse the Internal Revenue Code.

I'm trying valiently to find a place to live in [Vice President Utah's undisclosed location] but things are becoming difficult due to the inability of landlords to return my phone calls. You would think that a basic sense of salesmanship should compel someone to try to fill the rental vacancies they have, but it seems that it's easier to take a tax loss.

The fact that I'm leaving for quasi-good struck me hard the other day and I began to think of the things that I wish I had more time to do here...start a write-in campaign to elect Chuck Norris coroner, gallop a horse through the law library, and find a decent place to get donuts. The truth is, even though I didn't do everything I hoped to in this place, in three years I really only have two regrets. "Regret" is a powerful word that I try not to invoke unless I really mean it...much like "love," "hate," or "badass." It's not merely an acknowledgment of a mistake: a regret implies that given the chance and a time-traveling Delorian, you would go back and change history altogether. And I'm not talking about large-scale history changes, like Terminator, Heroes, and Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure; I'm talking about individualized history changes, like Marty McFly in Back to the Future, and Paul Walker with his masterful performance in Timeline (you really believe he's a time traveller; just like in Varsity Blues you really believe he's the quarterback of a high school football team and not some 30 year old guy).

But I digress. The fact that I've watched alot of badass time travel movies doesn't really address the true nature of a regret. A regret is only realized in a true sense of immutable change that makes the act or omission irrevocable. For example, after three years of law school, I'm irrevocably an asshole. Don't get me wrong, I have no regrets about that.

The combination of nothing to do and a generalized absence of social interactions has left me with alot of time to ponder my past, present and future. However, I know that if I don't spend my last moments as a Madison resident with the people I know I'll miss, I'll have a third regret to add to the list. Realizing that now is history in action. We can all be the change. And that's my quasi-serious reflection for the month.

Reflections on Bears

I'm a sucker for stories about bears, and I always read the space news, so I was amused with this one here:

http://news.yahoo.com/s/livescience/20070518/sc_livescience/astronautsgetatipfromhibernatingbears

Yesterday, two separate people told me that I would end up defending someone who gratifies himself (sexually) with a bear...I'm kind of looking forward to that case.

In unrelated news, I have officially changed my adventurer/explorer name to Flint Blitz.

The Final Battle

Mr. Vice recently prophesized that the raccoon would come back to strike. He's never been wrong in the past when it comes to animal super-villains, and now I fear the prophecy has come true. I'm cowering in my bedroom, listening to the sound of a larger clawed animal scurrying about in my ceiling. Not roof. Ceiling. The scary shit is I don't have a nice plaster and wood ceiling shielding me against the raccoon enemy like I did at the old place. This one has standard ceiling tiles and I can hear the motherfucker chewing and clawing. There is a very real chance
that a gigantic raccoon will come crashing down on me while I sleep.

We all know this is a sequal, and from what we know about sequals, nobody is safe. Jason Vorheis, Michael Meyers, and Freddy Krueger all killed off heroes from the previous movies in sequals. In Final Destination II, death caught up with the heroic Ali Larter and knocked her off. In Back to the Future II, Biff killed George McFly. In Rocky II, Rocky Balboa knocked out Apollo Creed. I fear Death stalks me now, and if I die, some lesser actor will have to finish dealing with evil in my absence. Probably Freddy Prinze Jr. I swear, if he gets the movie babe I earned at the end of the first movie because I'm dead, I'll come back and haunt his ass good.

Meanwhile, I have to get up at 6 every morning this week for job training that lasts most of the day. There's someone there with a real life name of "Carl Johnson." Don't worry, I already alienated myself and asked if he was named after the character in GTA San Andreas. However, I know that people are finishing up with finals and I want to cram some hanging out in during the evenings before people depart for the real world (if I'm not dead from raccoon-related injuries).

My Favorite Predator Moments

I got into one of my frequent Quentin Tarantino discussions the other day and reiterated my dislike of From Dusk till Dawn. The first half of that movie was great as a crime flick...breaking out of prison, killing people, kidnapping hostages and skipping off to Mexico. Then the vampires show up. That's where the movie lost me.

My awkward take on the above movie makes it kind of hard to reconcile my love of the movie Predator. Afterall, it's kind of the same chain of events...special forces team goes on black op, kills a bunch of enemies, makes badass comments about the deaths. Then the alien shows up. However, in my opinion, Predator is an infinitely awesome movie. I have no cogent theory to distinguish it from From Dusk till Dawn, so I'll just give you my top five favorite moments from this fantastic movie.

5. Dutch's final battle with the Predator. We all knew he was going to win, but Arnold really went all out with his ingenuity, building traps, covering himself with mud to shield his infrared signature, and displaying classic Schwarzenegger acting skills when he kicked Predator's ass.

4. Dillon and Arnold flex. Of all the badass greeting scenes in all of the movies ever made, this has to rank near the top. What better way to greet someone than to shake hands in a quasi-armwrestling hold for twenty seconds and show the world how jacked your biceps are. From that point forward in the movie, you knew there would be some ass kicking.

3. Wasting the Communists. The first fight of the movie was against a conventional group of terrorists (non-Americans), and Dutch's team moved in to kick ass in an unprecedented display of badassedry. Dutch charges into the hut (after destroying a door and saying "knock knock"), throws a knife through a bad guy's heart and pins him to the wall. Dutch then exits the hut, but not before he says "stick around." Blain (Jesse Ventura) gets skimmed by a bullet and his buddy shows some concern and one of the greatest lines ever ensues: "You're hit man, you're bleeding." [Blain] "I ain't got time to bleed." I think that line alone got him elected governor.

2. The Helicopter Scene. If you were going into combat on a black op without any possibility of backup, I can think of no better way to get pumped than to blast some Little Richard, put on facepaint, and spew tobacco all over the helicopter. Blain can be credited with his other great line of the movie in the helicopter, as well as Hawkins' joke. Decorum prohibits me from repeating them here, but trust me, it was badass.

1. The Gun Scene. Originally filmed as a joke, after viewing the footage, the director insisted on inserting this scene into the movie. Basically, the team catches a glimpse of the Predator running into the jungle after it killed Blain. Everyone opens fire and literally deforests acres of jungle with their bullets. It was a pure two minutes of gunfire, and badass shouts as the crew emptied their weapons into the jungle.

Clearly, we all know the reason why Predator has produced more governors than any other movie...much like the SNL prediction, I fully expect to see Carl Weathers become governor within the next few years. It would be foolish not to be recognized for his contributions to Predator.

Fin

Thus ends law school!

Here we are, in a room full of strangers

So last night I'm reviewing a paper and I get a phone call from my roommate on the other side of Wisconsin. "Turn on channel 8," he says. Certain that I would be turning on a program about somebody with a really gross birth deformity, I flipped it on. The station was playing American Idol.

Now, I pride myself on only watching good quality TV. I had never watched more than two minutes of American Idol, and I demanded a compelling purpose for the atrocity burning on my television screen. "Just watch," the roommate responded.

Watch I did, and I saw the reason for the hype. The contestants were being mentored by none other than Mr. Barry Alan Crompton Gibb, the greatest thing ever to happen to music, politics, and the world. I was disappointed that the contestants chose to butcher songs by the great Barry when they did not sing in his signature falsetto...assholes! Also, it was weird to see Barry with so much gray hair, but I guess even Jesus would have grayed if he got to be Barry's age. Although the contests tried mightily to sing "to love somebody," "Stayin Alive," and "How do you mend a broken heart," they all flopped in my book. This just serves as a reminder to everyone out there that the only good decade this world has ever experienced was the 1970's. Now that I've wasted a good twenty minutes, back to Bus Orgs...you know, the UPA was last revised around the time Jive Talkin was a hit...

The great man himself.

This isn't the Hilton

A California judge revoked Paris Hilton's probation today after being caught driving without a license. Hilton had been sentenced to three years probation for operating while intoxicated and the sentencing judge informed her that her license had been revoked. Additionally, a police officer stopped Hilton a month later and informed her not to drive again on a revoked license.

Nevertheless, Hilton insisted that "she didn't know," and had a "right" to rely on her publicist's declaration that she was allowed to drive to work-related events. At the sentencing, the judge sentenced Paris to 45 days in jail, citing her open defiance of several court orders. After sentence was imposed, Hilton's mother Kathy yelled "you're pathetic!" to the prosecutor and stormed out of the courtroom. Hilton's attorneys insist that she was only prosecuted and sentenced to jail due to her celebrity status.

I, on the other hand, think this is funny as hell. Turns out Paris isn't above the law afterall.

Done

I just walked out of my last class ever. It seems like yesterday that I was stumbling into my first law school class at 7:45 a.m.: Legal Writing. I remember the awe I felt as I sat in the second row of seats in 5240, blinded from the shimmering glow of Bob Kasieta's gold cufflinks, thinking that a dream had come true.

Boy was I stupid. Three years later, I still really don't know anything, but I can fake my ignorance much better. In fact, I think I only really learned a few important lessons:

1. Read the statute
2. Indonesia
3. 12(b)(6), hack, cough, hawking phlegm
4. Nothing in law or life beats having a very high basis
5. It's far more sanitory to live inside of a dumpster for a week than it is to look at the law school men's room
6. Drink lots and often
7. Seasons 1-4 of the O.C.
8. Pass fail a class every semester you can
9. If someone is in law school, the burden is on them to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that they are NOT a douchebag

So there you have it, three years of knowledge. I want my money back.

The Ultimate Sentence

So Gollum shot down my idea for a sentencing paper. Primarily because I chose the idea as a means to do an extremely half-assed job and do no research. Instead, I've chosen a new topic which I'm certain will be a pain in the ass with extreme prejudice.

However, I'm supremely tempted to discuss a difficult sentencing. I would like to advocate for Carmen Sandiego: world thief, leader of the organized crime syndicate V.I.L.E. and employer of thugs such as Kneemoi, Vic the Slick, Patty Larceny, and Eartha Brute. She has been convicted of stealing the Eiffle Tower, Mt. Rushmore, and Santa's Reindeer.




Your honor, the defendant, by counsel Johnny Utah moves the court for a sentence of modified probation

Gallion and McCleary mandate that a Circuit Court consider three primary objectives when sentencing an offender. (1) Punishment, (2) Public Safety, and (3) Specific and general deterrence. Of Course, Gallion specifies that probation is always the most appropriate alternative, if it can be executed safely.

Ms. Sandiego is clearly a sophisticated criminal, the leader of V.I.L.E. and accustomed to manipulating anyone in her path to obtain world capitals and natural landmarks. However, the shock value of her crimes should not translate to an emotional imprisonment. Principally, the Court needs to consider the public safety that would result from imprisoning Ms. Sandiego. Of course, while incarcerated, Ms. Sandiego could not commit any new thefts. However, far less intrusive means of incapacitation are available in this case that would serve valuable rehabilitative and deterrent purposes.

That is why the Court suggests that Ms. Sandiego be sentenced to ten years of probation, with specific conditions. As noted in the Pre-Sentence Investigation Report, Ms. Sandiego suffers from a long-term addiction to methamphetamine for which she has not sought significant treatment. The state pschologist noted that Ms. Sandiego's drug abuse began shortly after leaving her home at the age of twelve after her father told her she would never see the pyramids of Egypt. Then he beat her up.

A six-month inpatient treatment program will effectively incapacitate Ms. Sandiego and treat the source problems of her world monument-concentrated cleptomania. Upon release, Ms. Sandiego will surrender her passport and begin a strict schedule of community service. Although discretion should be left to the Office of Probation Services, this Honorable Court might recommend that Ms. Sandiego speak weekly to school children about the dangers of using science to steal the Colliseum.

Although the state argues that this is a perfect case for specific deterrence, we respectfully disagree. Ms. Sandiego was once the leader of V.I.L.E., but His Honor can quickly take judicial notice of the potential monument thieves congregating in poor sections of the world, eager to take her place in the criminal market. Unlike the state's absurd allegations, imprisoning Ms. Sandiago will do nothing to prevent the future theft of Pittsburg.

Finally, Ms. Sandiego agrees to pay restitution to the nations she stole monuments from. The plea agreement stipulates read in offenses for Buckingham Palace and the Grand Canyon. However, we never Arkansas her steal the rainforest or the jungle. Since his honor is a learned scholar of the law, Ms. Sandiego is confident he will see the wisdom in adopting her sentencing plan.

As Ms. Sandiego is attractive for a fictional cartoon villian, I hereby withdraw from representation, in order to prevent a conflict of interest.

Respectfully submitted,

Johnny Utah, esquire
Attorney, Counselor, and Badass at Law