Burgle Averted

Last night, I retired to an anticipated night of slumber around one in the morning. I had locked the doors, shut off the lights and anticipated dreaming about wild pumas running roughshod around Madison. At around three in the morning, I awoke to the telltale squeaking of the floorboards outside of my bedroom. Quickly, I ran down the mental list. My roommate was in Milwaukee for the night, the lights were off, and the upstairs neighbors had the tendency to leave the door to our shared balcony unlocked. I reached the only logical conclusion I could: A homeless person had climbed up to our balcony and walked into the negligently unlocked door with the intension of burglarizing me.

Needless to say, two thoughts came to mind. One, was I dreaming this? Two, if not, what to do? My half dragon/half robot guard creature is still in the experimental phase, so I knew that I would have to face any potential assailants on my own. After hearing the squeak again, I confirmed that I was not dreaming this and took stock of the situation. I grabbed my phone and dialed 9, then 1, and left the final one for once I'd confirmed the presence of an intruder. Then I equipped myself with the only weapon I have in my room: a pair of numchucks. Taking a deep breath, I charged from my room and bumrushed the back corner of my house. There was my roommate, shuffling through some of his crap strewn about the house. I demanded an explanation for almost having to kill him, and he said that he decided to come back early morning so he could haul more things out of our place to Milwaukee today. It's safe to say that while alarmed, I was relieved. Still, I think that had there been an actual burglary in progress, I would have been prepared to numchuck the shit out of the hapless homeless intruder who sought to steal my beer.

The Best Movie Trilogy Ever

Last week, some friends and I discussed the best and worst movie trilogies ever made. The general consensus was that Indiana Jones, the original Star Wars, and Back to the Future were in a close race for the best trilogies. Also discussed was the phenomenon that plagues the second movie in a trilogy as the worst one (i.e. Ocean's 12, Pirates II, Matrix Reloaded, and I hope to god that Fantastic Four II is the worst of the series). With some badass trilogies coming out this summer (Rush Hour III), I figured that I would start my own franchise of trilogy and ride the money train. Only my second movie will not suck. So without any more delay, I present to you the cast and storyline of Point Break II: The Breaking Point.

Cast:

Johnny Utah: Keanu Reeves
Bodhi: Patrick Swayze
Tyler Ann Endicott: Jessica Beil (I made the executive decision to swap Loren Petty with someone way hotter who doesn't remind me of A League of their Own).
Mario Pappas: (Twin brother of dead Angelo Pappas) Gary Busey
Special Agent Ben Harp: John McGinley
A.C. Slater: Mario Lopez

Plot:

1. The movie begins in the same manner as Rocky, with Utah telling the Australian SWAT team that Bodhi isn't coming back, and cuts to Utah throwing FBI badge in the ocean and walking away.
2. Utah walks into FBI office and Special Agent Harp fires him. Utah makes badass comment about the office exceeding the asshole quota. Storms off. Harp quits and changes name to Perry Cox.
3. Meets Tyler at home. She explains sudden hotness with "do you like my plastic surgery?"
4. Governor Schwarzenegger makes a cameo and forms the Surf Crimes unit, which Utah heads with Pappas' twin brother.
5. Cuts to Bodhi who was washed 800 miles in a tsunami to Malaysia. The Ronald Reagan mask washes up beside him. Bodhi puts on the mask, and surfs across the ocean to America while sinister music plays.
6. Utah is watching TV in his office...it's a show about a Great White fighting a Grizzly with explosions and lightening bolts everywhere. The show cuts to breaking news with Connie Chung who states that the U.S. bank in LA had been robbed by a surfer wearing a Reagan mask.
7. Utah and Pappas stake out a random bank in L.A. Utah goes to get meatball sandwiches and Pappas yells, "Hey Utah, get me two!" Unbeknownst to them, Bodhi is robbing the bank.
8. Badass car chase scene...they destroy property worth far more than the bank robbery loot.
9. Utah almost catches Bodhi, points gun, but cannot pull the trigger because they are blood brothers. Points gun in the air and fires off magazine while emitting a gutteral yell.
10. Action sequence with skydiving, pounding a liter of tequila, and playing beach football.
11. Utah corners Bodhi at a beach with huge tsunamis. The tsunamis alternate between regular tsunamis and Lord of the Rings style that look like galloping horses. Utah says "You gotta go down again, Bodhi." A fight ensues in the surf.
12. Bodhi begins to drown Utah then he lets go. Both look up and see the Silver Surfer drilling holes in the earth. Utah looks at Bodhi and says, "go, it is your destiny." Utah looks at the Human Torch and kills him with a badass overdose.
13. Bodhi gets on his surfboard and chases after the Silver Surfer. There is a huge fight scene where they fight while surfing the crest of the tsunami. Eventually, they punch each other so hard (at the same time) that both fly into space.
14. Camera cuts to space where Bodhi throws the Silver Surfer into the Sun. Galactus destroys France.
15. Back to Utah on Earth: He looks sadly at the Reagan mask in his hand because he realizes that Bodhi had some good in him. Utah looks upwards and sees that the stars had realigned into a constellation that looked exactly like Bodhi's face. AC Slater appears and high-fives Utah.
16. Screen fades to black and the words "The end" appear...after a few seconds, "?" appears and we see Bodhi plunging into the ocean, unhurt.
17. Cut to credits and play Ratt: Nobody Rides for Free

If this movie doesn't win the Oscar for best movie ever made, then just wait for the third in the Point Break trilogy.

Check out the original trailer for Point Break, featuring Reeves, Swayze, Busey and Dr. Cox. Now multiply it by about five hundred in anticipation of the badassedry that will ensue from the sequal.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d4-Fso2EZq8

That's all she wrote

Today I received a license to practice law in Wisconsin and can thus cause immeasurable destruction at my whim. Thus ends slightly more than three years of legal education and formally casts me out into the real world. It's been a good ride. I learned to work harder than I ever have before, discovered a profession I love, met some of the best friends I've ever had, and met a whole lot more that I consider to be unmitigated douchebags.

However, in the end, the good things far outweighed the bad and in this moment of nostalgia, I kind of wish that law school lasted four years. This was a period of transformation that I know turned me into a better person on all levels and I'm infinitely thankful that the UW sent that small-envelope acceptance letter and saved me from a life of mediocrity in the professional wolf wrestling circuit, middleweight division.

People make alot of jokes about lawyers being greedy, unsavory, obnoxious people. Regardless of how many Enron executives, Duke Lacrosse prosecutors and Howard K. Sterns tarnish the legal profession, I'll always be able to look on my friends and colleagues with eternal respect. We're a band of brothers, baptised in the Socratic Method, late nights at the library, a zillion legal writing revisions, borderline alcoholism and fire. I don't remember the fire, but I can only assume that a certain professor, (who I'll call "Cliff T." for privacy reasons), at one time lit us all on fire and then made us forget with an Indonesian amnesia potion. Man, that guy is a badass.

So as I march into the real world, power to destroy in hand, I have to think back on that very first morning, at 7:45...walking into a huge lecture hall for a legal writing introduction with a man whose ego more than filled the hall. I see a young, timid kid who was finally living the dream he's had since seventh grade. And in this memory that now seems ancient I know one thing: I'm a lawyer, and I could totally kick that kid's ass.

Godspeed.

If you're wondering, I'm posting this picture of Glen Mason because it is the only thing that can cheer me up after this monumentally bad day. For the record, I'm an idiot and apparently everyone else thinks so too.

NADOS!

I can't remember if I've ever taken the time to discuss the phenomenon known as the tornado (hereafter "nado") on this blog. We all live (those of us in Wisconsin anyways) in one of the most tornadically active areas on the planet and I have to admit, I always get a little excited when I see the thunderstorms coming in and hear the sirens go off. Severe storms are probably my greatest reminder that I'm not completely invulnerable to nature. And it pisses me off.

So needless to say, I was excited to hear from my brother who witnessed several nados last week during his stormchasing class. Before you scoff at the existence of this class, I should note that my brother is in graduate school for meteorology so it's not worthless, like the golf and Italian classes some law students take. Anyways, his sentiments of the tornado were much like my own: It's an amazing and beautiful event when the nado descends from the rotating wall cloud and reminds us all of the power of nature. Still, there appears to be nothing we can do to stop it. Unlike sharks, grizzlies, and Oprah, the nado cannot be kicked in the nuts. It's like a dong without the achilles heel of testicals...and that can be very dangerous; like Lance Armstrong.*

I'll readily admit that I've devoted much more time than reasonable to thinking about ways to stop the nado in its tracks. My most productive idea was blowing it up. Afterall, AMERICA has followed this theory for decades without a single instance of failure (see e.g. Afghanistan, Iraq, beached whales). My theory had something to do with changing the heat and pressure index inside the nado and having it evaporate into a rainbow. A badass rainbow. But I tossed that theory after seeing videos of tornados blow up gas stations and keep on trucking. So it's back to the drawing board.

In all seriousness, I only think nados are cool when they're not killing people and destroying shit. I've twice seen the devastation of the nado and it's truly astounding. Nados are like tigers: it's awesome when they roar and slash at wild animals, but it's only awesome when they stay in the woods. It's a different story when they posse up and take to the streets.

*DISCLAIMER: Yes, that was indeed a cheap shot I took at Lance Armstrong and I spent a considerable amount of time debating whether it was fit to print. But in a sordid, twisted way, I continued to find it funny after a five minute waiting period and decided to leave it. The fact is, Lance Armstrong is more accomplished in the average hour, than I have been in my entire life. I in no way mean to belittle his or anyone else's battle with cancer, life struggles, or wild boars. Jesus, if you're reading, please don't send me to hell.

Eye Doctor This [points to genitals]

I went in for my quasi-annual eye doctor appointment yesterday and was confronted by a gigantic dickhead who obviously thought alot of himself. My appointments have been quasi-annual, because the student health plan only allots limited vision benefits and I can't afford to pay for most of it out of pocket. But alas, the contact supply was almost depleted and I had to go in.

The optometrist asked me how often I changed my "monthly" contacts. Oh about every couple of months, I answered honestly. Then he launched into a lecture about how contacts were a prescription device, and if I didn't use them exactly as prescribed, I was abusing a drug...it was no different than abusing narcotics. I ignored the condescending speech for a moment. Then he told me that he needed to know my occupation for his medical records. I told him "lawyer." (Yes, I know I'm not officially a lawyer yet, but I got an adrenaline rush from the lie). This guy then had the nerve to tell me exactly why he hated all lawyers; particularly medical malpractice lawyers for always bringing "frivolous" lawsuits and criminal defense lawyers for getting all these guilty people off on technicalities. I reminded him that in some people's take on the law, those accused of a crime are presumed innocent. He poked my eye with a metal instrument. The visit ended when he told me he "refused" to write prescriptions for "inferior" generic contacts. There went an extra hundred bucks.

On an unrelated medical note, Paris Hilton was released from jail today after serving only three days of her 45 day sentence for an "unspecified medical problem." I hate to speculate, but should a semen overdose really be grounds to release someone to home monitoring?

Who really killed O.J.'s wife?

Anyone ever had one of those dreams that just continues all night? Last night, I kept waking up every half an hour or so, but as soon as I went to sleep, the dream continued. Basically, a faction of the CIA contacted me to let me know that the fate of the modern world actually hinged on Ron Goldman not getting murdered. They had a time machine, and were going to send me back two weeks before the alleged OJ Simpson murder to stop whoever did it. The kicker? The CIA had conclusive proof that OJ was not the murderer, so I had to find the killer on my own. Two weeks to save the world.

So they sent me back with a bunch of guns and a friend of mine from law school and we went around busting heads and taking prisoners of people who may be able to help us find the killer. Now and then, my perception of the world switched to "video game mode" and my eyes would "scroll" over something and a little box would pop up mentally telling me that the person has information or is a threat. One other thing...we traveled in a Greyhound bus, driven by Higgins from Magnum, P.I.

Jonathan Quayle Higgins

Anyways, it was a day before the murder and I was very close to catching the murderer...we had an address and we just had to get there before he left to begin the slashing. I knew the place was twenty minutes away, however, I didn't know where it was. The fate of the world rested on me being able to navigate. I awoke in a panic, because Ron Goldman is in serious danger without Higgins getting good directions in the front of the bus. I was unable to return to sleep.

Now, I'm kind of pissed that I didn't get to see the end of my mental movie. I really wanted to know who the real killer was (almost certainly somebody I knew), if we saved the world, and most importantly, why Ron Goldman was the link that bound all humanity to survival. Anyone got any ideas? Because I sense a blockbuster movie.

And isn't it ironic, don't you think?

The last time I walked outside (two days ago), I saw a giant pink piece of paper plastered on my windshield. It encouraged me to "save the environment" by working for an unnamed organization this summer. I quickly balled up the piece of paper and threw it on the street. Fuck you, environment.

My Day

I woke up this morning, made some coffee, then never walked outside. My dickhole landlord called the night before and informed me that he had scheduled three showings...starting at 8 a.m. I woke up at 7 so I could be dressed and showered before the prospective tenants could stare disapprovingly at my dirty clothes heap.

The first show I flipped on happened to be The Rock, starring Nicolas Cage. Strangely, Charter only gave it one star, while other movies like The Wash (A movie about smoking and selling weed; starring Snoop Dogg and Dr. Dre) received two stars. After that movie ended, I decided to remain consistent and switched to another Nic Cage movie: The Family Man. At the end of that one, I was awake, and the storms were rolling in, so I decided to forego venturing outside and flipped on the third Nic Cage movie of the day: 8MM. I've seen it a few times now, but it never fails to shock me as one of the most fucked up movies I've ever seen. Finally, I found a FOURTH consecutive Nic Cage movie: Lord of War. I liked it, since it kind of reminded me of Thank you for smoking, only it was alot darker with more people getting killed.

So how did I spend my day? I wasted...no INVESTED it in reviewing the work of Nicolas Cage. I don't think I'll be able to do that again until I retire. Three years from now.