Guess I'll Never be Cool

It's been nearly ten years since I graduated from high school. At the time, I was sad to leave. I had made friends, gotten comfortable, and had no idea there was a world outside of my small speck of Wisconsin. As I left for college, I was convinced I'd never make friends as good as those I had in high school. The few girls who responded to my awkward suggestions of dating were the only women I thought I'd ever truly love. And people actually thought N'Sync was cool.

I got a call tonight from an old friend I haven't heard from in a couple of years. One of the friends I thought I'd never lose touch with. Turns out our class leadership (I didn't vote, all of the candidates sucked) organized a ten year high school reunion. They sent out invitations via email and even went to the trouble of calling parents and sending mailings to last known addresses. Of some people. Not me. So, when I was told to check out the website of the class reunion and sent an innocent inquiry to our class secretary (who used to be smoking but is apparently now only smoking barbecue to consume in mass quantities) as to whether I could walk in for the reception, I was promptly rebuffed. "Sorry, you're past the deadline, maybe in 5 years!"

I always thought of myself as someone who was cool amongst the nerds. I was never the ultra-popular ladies man. Never the star jock. Never the rich kid whose parents bought him a 2000 Audi (yes, that kid aside from being a dumbass douche was one of the most popular to walk the halls of my high schhol). When I left high school I had the perception that things were great, but I would get better myself. To this day, I think I subconsciously harbored the illusion that I'd be able to change myself and one day be "cool." That in the years to come, I'd be accepted by the popular crowd. Those people thought I wasn't even worth tracking down.

Contrary to the expectations of my single-digit readers, this isn't going to be another mopey, depressed post on why I'll never be good enough for the people in my life. Since high school I've had some amazing experiences...met wonderful people in college and some real lifelong friends in law school. I've squared off against a rabid raccoon...and some non-rabid raccoons. Threw a football at a beach cat. Discovered Point Break. And realized that being cool doesn't mean being happy. Honestly, for as smart as I think I am, it took me a long time to figure that out. So if they don't want me ten years later because I'm not worthy enough to hang out in the high school parking lot amongst popped collars and inflated senses of accomplishment, fuck it.

So I guess I'm not going to have a class reunion movie moment where I show up and everyone who thought I was a dork in high school now realizes I'm the shit. Drew Barrymore, Freddie Prinze Jr. and Ryan Reynolds are apparently lying sacks. But that's okay. I guess in the end, I can only hope that all the people who looked down on me in high school get raped in a feces-filled gutter by a rhino with aids. Ah, memories.

Habeas Cockslap (You have the Cockslap)

For only the second time in my career, I've petitioned a Court for a writ of habeas corpus. Habeas is an "extraordinary writ" that is only used in specific instances alleging that a person is being held in custody unlawfully. In my case, I have a client who has been on a revocation hold for 99 days after an incident where he became "unreasonably loud" with his psycho ex-girlfriend. I sent a total of three certified letters and ten angry phone calls to the probation agent and supervisor staffing the case demanding discovery and inspection of their file. I was denied repeatedly. On the date of the final revocation hearing, the agent showed up fifteen minutes late with a 60 page revocation packet filled with all kinds of evidence I hadn't been allowed to inspect. It recommended four years incarceration in the Wisconsin State Prison System. The shocked ALJ immediately adjourned the proceedings to give me time to, you know, investigate and prepare.

I moved the circuit court for a writ of habeas corpus alleging that the sheer ineptitude of Agent Fucktard resulted in my client being held indefinitely without due process. I also threw in the fact that Wisconsin law requires these hearings to be held within fifty days of incarceration. Today I recieved a "cease and desist" letter and threatening phone call from some dickhole in the AG's office. He told me that my case was "frivolous" and "unethical" and if I don't immediately dismiss he would have the writ quashed and me professionally disciplined. The Assistant AG informed me that as a lowly public defender, I likely have not handled nearly the volume of habeas writs that he had and am way out of my league. My decision to subpoena the wayward agent and his supervisor apparently make me personally liable to them for frivolously taking them from their jobs. Of course, he mentioned that "fairness" dictates the Attorney General's office have at least eight weeks to respond and stated that adjournment was necessary.

"Fairness" in this case would involve my client not being imprisoned without any hearing, notice of alleged violations, or discovery for over 100 days. Of course what this prick doesn't realize is that I practice in front of a longtime rural judge who absolutely hates lawyers he doesn't know...especially government lawyers....ESPECIALLY big-city lawyers. I can't wait for the moment when I'm ordered to bone his mom right in front of him and pull out to ejaculate my stream of justice telephonically all over the DOJ. It makes me absolutely furious when the government abuses its power at the expense of a poor, uneducated individual who has no power to resist on his own. As a realist, I'm cognizant of the fact that I could very well lose this. Afterall, Justice Gableman taught us all that defending them criminals makes us the scum of the earth...and middle earth (I defended Gollum). But fuck, what I wouldn't give for five minutes of absolute immunity to commit 940 offenses in the name of justice.

UPDATE: Put this one in the "W" column. Fuck you, J.B. Van Hollen. Dah Deh Dah; Dah Deh Dah (Victorious Sportscenter theme).

Another store I may not be welcome at

Old Lady at Wal-Mart checkout: "Cough, Cough, hack, phlegm" [all over Mr. Utah's groceries on the conveyor belt]

Mr Utah: [presumably under his breath] "Mind not coughing the swine flu all over my fucking food?"

*All parties turn to stare at Mr. Utah immediately after said remark*

Unbelievable

Loving v. Virginia came down more than forty years ago. God bless the South for always giving me a reason to feel righteously indignant.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20091015/ap_on_re_us/us_interracial_rebuff

Lou Holtz: Dementia in Action

Lou Holtz: But when you're fighting for a national championship, every second counts. (Referring to Notre Dame Football)

Mark May: "Fighting for a national championship?" They haven't even played a team with a winning record yet. The best defense they have gone up against was ranked 72.

Lou Holtz: Why can't you just be unbiased about Notre Dame, like I am.

Editors note: Nice to see someone filling Madden's stupid shoes.

On a fucking stairmaster.

Today I recieved some depressing news. The corporation counsel whom I'd gone back and forth with over the past two and a half years died in his sleep. He was a year away from retirement. I know this because he told me the day before.

It's always such a shock to hear about the sudden death of someone you see every week, especially when that person was healthy and relatively young. In hindsight, the suddenness of it all makes things seem pointless-that someone could spend his whole life working and then die too soon in an entirely ordinary way. In season three of the wire, Jimmy McNulty heard about the death of Detective Ray Cole after collapsing on a stairmaster. All McNulty could say was "On a fucking stairmaster."

I never really understood that scene until today. Life is unpredictable, and being a good person doesn't prevent death from keeling you over way too young. All of the things you put off will never get done. You look at the lives of these people and wonder if they were happy, hoping the answer is yes.

I'm sad to hear that he's gone, but glad that I have the opportunity to evaluate my own life. I think we all need these wake up calls now and again to realize that life doesn't care about how much we want things. If we don't get it done in time, it won't happen. Most people live their lives without living at all. I'm thankful that my last lesson from this man (He pwned me in the courtroom several times) is such an important one.

Bruce Willis?

I've made this analogy before plenty of times, but it's time to vent about it in public. Bruce Willis played the male lead in arguably the better of the two mid-90's comet movies: Armageddon. He was a badass driller rocking the chrome dome. Ladies? But despite all of his marketable qualities, he found himself alone throughout the movie.

Ben Affleck, in his normal routine of douchebaggery, fell in love with Bruce Willis' bangin hot daughter and failed to succumb to Bruce's shotgun. Long story short, Bruce and Affleck found themselves out in space on an asteroid with Steve Buscemi. The goal was to drill a hole to the middle, throw a nuclear bomb down the middle, and blow it to pieces, saving Earth in the process.

So in the movie's pivotal moment, the crew discovered that the remote control used to detonate the nuclear bomb had malfunctioned. They had to draw straws to determine who would sacrifice himself to blow up the asteroid while the rest escaped unscathed. Ben Affleck drew the short straw, but alas, Bruce realized how much Affleck loved his daughter and chose to sacrifice himself instead. You know, because he was alone and didn't have hair.

If my world were Armageddon, I'm pretty sure I'd fall into the Bruce Willis role. Assuming you all don't want my cosmic cockslap to be the last thing you all see raining down from the death asteroid, I want you to all vow right now to name a bunch of schools and/or Qdobas after me in the event of my martyrdom. No promises to save France.

N'Suck

I spend alot of my work day surfing the internet to relive awkward pop references from the 80's and 90's (Go Bayside!). While I earned my state-reduced salary I happened to stumble on a band that was big my senior year of high school: LFO.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r1dfEf1qOt4&feature=related

My only thought as I relived this video was "THIS was cool??" A bunch of frosted-hair assholes faux-rapping about how they like girls who wear Abercrombie and Fitch? Not only do the lyrics make no sense, (e.g. "Fell deep in love but now we aint speakin, Michael J. Fox was Alex P. Keaton"), but those words that they manage to string together are naturally enraging to anyone who has at least one descended testicle.

LFO stands for "Lyte Funkie Ones." Apparently this means they're white boys who are down with the funk. Well, play that funky music, white boys. I'm guessing the lead singer, the guy with the Zack Morris hair and Jersey accent is supposed to be the "tough guy" of the band. You can tell when he sings "I'll steal your honey like I stole your bike" means that he's ready to throw down for his boys. But beneath his wrong side of the tracks exterior, he has a soft spot for Abercrombie and Fitch-wearing socialites.

So seeing as these guys are probably millionaires, I'm guessing it won't be too hard to travel back to the 90's and start my own boy band. I'll round up a group of talentless Gap models and call it D-BAG. They'll make boatloads of money singing about how they like girls. Girls with nice clothes. Of course, as their music manager I'll hold all of the profits in trust. Then I'll schedule them for a concert at 7:30 a.m. on September 11, 2001 at the top of the world trade center, pants them on national TV, and parachute off the building screaming lyrics from Journey. Kanye West can open.

Hey Bodhi, Vaya Con Dios

The second lead in the greatest film of all time has cast himself into the figurative giant tsunami never to return. Patrick Swayze passed away today at the age of 57. Without him, there would be no Bodhizafta, no ex-presidents, no beach football amid a gasoline-soaked blaze. And no Red Dawn, either; easily the second greatest movie of all time...or Roadhouse: #3.

This is honestly one actor I'm going to miss. I'll feel nostalgic every time I watch Point Break from this point onward. Rest in Peace.

"Yo Johnny, I'll see you in the next life"

-Bodhi

Deja Vu

The sensation of experiencing something you have experienced before. In this case, the numbers on my paycheck, reduced to where it was when I was first hired more than two years ago. Thanks to Jim cockfuck Doyle and my capitulating care bear union, I now have to take pay cuts and furloughs of almost eleven percent my annual salary. Why? So we wouldn't lay off fourteen new law school hires to cover the deficit in the budget our representatives in Madison couldn't balance. Hope you appreciate it, fuckers. For the record, I voted for their termination.

Public service is becoming more and more expensive. I write this semi-anonymous post in direct violation of the edict not to bad mouth the agency or Governor Dickhole for the ass-ramming we just endured. My frustrations have grown to the point where I can't really rule out going on a massive workplace rampage atop a rhinoscerous with flamethrowers and shark launchers. At least if I get convicted of first degree intentional homicide, the government will spend what I'm worth in care and custody. And in prison, I won't be forced to cancel HBO.

Bottom line, I'm out as soon as it's feasible.

Coon Cola!

I thought I had closed the final chapter on my battles with Raccoons after the great roof shootout of '05 (i.e. watched the raccoons crawl out of my roof and into the gutter). But apparently they've chosen a new home to plot their revenge.

http://video.yahoo.com/network/100000086?v=5289218&l=100000085

The Greatest Late-Night Appearance EVER

I haven't watched the late night show since Conan left. However, I am now a loyal follower. Last night Jimmy Fallon hosted Zack Morris; his first ever public appearance since Saved by the Bell. Yes, he actually appeared as Zack Morris. AND got a call from Jessie Spano on his sick-ass early 90's cell phone. Although I'm sorry to hear about Kelly's decision to leave him for Jeff at the Max (fucking bastard!), it was good to see my favorite preppy once more.

http://www.latenightwithjimmyfallon.com/blogs/2009/06/zack-attacks-late-night-signs-on-for-the-reunion/

Insert Penis Joke Here

http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/20090530/ts_alt_afp/usitresearchmilitarylaser_20090530082418

Time to move on?

Observe Wisconsin Governor Jim Doyle. This man is a cockmonger. A cockmonger is one who mongs cocks.

Today Governor Doyle announced a plan that would deny me my contractually promised pay increases, reduce those raises I've already recieved, and force me to take over three weeks of unpaid leave to the tune of a seven percent reduction in salary; leaving me making less than I actuallly started at. But don't worry, I will be expected to do more work that I do at the present for the Badger State.

My boss tried to assure me that it sounds worse than it really is. Basically, I was advised to take it in the ass because the government will eventually feel bad and make it up to me. For some reason, the words of Preston "Bodhi" Broadus came to mind:

"Do the chair realize we gonna look like a bunch of punk ass bitches?"