chaser's rant

CIA

2006-02-17T21:42:00.000-05:00

I am representing a woman who has been accused of committing two armed robberies. She doesn't think the second one should count because the guy she robbed was trick who ran out on her without paying when she "got up to spit." I put that in quotes because I don't want an intimate connection with that phrase. I spent an hour or so with her in jail, where she explained to me that her confession had been coerced because it was too hot in the interrogation room. Officers should start using my office for interrogation if that is all it takes.

I held her preliminary exam yesterday. Just as I stood up to put in my appearance, she said, "Do you think it will help that I'm a CIA agent?" I whispered, keeping a straight face, "You're a CIA agent. We need to deal with that later." I hope Dick Cheney doesn't out her- she is DEEP undercover.

I'm Ba-ack!

2006-01-24T10:50:00.000-05:00

Hello people (namely, friends and family).

So this is what's happening: I've been gone for weeks preparing for trial and then being at the actual trial, and now it is over. What now?

The trial went as well as it could possibly have gone, except for the result, which I will get to in another post. First, let me tell you that the bathroom at the Ritz-Carlton is all you might imagine it to be. And the pillows are awfully nice, too. And then there was the view out my window of the Harbor, and the Statue of Liberty just across the water. There was even a telescope set up so I could get a little more up close and personal with her, but she was always upside down. Two weeks in that room, and I never figured out how to fix that. Luckily, I'm a lawyer and not a ship's captain.

But the absolute best thing about staying in a fancy hotel was staying on the fancy floor -- the 11th floor, to be exact. When you get off the elevator (with your extra special key card) there are huge jars of candy just waiting for you. There is a very nice person behind a desk to say, "Hello, Ms. Chiasson, how are you today?" (I think she only said that to me, though.)

Then, when you go into the lounge (which we spent most of our non-trial time in), there were more jars with cookies and trays of food laying around, bottles of fancy water and diet coke, and champagne. Yes, champagne. Did I get to drink any? Nooooo. I was woooorking. But some other nice person would come by every afternoon, after the trial day, and say, "Good afternoon, Ms. Chiasson, would you like a beer now?" Of course, I wanted to be polite so I usually accepted. Just one, though, to keep the wheels turning for the pre-dinner work to be done. After a few hours we would head to some restaurant for a steak and fries (but really fancy fries, elegant, even) and some wine, then I would go back to my room for more work to prepare for the following day.

I managed to keep myself fairly busy with this schedule. There was always something that needed to be done, and usually several things at once. I wasn't the only one available, I was just the only one that seemed to be getting anything done. One of the other associates, from our co-counsel law firm, managed what I assume was a very difficult feat: Every single time anyone involved with the trial looked at her, including our British clients, she was eating a plate of fruit. For two weeks. Fruit, all the time.

This is a person who must weigh about 90 pounds soaking wet. She must have been trying, single-handedly, to combat the image of fat, produce-starved Americans. There was always fruit available, and she kept a plate of it as her constant companion, like a security blanket -- when we were in the war room (a fancy name for a room with lots of boxes and computers in it) while I was madly searching for exhibits; when we were in the trial room (during key witnesses you could turn around and see her munching away on a piece of watermelon) while the rest of us took notes and told important jokes about the other team; walking through the halls during trial breaks, carrying her plate, while the rest of us talked strategy; and back at the 11th floor lounge (she did not have an extra special key card to get into the lounge herself, we had to vouch for her; then she wiped out all the fruit) while the rest of us feverishly prepared for the following day.

I learned at least two lessons from her behavior:

1.) Eat fruit constantly and you will waste away to nothing;
2.) Eat fruit constantly and you will be mercilessly mocked by those around you.

Given my pride, I am not sure how to synthesize these lessons. Of course, having a big fat ass opens one up to merciless taunting, as well. But at least in that case one would be in good company -- most Americans are fat. But walking around with a plate of fruit like it's your teddy bear during a two week trial? That's just weird. I mean, have a cookie, for chrissakes, like a normal person!

So I've decided there must be a middle way, some delicate balance that will promote health and group acceptance, and it goes something like this:

Eat more fruit, but only at appropriate times. And cut back on fries. But not during trial.

Now the trial is over and I am back to my own home. No 11th floor lounge. No jars of cookies. No plates of cheese and veggies waiting for me when I come home from work. Nobody to offer me a beer. And no fruit bowls.

During private moments, however, when I was sure no one was looking, I have managed to peel an orange or two.

My Seven Deadly Sins-ometer

2006-01-03T14:19:00.000-05:00

Well, I've always wondered how to describe exactly what is wrong with me and to quantify every flaw, and now somebody has created a test to do just that: The Seven Deadly Sins test. Here are my results:

Greed:	Medium
Gluttony:	Medium
Wrath:	Low
Sloth:	Medium
Envy:	Low
Lust:	Medium
Pride:	High

Take the Seven Deadly Sins Quiz -- it's fun! It's easy! It uses the word sloth!

The Bugle Sisters

2005-12-23T07:02:00.000-05:00

Ok, here is the real difference between the third generation of the Bugle Sisters...While Mrsjules and Chase are wasting their hard earned money on items such as exercise machines which according to them is ONLY adding to their lists of, "What should I feel guilty about today?" (Like being born a female doesn't automatically come with enough issues to last a lifetime) I "Just Call me Loretta" found another way to spend a ridiculous amount of money on something that is also causes me much guilt and is NOT making my ass any smaller either.

A mink coat.

There, I have come out of the closet, put the eggs down, we all have our faults, and may this be my only one that I discover this week.

Much to my disappointment, I had to face the truth about myself, as I pulled out my American Express to pay for it, that I could never be a true lesbian. With this purchase I would forever be straight and probably hated by a large majority of the population. It would further lessen my chances of ever having dinner with Alec Baldwin.

It cost somewhere between the shitty machine that Mrs. Jules bought and the OMG some folks don’t pay that for a car that Chase spent.

I am at times amazed at myself that I actually purchased it, not-so-much because I am a true animal lover, but I am a clearance rack shopper who would never think of spending more than 17.99 for a pair of jeans. You can only imagine how it sets my hair on fire when my thirteen year old begs for a pair from Abercrombie & Finch which costs 70.00. These come with the added bonus of every time she sits down the entire 8th grade class has a clear view of her butt crack. WTF!

Sorry…I was having a “Mother Moment”.

Anyway, so toss those eggs, my mink makes me feel elegant. After giving birth to a set of twins and looking at the battle scars it left behind, even after the tummy tuck, wearing the mink is what it takes. Or could it be I am really a fag in drag!

Ya Think!

I did wear it to Traders Joes one night, with nothing else but a pair of pumps and a string of pearls, to buy a bottle of wine on my way to Mike’s house one night back when we were dating.

Now just what does that make me???

Bye.

New Job!

2005-12-14T16:39:00.000-05:00

One of my client's offered me a new job today. He said he is going to be a star and needed an entertainment lawyer. The fact that I do criminal defense was no barrier for him because he wants a "homegrown Detroit crew." I'm sure he saw that I am a corn-fed white girl, so I gotta give the man credit for openmindedness. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I've never actually lived in Detroit. I told him to keep in touch.

I'm reading a great book called "South of 8 mile" about a white boy growing up in Detroit in the 70's and 80's, when every other white family (almost literally) moved north of 8 mile.

The Machine

2005-12-09T12:43:00.000-05:00

Nance made me quit the gym. She was sick of spending 80 bucks a month on a membership that I use only sporadically. Of course, I have a great deal of guilt over paying for it when in some months I don’t even go once, and in other months I might go twice (40 bucks a visit!). I also know there will always be times when I go a lot -- but only for a relatively short span of time. Mostly, though, I am nostalgic about it because I have been a member since college -- almost 15 years now. Over those years I have probably averaged 20 visits a year. You do the math.

So she was sick of it, and I was sick of the guilt (and let's just say that she helped grease the wheels of that process). And anyway I knew it was the right thing to do. So I quit. This set off a storm of fights as I pouted and tantrumed and generally muddled through my grief.

Then I had a brilliant idea. We had been talking for some time about getting an exercise machine in anticipation of having a baby (if that ever happens). Although Nance would be content to exercise outdoors through the long, harsh winter, she won’t always be able to get out of the house to exercise once there is a small creature in the house that can't be left alone (or walked with the same gusto as the dogs). Of course, I can't get my ass outside to exercise in even the finest weather, but I certainly wouldn't want to head off to the gym for several hours (not that I need further discouragement), and we probably wouldn't be able to go to yoga class whenever we wanted.

So we were planning to spend a thousand bucks on a decent machine -- I thought, based on absolutely nothing but wishful thinking, that one could get a high quality treadmill for around that amount. But then it I had this alarming realization: "Wait a minute, I HATE the treadmill!" Luckily, I realized this before I spent a thousand dollars on one. Then I further declared, "But I LOVE the elliptical! That's it!"

So I started researching ellipticals. I read about them on consumer reports, which only confirmed my belief that one should not waste one's time or money or space buying a low quality elliptical machine, because one will not use said piece of low quality shit and one's ass will only expand further. This warning played on my inherent fear that I won't use said piece of shit, and it dovetailed nicely with my innate penchant for spending money on the most expensive things I can find. Seriously, I am starting to think I have a bit of loopiness in this department.

After I settled on the elliptical and concluded that I really had to buy a gym quality machine or nothing, I started searching ebay and other places on the web. Guess what? They don't sell for a thousand bucks. Not for two thousand, either. Twenty-seven hundred big ones, baby.
After several weeks (months maybe) of looking into it (rarely am I so non-impulsive) I finally concluded that that is simply how much it will cost to have the machine I want.

So I got it. (Can we say, "entitled"?) We figure it will pay for itself in four more years of gym dues. Despite my worry that I have a mental illness that causes me to seek out and plunk down money for very expensive items, Nance bought my reasoning with no objection. She doesn’t suffer from my affliction of loving to spend money for its own sake, so I went with that. With shipping from California for the totally re-manufactured (and warrantied) machine, it cost just over 3000.

Am I an idiot?

But I am really excited to use it. At least for tonight. After that, if worst comes to worst, the handlebars will be good for drying clothes. But then, of course, not only would my ass continue to expand, but my partner would surely kill me. Dead. So I have no choice. I can just hear her now, as I settle into bed at night: "Did you use your three thousand dollar machine today?"

By my calculation, if I use it 375 times, that would amount to paying 8 bucks a session, which is the same as yoga class. (Of course, the fact that we buy unlimited class cards for yoga complicates matters, because I am obligated to attend 3-4 classes per week in order to justify that expense! But I do.) That's a little over a year of using it every day, which is not realistic. But, of course, I will have it for many more years than that, and I will not be the only one using it.

It arrived yesterday (I haven't named it yet, but I am thinking of Bertha). The box it came in looks like Monty Python’s Trojan Bunny. My brother Bob, the hero, is coming over tonight with his friend Michael to get it into my basement. It weighs 250 pounds. That's one big bunny. Now, if only my ass would get smaller, it would all be worth it.

Busy Beaver

2005-11-29T11:54:00.000-05:00

I know it's been like forEVAH since I have posted, and I apolgize. I am glad that the rest of you have been chipping in. Here's the thing: until recently I didn't have any looming deadlines so I was bored at work, with the whole day stretching ahead of me and nothing to keep my mind off the nerve-wracking kitchen renovation we were undergoing, and the trials and tribulations of doing IVF. Add to that the fact that Kim wasn't responding to my emails, and voila! I created a blog. And started a novel. And fantasized constantly about starting my own law practice where I could sit around and be bored on my own time and not get paid for it.

Then, suddenly, IVF was over for a while (sadly), the construction neared its climax and needed all sorts of attention toward the end, and the deadline I feared is finally upon me: my pre-trial brief for the case I have been working on solidly, almost exclusively, for a year and a half is due next week, along with various other submissions.

It's anybody's guess as to why I always have to wait until about two weeks prior to a deadline to really kick into gear -- I'm sure Kim would have taken advantage of her downtime the past several weeks and would already have it written by now -- but it is my modus operandi: seemingly innate, fixed, unchangeable. And anyway, I like it this way. The adrenaline of being behind the eight ball is exciting, and it makes the idea of writing a 25 to 50 page brief about contract interpretation seem, well, fun. And when you get down to it, any strategy that can make this exercise fun is a keeper, right?

Alas, my blog is suffering and my novel has fallen by the wayside (at least until next November), but the thrill of a deadline has made me much happier. Come to think of it, if you all gave me deadlines I would probably write more.

Anyway, I have no choice but to write here more because Kim's new fancy email system at the public defender's office keeps rejecting my emails. Day after day I write a little essay on my life and try to craft insightful questions about hers,, and day after day it gets bumped back to me. So far, the only one to go through had in the subject line, "I am a personal friend, dammit!" But the system hasn't fallen for that trick twice. Now, I wonder why this is a problem. Could it be that the system thinks I am some sort of hooligan, a prankster, a computer scammer? Or could it be that the PD office has an exceptionally tight security system?

justice in Detroit

2005-11-23T14:51:00.000-05:00

I had my busiest day ever today in Frank Murphy Hall of "Justice". OK, there are no quotes in the actual name of the building. Today, I had a client who was charged with possession of Vicodin. The client brought a valid prescription to court. I showed it to the prosecutor who said, "Well, maybe we can charge him with a misdemeanor." I wanted to say fuck you, but I said very slowly so she would understand, "He has a valid prescription. Therefore, he did not break the law by having Vicodin in his possession." Fortunately, a more senior prosecutor came down before I had to kill her. He dismissed the charges. Another client wanted to plead guilty and get probation but he refused to admit to the conduct so the judge wouldn't take his plea! Yea! My first blown guilty plea. I didn't prep him enough about what he would have to do to. He can plead later, fortunately.

The Kitchen is in the House

2005-11-21T10:04:00.000-05:00

Here it is, folks, the kitchen of my dreams.
It took a full 8 weeks of living off paper plates with a layer of dust over everything in the house and piles of kitchen shit all over the dining room, but it is done. Well, that is, except for the work that I need to do to finish the painting, but that's a story for another day. Note the peninsula; the picture doesn't do it justice -- it is the size of a dining room table! We haven't quite figured out the proper number and type of stools and their placement, that is still a subject of intense negotiation.

Survey Says!

2005-11-13T17:15:00.000-05:00

According to a Customer Rage Survey released today, 15% of shoppers surveyed who received unsatisfactory service actually sought revenge for their suffering. Luckily for front-line customer service representatives, just 1% reported actually exacting vengeance (the details of which were not divulged in the study). A more composed 13% said they used profanity when interacting with customer service reps, and 33% simply raised their voice.

The findings of the report, conducted by Customer Care Alliance in collaboration with the W.P. Carey School of Business at Arizona State University, show that the relationship between sellers and shoppers is rocky, at best. A whopping 70% of the 1,012 survey respondents experienced “customer rage” -- their most serious consumer problem in the past year made them "extremely" or "very" upset.

Okay, since Chase has nothing to rant about lately I will. Who the hell has the time and funds to be doing SUCH ridiculous surveys? Apparently the folks at Arizona State University! Have they nothing better to do?

I for one become completely raged when I am asked to participate in most surveys; one such as this would take me way past being “extremely” upset or even “very” upset, It would simply piss me off. And to then hold back the details of the vengeance inflicted, what a tease! What do they think? We will all start seeking revenge for when our coffee order at Dunkin Donuts comes out once again WRONG. It is pointless to even tell the server at Dunkin Donuts what you want in your coffee; they just give you what they want anyhow. I know my fault for going there instead of Starbucks.

And Suffering…what would cause a “shopper” to suffer. I recall a few times that I have received unsatisfactory service, but don’t think I actually “suffered” from it. Obviously the folks surveyed have never given birth or have never had to listen to my 4 adolescent daughters argue as to who’s turn it is on the computer. Now that’s suffering. Lets leave the word suffer to the folks who really deserve it.

Now here’s my favorite part; a more “composed” 13% said they used profanity. I don’t know about you but when I am telling someone to fuck off and die because my burger came without cheese, I would not describe myself as being composed at that given moment.

So which percentage do you all fall in? Do you simply raise you voice? Or are you the 1% who actually exacted vengeance? If so, give us all the gory details.

Strange Silence

2005-11-09T17:31:00.000-05:00

Hello dear readers. I apologize for my absence, but I have been feeling under the weather and generally out of commission. And anyway, there is really nothing to rant about right now. The democrats captured two governor's mansions yesterday, Maine voters approved an anti-discrimination law protecting gays and lesbians, and all of the governator's California ballot initiatives were defeated -- including the one where he wanted to require teens seeking abortions to notify their parents. Texas passed a constitutional amendment banning gay marriage, but I am hoping they secede soon -- and take Chimpy with them -- so maybe that won't be an issue. And the Chimperator is now requiring his employees to take an ethics course -- that should do the trick! Will the vice-dictator be attending? Will there be a topic on "Ethical Torture"?

The truth is, I am tired. And I am sick, so that makes me sick and tired. But right now I am going out to dinner with friends so I can socialize, eat steak frites, and drink wine. Then I am going home to watch somebody die on Lost, because that is my idea of fun. Maybe tomorrow I will tell you about my kitchen renovation woes and Home Depot's total and utter incompetence.

Another important link

2005-11-04T11:45:00.000-05:00

Since I am so into linking up our dear readers with other people today, here is the link to my sister Julie's blog: http://mrsjules.blogspot.com/

It is called "Teach your children well." Check it out!

Laura Bush from the other side

2005-11-04T11:22:00.000-05:00

I guess this picture gives some explanation for the last one...

http://derenegade.blogspot.com/2005/11/looks-like-bonnie-prince-charles.html

Laura Bush's Botox

2005-11-04T11:15:00.000-05:00

People, you have got to look at this candid shot of the First Lady in her true Alien colors, http://derenegade.blogspot.com/2005/11/todays-compare-and-contrast.html.

New Job

2005-11-04T10:48:00.000-05:00

I'm going to be starting a new job on Monday as a public defender. I plan to start posting about what's going on in the criminal justice system in Detroit from my perspective as a defense insider. I'm sure I'll have plenty of outrageous stories.

more buyer's remorse

2005-11-03T21:22:00.000-05:00

35% approval rating? Why the fuck does anyone approve of him? Why can't he be impeached? (As another blogger said, "WIll someone please give him a blowjob so we can impeach him?")

Listen to the Bitch

2005-11-03T12:53:00.000-05:00

Hello, people. Strange silence today, huh? Is it because there is nothing important in the world to talk about? Bullshit! I am happy to see positive press for what the Dems did yesterday (was that yesterday? I'm losing track of time). But see also the incisive and appropriately belligerant piece on www.angryblackbitch.blogspot.com about how the Dems might have thought to do this before we went to war and had thousands of people killed. I offer my heartfelt apologies for not thinking of that angle in my rush to praise the sad sacks of shit known as the Democrats for actually doing something now. But I am fundamentally an optimist, so although it might be more accurate to say, "Too little, too late," I prefer to think, "Better late than never, assholes."

husband notification

2005-11-02T17:39:00.000-05:00

I saw this on a bunch of blogs today:

Ampersand makes the following observation:
Until lesbian couples have equal marriage rights, the term is "husband notification." Calling it "spousal" notification is Orwellian; there will never be an instance in which a male "spouse" needs to sign a form swearing he's notified a female "spouse" of his medical decisions.

Garance Franke-Ruta (TAPPED.com) adds:
It is worth noting that at the same time the state of Pennsylvania was arguing that the state had a legitimate interest in compelling a woman to inform her husband before she obtained an abortion, the state declined to make the conceptually similar demand that an HIV-infected man inform his wife that he carried a potentially deadly infectious disease that could be sexually transmitted.
....The overwhelmingly male legislators of the state of Pennsylvania thought it perfectly appropriate to intervene in a woman's marriage and deny her the freedom to make reproductive choices without coercion, threats, or worse from her husband. Judge Samuel Alito agreed with those legislators. And yet, should that same husband carry HIV, the state would have left informing his wife of this fact to his discretion, and would require from him no proof or signed affirmation that he had, in fact, informed her.

Scooter Pie

2005-11-02T10:23:00.000-05:00

As you can tell by my photo I am not a lesbian or a natural red head. However in my next life I would like to be both. After attending Jen’s wedding you all seem to be having way more fun than me.

Chase, this is not Danny in drag, nor Mike’s ex-wife in a red wig….it is me, your sister Loretta…at her best.

I do thank you all for keeping me up-to-date on the world of politics because as you can see I am far too busy curling my hair which doesn’t leave much time to read a newspaper or watch the news. I do have one a couple of questions about the posting Rover and Scooter:

Why did I think that was going to be a nice family story about a boy and his dog? Maybe it was, in a round about way it.

Scooter...as in pie? Clearly someone was not thinking of a serious political career when choosing that nickname. I bet it was cute when he was five, but for Christ sake, people over the age of 40, especially those in the public eye, should really consider what affect this has on "ones" credibility. Apparently Mr. Scooter Pie is not fairing very well in that department and maybe a change of name might help. Let’s look at what he started with at birth…Lewis Libby. Again, what were his parents thinking? You never do two L’s together…unless of course you are Lyle Lovett.

Take Chase for instance…many of you probably don’t know that she, at times, when she was younger, was fondly referred to as; "Bunko", "Squirt" and one other, which is her least favorite. I’d love to tell you all what it is, but then I’d have to kill you and probably my self before Chase did. I highly doubt given the fact that she wants to be respected by her peers within her profession and the rest of society that she would encourage the use of such ridiculous nicknames now.

"Attorney Bunko, would you please approach the bench?" You can see why she has chosen a more "grown up" nickname. There are times when someone, usually a family member having a senior moment or too many martinis, will slip and refer to her as "Squirt". Let me tell you it’s not pretty, so don’t try it. Unless of course you want to see Chase really rant and maybe even rave.

Can anyone please tell me where the Scooter comes from? Did he never learn to ride one when he was a child?

Let’s see if we can do Mr. Lewis Libby a favor and find him a more grown up nickname.

How about Ad Libby?

The Dems (Finally) Fight the Power!

2005-11-02T09:26:00.000-05:00

Yesterday Harry Reid, the senate minority leader, invoked a parlaimentary procedure to force the Republican-controlled Senate to close its doors to the public. He did this to force a discussion of the Senate's investigation of the Bush administration's mishandling of intelligence leading up to the war. This was an extraordinarily bold move, and it was highly effective. A Republican-led Senate committee finished its investigation into the matter over a year ago, but it has failed to issue the report it promised. Now that Scooter has been indicted for lies in a criminal investigation about the mishandling of intelligence and the leak of a CIA agent's identity, the minority party decided to take this drastic step to keep pressure on Republicans to come clean about the Administration's lies.

Senate rules allow two little truth loving senators to make this closed-session happen. The craven Republicans only need 51 votes to make it stop. But, during the 2 hours that the Senate was closed to the press, the Democrats managed to extract a renewed agreement from Republicans to issue the promised report and they brought the public's attention to the delays, which only add to the feeling that the Republicans are covering their asses. In my view, that is a success.

Why haven't we done this before? I suppose the Democrats think back to the 90's and shudder, when Newt Gingrich and his merry band of fascists tried to inflict their "contract on america" on all of us. At that time, back in the good old days when opposite parties controlled the executive and legislative branches and the Court was relatively balanced, such tactics backfired on Republicans. If memory serves, it was the Republicans in Congress who refused to agree to budgets proposed by President Clinton, forcing the government to shut down repeatedly. This affected me personally, as it made it impossible to secure government backed student loans in time to make my law school tuition payments. And it affected plenty of other real folks, too -- there was a tremendous backlash in public opinion against the Republicans for their shenanigans. Here they thought they were taking this courageous stand against a president they hated, and the American people spanked them for it and drove them out of office.

But there is a huge difference in this case. There are no checks and balances left in government. The Republicans control the executive branch, the legislature, and soon they will control the Supreme Court. The Democrats control nothing. We are truly an opposition party. The American people, in my view, don't like this. They like to have balance. They don't like bullies. And they don't like unchecked corruption. I think they understand that the Democrats now have to resort to opposition tactics in order to address the rampant corruption that flows inevitably from a consolidation of power.

But the danger is that the American people are also highly suggestible. The press, as usual, will play a pivotal role in how this is spun to the masses. Will the Democrats be made to look obstructionist? Or will they be made to look like heroes? That remains to be seen. I think people need to speak up and spread the word that the Democrats are doing what's necessary to try to make the government honest again.

Jeffersonian

2005-11-01T18:18:00.000-05:00

I'm listening to "Founding Brothers" during my commuting time. It's about the founding brothers. I just cannot believe that politicians were already motherfuckers within ten years of the writing of the Constitution. During the 1800 campaign, Jefferson hired a guy to spread false information about Adams. Hamilton wrote a pamphlet describing how unfit and unstable Adams was - the very first swift boating. The federalists thought the democrat-republicans were traitors and vice versa. Jefferson thought federalists would destroy the union.

I thought the book might be inspiring, but it makes me want to give up worrying about electoral politics. Will Alito's elevation to the SC lead to the end times? OK, bad question because we know that his supporters certainly hope so. We're terrifiedt that Roe will be overturned, and maybe even Griswold. Certain states will then surely ban abortion, which will hopefully finally galvanize a lot of people who didn't care enough to act when my rights were being abrogated. I don't understand how 30% of the population- the crazy christian right- are able to rule the rest of us.

Sweetie cakes just read an article about mandatory voting. Can you imagine how fast rebublicans would change if 90% of americans voted? I am all for it. I think we should push for that.

Plot? What Plot?

2005-11-01T18:11:00.000-05:00

Well, folks, I need some help. I have to write a novel this month, and I got no advance notice! I just opened the Globe and there it was, the gauntlet, thrown down: National Novel Writing Month, otherwise knowns as NaNoWriMo. (You can check it out at www.nanowrimo.com.) So it's got to be 50,000 words, and they can't be the same word repeated 50,000 times so don't even go there. It works out to about 170 pages, which, spread over 29 remaining days, is about 5 per day.

Why did I do this? Because I have some burning desire to write the great American novel? No. I don't even like novels! I read one every once in a while, but mostly I prefer to gaze at my own navel. Which, of course, is why I started this Blog. So why don't I stick to this email-to-no-one form of journaling? Well, because it's a contest, and it seemed like it would be less painful than running a marathon. (That remains to be seen, although I have no intention of running a marathon for comparison's purposes.)

Also, the genius behind this contest is that it is designed to elicit failure. I mean how many people can sit down on November 1 and, without having given a moment's though to the matter, pound out a 170 page novel in 29 days? Last year about 40,000 poor schmucks participated from all round the world (I guess they mean "National" in the global sense) and only 6000 completed the task. So I will be in good company when I peter out.

But in the meantime, my relationship to the challenge and my failing it will be interesting. The other brilliant thing about the contest is that it is designed to elicit crap -- just lots of it. Write down 50,000 crappy words into crappy sentences to fill up crappy paragraphs and form them into a crappy novel -- but do it in 29 days, and -- most importantly -- do it! The most intriguing and useful feature of the contest, I think, is the purpose of silencing the inner critic for one month.

But there is a problem. I don't have a plot. Coming home on the train I decided that the novel would involve dogs, and some lesbians, maybe a couple of lawyers and a therapist and a political science guru and a real estate broker/humorist, but that's about as far as I got. Any ideas? What should happen to these characters? I imagine they ought to be moved away in certain ways to create tension, suspense, some sort of excitement (this is starting to sound like the makings of an erotic novel). I imagine there should be some sort of hero's journey involved. But who is the hero? The primary candidate, in my view, is Eamonn, but others might disagree.

OK, that's all I have so far. The first scene involves Eamonn waking up and complaining bitterly that he has to share his bed with Gracie, because he really doesn't like dogs. That's all I've got, and I don't think it will fill 170 pages. Help!

Oh, you aren't supposed to have "co-writers" but I think a little help from friends wouldn't be the end of the world! I'm not planning to finish! I hate endings, anyway.

Anarchy

2005-11-01T11:30:00.000-05:00

If we could form a new influential political party, what would it look like? What would be the federal government's role? Solely for police power and defense?

I am, at heart, an anarchist. You know, the peace-loving, community level decision making, egalitarian, commie anarchist. Not the "No Guns! No Tanks! We'll Burn Your Fucking Banks!" variety. (Well, maybe just a little bit, especially sartorially.) I think soveriegnty should truly rest with the people. But that means that you have to trust the people. Which I don't.

I think that my misguided libertarian friends demonstrate a level of selfishness that would prevent community-centered decision making and resource sharing. Libertarians, in their ideal world with no government, believe that fairies are going to spring from the magic volcano to take care of people who can't pay for their own healthcare or get enough to eat. I get the feeling that no Libertarians or Republicans would take part in the caregiving. Selfishness and fear are the twin pillars of the Republican Party.

So my anarchist ideals conflict with my pragmatic view that the federal government is the best source of the requisite social safety net. I think maybe I should think more about Scandanavian-style socialism.

Conservative judges=activist judges

2005-11-01T10:08:00.000-05:00

We hear a lot from the radical right about "activist judges" and how they like to "legislate from the bench." In fact, we heard it a lot after the Massachusetts SJC decided the Goodridge case, ruling that denying same sex couples the right to marry violates the Massachusetts constitution. If you want a witty comeback for the next time you hear that tired old argument, check out this post on www.Atrios.blogspot.com. Atrios reminds us today of an article that ran in the New York Times last summer, in which a Yale Law Professor showed us exactly who the activist judges are: conservatives. Noting that people often accuse a judge of being "activist" when they dislike the judge's opinion, the author decided to offer a measurable definition of an activist judge:

"In order to move beyond this labeling game, we've identified one reasonably objective and quantifiable measure of a judge's activism, and we've used it to assess the records of the justices on the current Supreme Court. Here is the question we asked: How often has each justice voted to strike down a law passed by Congress?

We found that justices vary widely in their inclination to strike down Congressional laws. Justice Clarence Thomas, appointed by President George H. W. Bush, was the most inclined, voting to invalidate 65.63 percent of those laws; Justice Stephen Breyer, appointed by President Bill Clinton, was the least, voting to invalidate 28.13 percent. The tally for all the justices appears below.

Thomas 65.63 %
Kennedy 64.06 %
Scalia 56.25 %
Rehnquist 46.88 %
O’Connor 46.77 %
Souter 42.19 %
Stevens 39.34 %
Ginsburg 39.06 %
Breyer 28.13 %

One conclusion our data suggests is that those justices often considered more "liberal" - Justices Breyer, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, David Souter and John Paul Stevens - vote least frequently to overturn Congressional statutes, while those often labeled "conservative" vote more frequently to do so. At least by this measure (others are possible, of course), the latter group is the most activist."

The point being, of course, that the next time you hear some crackpot right winger complaining about activist judges legislating from the bench, letting gays marry, giving rights to people of color, allowing cats and dogs to live together, etc., etc., you can just tell him to stick this data in his pipe and smoke it.

Loretta is My Sister

2005-10-31T16:39:00.000-05:00

Yes, folks, that is THE Loretta of www.lorettamosca.com, also known as "Parenting with a Sense of Humor." She's my sister, and after playing on a few family connections she will now be a contributor here at Chaser's Rant. I just googled her and there were, like, thousands of links to her site and other sites that either feature her hilarious parenting articles or link to her site (or both). She is famous! We should definitely hitch our wagon to her and hope that her star power will rub off a little bit on us. So, Loretta, when will you make your presence known here?

Rover and Scooter

2005-10-31T13:39:00.000-05:00

I was very happy to see this article just now on abc news http://abcnews.go.com/GMA/print?id=1265736 quoting Matthew Cooper, the Time journalist, as stating unequivocally that Rove first told him about Wilson's wife and that Scooter told him specifically that she was a covert agent. This does not bode well for either. Unless Rover has already admitted that he passed that information along he must have lied to the grand jury, and if he didn't lie, why not bust him for revelaing her name in the first place? As for Libby, disclosing the fact that she was a covert agent shows that he knew her status when he outed her -- so why isn't he being indicted for the leak itself, as opposed to perjury/false statement charges? In any event, it does add a nasty flavor to the brew boiling at the white house. Oh, look, I made a little inadvertent halloween reference!

But I would like to say that I think it is premature to demand Cheney's resignation. Don't get me wrong, I think he is guilty as hell and responsible for crimes against humanity, but I think we could do MUCH MUCH worse harm by firing him. I have two words: Harriet Miers. No, no, dear readers, not like I think Bush would elevate her to VP -- I just mean, if Cheney slinks back to his lair Bush will have the opportunity to bring in a new VP who will actually be interested in running for president so he/she/Condi can be annointed Bush's successor. I don't like that. Simmer down, everyone!

Strip searching and sloppy writing

2005-10-31T13:27:00.000-05:00

I, too, am dismayed by the most recent supreme court nomination. But I have to admit that I have approached this process with a sense of dread and resignation. Dreadful resignation, even. Dreaded resignation. Ahh, to lay down one's arms. It would make it easier to sleep at night, and to dance -- I never know what to do with my arms for those two essential life activities.

Anyway, I decided to post to protest Alito's sloppy writing, and here I am slopping away. I just read Alito's dissenting opinion in the "strip search of a 10 year old" case and found it sort of hilarious. I mean, here we have all been up in arms about dippy Harriet and how unqualified she is just because she described Bush as the most "brilliant" man she had ever met (conservatives object to this! I guess they aren't as dumb as they look) and she wrote him love letters on flowery cards and dotted her i's with little hearts. After reading Alito's garbage I say: Big whoop!

We knew all along, didn't we, that Harriet was the best chance we had? We knew that the clean up hitter would be somebody worse, right? I would like to think we aren't stupid. In fact, I think this whole, "She's a fine lady lawyer but not supreme court material" thing might have been a set up to let Bush appoint another white straight rabid man. After having Harriet's pancake make-up inflicted on us, who can object to going back to the land of testosterone?

I can. And I will. The case is Doe v. Groody, and it involved the question of whether police officers who performed illegal strip searches on a woman and her 10 year old daughter during a drug search investigating the Man of the House enjoyed "qualified immunity" for their actions. This is a fancy lawyer way of saying: can the woman and daughter sue the bastards for violating them, or not? Two of the three judges said they can -- the officers did not enjoy qualified immunity because they violated "clearly established rights" when they strip searched the woman and girl when the warrant only allowed a search of the target of the investigation, dear ol' Dad. Although the police requested that the warrant allow them to search anyone on the presmises, the warrant did not so provide. Neverthless, they took the woman and girl into a bathroom, made them lift up their shirts, patted them down, and then told them to drop their pants and turn around.

Now regardless of whether you think it likely that Dad hid contraband on his 10 year old daughter, that is not the issue. The issue is whether the police acted outside the warrant and whether, in doing so by strip searching a 10 year old girl, they violated clearly established rights. Sounds simple, doesn't it? Isn't the whole point of the warrant-getting process so that cops can't do exactly as they please, so that they have to operate with some limited amount of judicial oversight before they order young girls to drop their pants? I don't think this is open to debate. I think it may even be indisputable.

Which brings me to the dissent. That is where our new friend Alito comes in -- he's the guy that says it's no problem. First of all, I find it telling and prescient that NOWHERE in his dissent does he actually acknowledge the type of search performed -- the bare bottomed kind -- on this little girl. He refers to it, delicately, as "the search." Second, I don't take real issue with his conclusion -- that "the search" did not violate clearly established rights because, well, the cops were good guys and their authority was implied in the warrant because they asked for it -- because I expect nothing more from an arch-conservative idealogue of the Bush-Scalia-Thomas mold. It is his arrogance that really ticks me off, but I expect no better than that, either.

Alito concludes that the warrant did, in fact, authorize "the search" because the officers asked for that authority in their affidavit applying for the warrant. Now, the majority opinion dealt with that issue pretty convincingly when it concluded that the affidavit was not incorporated into the warrant in this case. I guess Alito missed that part of the majority opinion, because he writes summarily -- with no argument or plausible justification that I can find -- that the "warrant indisputably incorporated the affidavit. . . ."

Forgive me for being finicky, but I thought "indisputable" meant beyond dispute. So what was that in the majority opinion, where the other two judges concluded otherwise and with extensive argument to buttress their opinion, a tea party?

Now, I wouldn't want you to think that I only take issue with his misuse of one tiny word in his dissenting (i.e., losing) opinion. His tactic is classic neo-conservatism a la GWB: ignore dissent. Just pretend it isn't there, and if you have to admit it is there, accuse the dissenters of being too "reality-based." Of course, what Alito also ignores in this matter -- as do the neo-cons and their radical right wing base -- is the fact that he is the dissent. He is the minority, yet he pretends that the majority opinion doesn't exist! I hate that!

I'm sure there will be plenty more to hate about this man over the years and decades to come. Perhaps the most vile part of his minority opinion is in the last paragraph. He sums up as follows: "I share the majority's visceral dislike of the instrusive search of John Doe's young daughter, but it is a sad fact that drug dealers sometimes use children to carry out their business and to avoid prosecution." And it is a sad fact that the right wing can justify any violation of people and rights in the name of advancing their disgusting agenda, no matter the visceral "dislike" they may (or may not) experience. "Torture? Don't like it, but it is a sad fact that sometimes middle east people kill us. A little torture now might save a white person later!"

Supreme Court Nominee

2005-10-31T11:11:00.000-05:00

OK, so a guy, Sam Alito, is nominated. I never heard of him- I thought he might be hispanic. Is he? Big fucking deal if he is. This guy thinks it's fine to strip search 10 year old girls when the search warrant did not so specify. WTF? The police are going to love this guy!!

I can't wait until my civil liberties have withered to a mere hint of the Founder's vision. I love living in a police state. I wonder if jackboots are on sale yet? [What exactly is a jackboot? As it the phrase "jackbooted thug"?]

In other news, Michigan won. Go Blue!!

Don't Despair, Little Chaser!

2005-10-28T15:58:00.000-05:00

THis is from Rawstory.com:

In one of the boldest moves yet in the 22-month investigation into the outing of a covert CIA agent to a handful of top reporters covering the White House, Special Prosecutor Patrick Fitzgerald is extending his probe and pursuing much more serious charges against senior White House officials, specifically President Bush’s Deputy Chief of Staff Karl Rove, lawyers directly involved in the case told RAW STORY Friday.

While many people were left confused by news reports that said Rove wouldn't be indicted Friday, the lawyers said that Rove remains under intense scrutiny and added that Fitzgerald is betting on the fact that he can secure an indictment against Rove on charges of perjury, obstruction of justice, the misuse of classified information, and possibly other charges, as early as next week.

“This investigation is not yet over,” one of the lawyers in the case said. “You must keep in mind that people like Mr. Rove are still under investigation. Rather than securing an indictment on perjury charges against Mr. Rove Mr. Fitzgerald strongly believes he can convince the grand jury that he broke other laws.”

I hope this is right, but who knows?

Our Reader is Leaving for the Weekend

2005-10-28T12:16:00.000-05:00

We know that we have hundreds of readers lurking out there, but I just wanted to let everyone know that our one commenter, whom regular readers know as Sweetie, is leaving for the weekend. Thus, activity at Chaser's Rant will devolve to the standard discouraging banter between Chaser and Kimba. In Sweetie's absence, she invites others to participate freely.

Sweetie is going to Lansing to participate in "Doing Our Own Work: A Seminar for Anti-Racist White Women." Check it out at leaven.org. [I don't know how to put in a link, so you can just type it out your own damn selves!]

I will be home alone, wondering why Rover has not been indicted.

Butch Lawyers

2005-10-28T12:08:00.000-05:00

This will be the official photograph of the founding partners of the CAM law firm.

Sweetie says, "Lesbians across America are going to be in a tither!"

Kim's "Sick" and Scooter is "Toast"

2005-10-28T10:40:00.000-05:00

Kim had the foresight to warn me yesterday that she would be out "sick" today (OK, she is taking a "vacation" day, but whatever) and would not be responding to emails. I guess her point was something like, "Don't tell all your readers that I have been arrested just because I am not writing to you anymore."

Actually, given that she is about to become a fancy public defender, I'm not sure if it would hurt her career to have the masses believe she has been thrown in the joint. In fact, it may enhance her cred with her future clients. On the other hand, I think it is a reasonable guess that most of her future clients will not have had the pleasure of reading this second ode to Kim, as is true for the vast majority of the world's population, so I suppose it will not have any effect on her career whatsoever. Neverthless, out of an abundance of caution, let me reiterate: Kim is not in jail, she is out "sick."

And while I am in full disclosure mode, I should probably point out that Kim actually IS sick, and I probably shouldn't be using quotation marks fecetiously, but I can't help myself because it is my new favorite "hobby." I know it is hard to believe because she actually looks quite robust (and slightly menacing) in the attached photo, but I don't have a picture of her today, which presumably would show her lying on the sofa surrounded by Kleenex boxes and used tissues.

But the point is, really, that today is the day that Cheney's chief of staff, Scooter Libby, is going to be indicted and I am not going to have anyone to talk to about it. For example, who is going to explain to me how a person with the name "Scooter" ended up being one of the chief architects of Cheney's Iraq war for oil, one of the chief proponents of Cheney's lies that led us to Halliburton's war, and one of the chief purveyors of Cheney's treasonous smear-tactics against a prominent critic of the Iraq War? Who, Sweetie, who?? I have all these questions. Here's another, can you picture Cheney saying the word "Scooter"? I bet he calls his chief of staff something more personal, like "Asswipe."

And what about Rover? I don't mean to be mean, but -- could that man be any uglier? His head is like a balloon with a face drawn on (badly) and a pair of glasses stuck to the front. I didn't know they made Texans that look like that. I am guessing Chimpy exempted Rove from the treadmill test of fitness he applied to Roberts. Actually, Rover boy's beady little eyes remind me of the bat I had to swat out of the house a few months ago. I bet he hangs upside down to sleep, too. He will get his indictment in due course.

But in the meantime, who is there for me??

Bush's Colors

2005-10-27T15:45:00.000-05:00

First let me apologize for inflicting this picture of "Chimpy staring into space at Howard University" on my tender readers. I just need to get this off my chest: I don't think Pretzel Boy should ever -- EVER -- wear brown again. It severely compromises his masculinity and whiteyness. I mean, what sort of rich Texas cracker-ass cowboy wears a brown suit with a coordinated stripey tie?? He appears to be treading dangerously close to the threshold of stylish, as in "gay boy got his colors done," and that is certainly not the sort of metrosexual image the "leader" of the "free" "world" should be projecting. At least not in the "world" he "leads."

I suppose this could be a clever ploy by the ever-conniving Karlmeister to distract us all from: (a) the fact that Chimpy got shellacked on the Miers nomination; (b) the fact that Karlie-Q is about to be indicted; and/or (c) the fact that Chimpy has no business appearing at Howard in a cynical attempt to glean "political capital" with African-Americans following the death of Rosa Parks.

Batboy and Sir Robin

2005-10-27T12:20:00.000-05:00

One recent summer night I was sitting on the sofa talking to Nance, hoping we could connect in a conjugal way, when all of the sudden -- despite the summer heat -- she yanked a blanket over herself and screamed, "Bat!" I looked around calmly, seeing nothing, and figured she had either completely lost her mind or else she really didn't want to fool around.

Then I saw it swooping through the room. She continued to scream while I bravely stood up and announced that bats are harmless, it really doesn't want to be in our house, it is more scared than we are, and we just need to relocate it outdoors. Out of an abundance of caution I did, however, grab her large brimmed garden hat, remembering (what I hoped was a myth) that bats can get stuck in your hair (I may not have much, but I am attached to it).

The bat went upstairs and rested on the wall over our bedroom door, which I nimbly closed (along with all the other doors on that floor). But I got a good look at it - big, hairy, and ugly as hell. It looked like a tarantula with wings. I planned to push it into a box; but when I put the broom near it, it suddenly swooped right down toward my face causing me to hit the deck with a manly shriek. I didn't know I could drop that fast!

That's when I decided I was being a little too butch for my britches. I really wasn't cut out to relocate bats. I was reminded of the Alison Bechtel comic where a big butch is hiding under a blanket while the femme is trying to swat at a bat with a broom. The butch is yelling: "Don't let it get on my beer can collection!" Not that Nance was exactly going on the offense from underneath the safety of her blanket, but the garden hat I was sporting did accentuate my inherent fagginess.

So Nance got on the phone to look for a real butch. There was no point in calling Kim since she doesn't answer her phone, and there was no time to e-mail her. At the Oodle's home, Deirdre informed Nance that Nnena was out of town, but over at the Healanor's house we got Heather, another of our macho friends. Nance exclaimed that we were being terrorized by a bat with a 6 inch wingspan. Heather bravely offered to come over (while Eleanor did some crack investigation of bat relocation strategy and risks on the internet).

In the meantime, the bat went back downstairs to the dining room. Remembering that bats are blind as, well, bats, I decided to shut off the lights, thinking it would make it easier for the bat to navigate with its sonar toward the open window. (On the theory, I suppose, that too much light would interfere with its hearing.) It flew around and around the dining room light, until we all got dizzy and then it headed back upstairs and straight through the (now open) bedroom door. Why was the door open, you might ask, since I had already risked life and limb to close it? Apparently, during the bat's brief stay in the dining room, Eamonn the Happy Protector wanted to go to bed, and Nance graciously accommodated him by opening the door. Then she forgot about it. An understandable lapse, given how hysterical she was throughout the proceedings.

I stood in the bedroom looking at the bat perched near the ceiling over my open closet door. Eamonn laid on the bed, oblivious and sleepy. Happy protector, my ass! What sort of labrador lounges on the bed while his master chases after a vicious swooping bird?? And where the hell was Gracie the Lionhearted Springer Spaniel Squirrel Hunter?? And, come to think of it, how about Simon-the-goddammed-cat?

I tiptoed over to shut the closet doors, then to open a window in the bedroom. I calmly entertained Nance's questions, screamed up from the first floor:
Nance, excitedly: "What's it doing??"
Me, whispering: "It's on the wall over my closet."
Nance, anxiously: "Where is it??"
Me, patiently: "It's on the wall over my closet."
Nance, exasperatedly: "What's it doing now??"
Me, stoically: "It's on the wall over my closet."
Nance, desperately: "What are you going to do??"
Me, hysterically: "I don't know! I'm a lawyer not a batboy! Will you stop asking me questions so I can concentrate??!!" (Nance might recount this part differently.)

Nance spoke to Deirdre again on the phone, who informed her that bats are prolific rabies carriers and that we could not under any circumstances sleep with it in our room. I moaned a little. Sex was definitely out.

At that point, while we still waited for Heather to arrive, Nance had the good sense to call a firefighter. Luckily, we have one in the family. "Put on a pair of gloves," Mike, my very butch brother-in-law, told her, "and grab it." Nance, standing at the bottom of the stairs, relayed this to me. As I stood in the doorway watching the bat, I took a moment to consider my strengths, weaknesses, and inherent limitations. Strength: Can write a kick ass legal brief. Weakness: Don't like conflict. Inherent limitation: Terrified of slimy, scary, unpredictable things with beady little eyes. Admittedly, there was nothing slimy about this beast but it was still pretty creepy and certainly shifty. "I'm not going to do that."

Next option: "Get a tennis racket," Mike suggested seriously, "and whack it." Picturing the bloody mess on the tennis racket and my karmic future, I repeated: "I'm not going to do that." Next option: "Get a piece of Tupperware, and slide it in." I quickly visualized the scene: Me on a ladder, eight feet high, with a bad knee and a blind rabid tarantula bat swooping toward my face like Monty Python's evil bunny, while I brandish a piece of Tupperware. "I'm not going to do that, either." Mike: "Well then, call 911. Tell them you have a baby in the house and maybe they'll help you."

Nance made a fruitless call to 911. The very nice dispatcher assured her the fire department couldn't care less about our vicious bat with an8 inch wing span, but related her own story of battling a bat a few months ago in our very neighborhood.

Mike had pointed out, however, that keeping the lights off was creating a cozy little space for it to move in and set up home. He suggested we turn them on so that it would driven to distraction and attracted to the darkness outside the windows. Brilliant! I opened another window at the end of the hallway (anticipating the swooping from end to end thing this time). I turned on the bedroom light, and all the other lights on the 2nd floor. Immediately the cretin started swooping around the bedroom, back and forth directly over Eamonn's head. He didn't appear to notice, but looked up once when he felt the gust of wind from the bat's 10 inch wingspan. Then it came straight at me (or, rather, toward the blanket that I was now covering myself with -- yes, I had stooped that low), then headed down the hallway toward the open window, and it was gone.

Just then, Heather arrived. She brought a round Tupperware, gloves, and a cardboard cutout to hold it inside the Tupperware. She meant business. She told us we were not supposed to chase it, swipe it, or harass it, but rather to let it leave of its own accord. (Is it illegal to harass and annoy bats, even when they have invaded your home? That can't be!) We gladly reported that the situation had been handled (by me). She looked at me a little funny, maybe even a little skeptical-like. I realized I was still wearing Nance's girlie hat. The symbolism wasn't lost on me.

Heather checked the curtains, boldly shaking them. When I remarked (enviously) at how fearless she seemed, she assured me that it was only because the bat was already gone. Satisfied, we tried to go out for ice cream, only to discover the place had already closed. Bad luck. Bad omen?

So, at about 10:30, Nance and I were back to the place we started: Talking on the sofa. She was a little jumpy, wondering what every little scuffling sound was from the dark pile of bags in the corner. I assured her it was just an animal, then turned to head upstairs. Proving the old adage "it's not paranoia if they really are out to get you," the bat came swooping out at me, practically knocking me to the floor again. Nance shrieked and leapt off the couch, and this time the two of us ran screaming and waving our hands into the kitchen (but not before I donned the girlie hat again) while the bat circled the living room. I was distraught. When I went into the dining room to open a window, Nance followed me (thinking I would protect her, I suppose, or perhaps to use me as a shield), but when the bat came after us we ran screaming and waving our hands back into the kitchen, me first and Nance pushing me to go faster -- like Sir Robin from the Knights Who Say Nich (as sung by his minstrel in the Holy Grail, "When danger reared its ugly head, he bravely turned his tail and fled. Yes, brave Sir Robin turned about, and gallantly he chickened out . . .Bravest of the brave, Sir Robin!").

While Nance got back on the phone to Deirdre, letting her know that the bat with a one foot wingspan was still terrorizing us, I picked up the broom I had been carrying around all evening and made a resolution. This bat was NOT spending the night in our house. I gallantly ordered Nance to go upstairs to make sure the doors were closed, and I stood my ground in the kitchen. I watched it circle the living room, then come charging at me in the kitchen. I ducked, turned, and swung. Who knew I had such an accurate swing, especially with my eyes closed? The bat plopped down on the counter, its 1 foot wingspan wrapped around the cup of tea I had just poured for Nance. I waited it out, hoping I wouldn't have to sweep everything off the counter to get it, but it revived and came at me again. This time I kept my eyes open and smacked it toward the open door. As a Buddhist I hoped I could just guide it out, but it fell again, this time on the black mat in the doorway.

Pumped up by adrenaline, panic and sheer desperation, I tried to scoop it out the door with the broom. Unfortunately, the broom handle decided that this would be a good time to unloosen, and the bat stuck to the mat. It took a series of increasingly violent swipes to "flick" it off the carpet and onto the back porch. I slammed the door shut and propped my shoulder against it, trying to catch my breath as I locked it so the bat couldn't force its way back in.

After we were in lockdown I relaxed for a second. Then I remembered Gracie, out in the yard. Too scared to open the back door, I walked around back from the front door to get her. While in the yard, I couldn't help myself from looking for my nemesis; I peered onto the porch to see the shape of the bat still clinging to one of Nance's garden shoes. I said a little prayer that the thing would fly off during the night, so I wouldn't have to face the grim remnants in the morning.

Sure enough, the porch was clear in the morning. Unless it was hiding someplace dark....

Intro/Ode to Kim

2005-10-27T12:10:00.000-05:00

Let me begin with a little background. Kim is not responding to my emails -- for the second day now! -- and I am therefore left here to while away my time waiting for indictments without the warm comfort of echo chamber support. I mean, I can only email my "Cheney is the Were Rabbit Incarnate" missives so many times without a "Halleluia!" before it starts to get a little, well, boring. So I thought, "Hell, if I can't get a validating email response to my unoriginal but nonetheless deeply held beliefs I might as well post my thoughts publicly on a blog that the whole world can ignore!" That'll show her!

Now, it may be that Kim is simply temporarily in communicado and will return to the fold shortly, and then all will be right in the world again. But while I am on the Latin, if she is in communicado let's hope it is because she is in flagrante delicto.

Actually, as an example of how random my thoughts truly are, I just checked my terms and discovered a few errors. First, incommunicado is one word, and it is Spanish, silly, not Latin (although it is derived from Latin, as most good words are). Second, it suggests that the person is without means of communication, rather than simply not responding to my emails, such as if she were being held prisoner, which is almost certainly not the case but not completely out of the realm of possibility. She is a bit of a rabble-rouser, that Kim!

This is a nice segue into my third observation, which is that "flagrante delicto" chiefly means "while the crime is blazing," although I meant it, of course, in the sexual innuendo wink wink nudge nudge sort of way. Therefore it appears that my stream of conscious thoughts, though completely random, were in fact loosely tied, just as Kim may now be. Also, given that she is not married, if she is flagrante delicto (it seems that the "in" is implied) then the crime may indeed be blazing, in which case Kim may truly be incommunicado.

On the other hand, there could be a simpler answer. Could it be that Kim is still out there, not ignoring me but simply detained? Could she be sick? Tired? Sick and tired? All that being said, I feel a little better about her silence and am now questioning the wisdom and need for this blog, after all. But self-doubt and second-guessing are the legs I stand on, so I will press on anyway. Too bad for you.

Kim: you better start talking.

Garbage Cans

2005-10-27T11:44:00.000-05:00

OK, this is my rant. Don't you think that forcing everyone to use the same garbage can is fascistic. Every garbage day, I drive home past the rows of identical black garbage cans in the street. No more individuality. I always feel like I'm in a post-apocalyptic military state or in a meta-Stepford zone. My girlfriend, Sweety, thinks it's "nice" because now no one needs to be ashamed about having an inadequate garbage can. What's an inadequate garbage can? First, they come for the garbage cans . . . That's all I'm saying.