The night of the communist

Bravo, bravo (insert amorphous cheers here)

So I watched a spot o RNC this evening and was amused and somewhat concerned. I’ll make this short and brief and let the minions hash out the details.

As I have mentioned in the past its high time this country and the uneducated populous currently attending the RNC and having this City spending millions of dollars to make sure the castle doesn’t get stormed learn history.

I think by most standards and viewpoints McCarthyism was not a highpoint in our nation’s history. Apparently I was wrong. This evening both the terminator and educator both made countless comparisons, analogies, whatever you want to call them, between Communism and terrorism.

Are we really that dumb?

Oh, by the way, I am bad with math but follow this, I think it’s kind of like a geometrical proof:

1. September 11, 2001 = UBL & AQ
2. UBL & AQ = Terrorists
3. SH = UBL/AQ (take your pick)
4. SH = September 11, 2001
5. War in Iraq = War on Terrorism
6. Against war in Iraq = Against war on terror
7. Against war on terror = terrorist
8. Terrorist = Anti-American
9. Anti-American = Communist

maybe I’m just crazy.

The blogger is back.

The last couple of weeks have been remarkably hectic. Here it is in a nutshell: my laptop was stolen, then recovered; a car was towed, then recovered; I was supposed to move into a new apartment on the 1st, now delayed; I sleep on a couch; I started school; I live out of a carry on bag; the post-office has continually screwed up my mail; my financial aid department can’t get anything right and…I can’t wait for it to all be over. Great, so my complaining is over for now—it could be worse.

I spent some time in California recently as many of you may well be aware. Aside from the overall chaos associated with my bi-annual visit, I solidified what I like about the place: friends and family. I still could do without all the obscenely large trucks, the vapid conversations and the fact that I have to drive everywhere—the driving thing quite constrained my ability to imbibe.

The ineptitude of the New York Law School financial aid department means that I am going to be confined to the city for the affliction commonly known as the RNC. Question, why in the hell are they throwing a party in a city where most people really don’t like them? The expected madness is humorous albeit somewhat disconcerting. For example, my institution will close for a portion of the week—just in case.

On a side note, blogger rhymes with jogger—someone I am not. Personally, I’d rather swim.

So I am back at school as I mentioned earlier. A week is done and many more still ahead of me. According to most accounts, the second year is supposed to be easier than the first. So far it does not feel that way, instead it seems like I have more work than ever. The upside is that I enjoy and am genuinely interested in the majority of my classes.

Miss Kitten just told me that this is the soundtrack of now.

Back at the escuela was an experience in shell shock. It felt as if I had never left and the rote dullness of undesired social interaction again reared its ugly head. I am coming to realize that not only is this entire experience an exercise in mental gymnastics and the tuning of my previously thought fine cerebral machine, but it also has a social component. The practice of politics has always been something that serves to leave me feeling disenfranchised and at the same time compels addiction. But politics has always been in the realm of the theoretical for me and when I wanted to escape I could, there was always that option--dealing with it in the microcosm of a school replete with overachievers and egoists presents no viable option for escape.

So I guess the second prong of a legal education teaches one how to interact with all sorts of individuals one finds unappealing. To be redundant, it’s interesting. Take for example the exercise of exclusion. Say you don’t want to play the politic game, don’t feel like hanging out with the same people all the time and aren’t willing to ally yourself with one clique or the other, two things happen. First you are labeled as aloof or a nomad and then the second prong of the treatment is that the very gossip you were attempting to avoid starts to find you in ways you thought unimaginable. That’s when it hits you that you are dealing with a bunch of silver-spooned children who have never really lived life, who haven’t had to know the pains and pleasures of responsibility and who really don’t have much perspective on anything besides themselves. The other option is that you play the game, you let your guard down and do the things that are required, but the same problems haunt you. Inevitably it seems impossible to win; I guess the key is attempting to find some amicable middle ground between the two. Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated and if you are finding it hard to relate, think of high-school—it is pretty much the same thing, just with bigger books.

The encouraging part of the whole experience is that there are good people around who seem to be navigating the same morass with alternating degrees of success—those are the people I chose to associate with most.

I just realized that this has become a most long post, which seems to have some cohesiveness to it. I am disappointed. If I write this much I usually prefer that it be a discombobulated mess with keys to solving the mystery in it. I guess that will have to wait for the next.

be back in business soon

it appears that my laptop has been recovered...

new posts will start soon. sorry for the delay.

having your life stolen is a funny feeling.

so the laptop was stolen the other day, and i hope the person who did it dies a slow and painful death.

This really sucks

back at Diedrichs, my old home

I am aware that I haven’t been keeping up well on the blog as of late. If you are one of the few people that actually reads this then you might care…or you might not.

Here is the update. I am in California on vacation. The amazing thing is that it actually has been a vacation and I have done not much of anything. This is a blessing and a problem. The things that I have to get done have not been accomplished. My mind, however, is empty and that is quite pleasant.

I had a bbq the other night at la place du rents

More later, I am suddenly bored.

Call it the mile high and middle of America post.

Wow it feels like it has been a while, busy last few days. Right now I am trying to answer the question that Biggie keeps spitting at me; “What’s beef?” Apparently I should be watching a videotape of my favorite CBS shows. Let me explain two interrelated things. First, I prefer writing at you than some communal television—I think that this is well documented. Secondly, I don’t have any favorite shows on CBS.

I can’t wait to get to Dallas—why? So I can leave. I really am not all that found of the TX or the TXns for that matter. You can call it Regional Racism if you must—some do.

The bottom line is that I should be reading pages upon pages of first amendment cases now. I cannot just seem to get motivated though; that and I lost the cap to my high-liter. It is made by Bick, you know.

I need about 20 new CD’s. If you want to contribute to the fund to me purchasing more music,, please contact me directly via that Bell guy’s invention—as of two days ago I am now officially homeless. I have no address. I have no place to call my own. I am a wanderer sans direction, floating along the nimbus clouds of shelters and soup kitchens. I spend my days hording blankets for the coming winter months and taking advantage of public toilets for a warm summer shower in the sink. Children cringe at my appearance and respectable ladies want nothing to do with my forlorn existence. I was once a first rate food addict, a connoisseur of all kinds of gastronomical delights. I am now the gastronome of the gutter and garbage heap.

But I fear not for the future is with me. My mockudrama does have an ending that is already written. The problem with the ending is the terror. It is always the goddamn terror these days. I now digress from my normally nonsensical musings.

So yesterday I wake up around 1 and hear cheers and other assorted sounds of raucous. I can’t tell you how unalarmed I was. Remind me to tell you the story about the suicide lightning. Anyways, I turn on the TV when I realize that the glorious racket is that of the NYC bicycle races. I know full well that the start finish line is only two blocks east, but I am in a borrowed apartment,, one that has a TV, so I turn on the TV. This was a mistake for the simple fact that I didn’t get off the couch for the next 5 hours or so.

Back to the race, I am watching it with a mild attentiveness until it gets closer to the finish. So, the finish is nearing and then the coverage cuts away to my man, Tom Ridge, master of the terror alerts. Surprise, surprise—the terrorists are coming, everybody grab your musket (pardon the double entendre/phallical euphemism.) This is of course the first time the terror system has been used as such with a specific areas raised and others not. Here comes the flight cowtendant. The big surprise is that the terrorists want to blow up the NYSE. NO SHIT!! Well at least now we know—I have no idea why that would be a target but I can tell you that I am none to pleased with it, considering it’s stone throw proximity to my apartment.

I have decided that I am going to fight the terrorists. I will…become…a…superhero. For confidentiality reasons I am not unable to reveal my identity to you, unless of course we become secret lovers.