Friday, July 28, 2006

A Thursday for the Ages

Thanks to Barrett’s years of unwavering patronage, Scruffy’s did him a favor. Unfortunate scheduling conflicts with the Bar Exam forced Barrett to miss Wednesday night. Consequently, Scruffy’s held karaoke again on Thursday. To outsiders, this may not sound like a big deal but it really is. George W. once requested Thursday night karaoke, and was not only denied, but brutally stoned, maimed and shat upon for such a suggestion.

Barrett told Scruffy Murphy to jump, and Scruffy Murphy asked how high.

You may not know him as Barrett. Some call him, “Total Eclipse of The Heart Guy” or simply, “That Guy” but either way, if you have been to Scruffy’s within the last 7 years, you know who I'm talking about.

By midnight, news of the Thursday karaoke spread to Piano Man at Treff’s. Throngs of undergrads came from far and wide, leaving decency, decorum and dignity at the door. The air was gravid with energy and history was most certainly made.

Congrats to all those who are graduating tomorrow. You may attend more parties, and you may sing karaoke but never again will it be on a Thursday night at Scruff’s.

Thursday, July 27, 2006

Say It Aint So

I know I’m a day late and a dollar short on this story but I had to add my two cents.

Apparently Lance Bass of N’Sync has joined the ranks of Elton John, George Michael, and the cast of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy with his less than shocking pronouncement that he, the Notoriously-Straight Lance Bass, is in fact a raging homosexual.

In the article, he admits that he attempted to “hide” being gay.

Osama Bin Laden hides; you Lance Bass, you were like the 2-year old that attempts to achieve invisibility simply by covering their eyes. Just because you aren’t servicing your band-mates on stage doesn’t mean you are hiding. I have absolutely no problem with people being gay, but let’s keep it real.

In other equally shocking news, K-Fed married Britney Spears for reasons outside of love, Mike Tyson lost in the first round of his third grade spelling bee, Michael Jackson is in fact a pederast and most shocking of all, I have no life.

From Rivercrest to Bandera Ranch

I know a lot of people spent the last 3 days taking the Bar Exam and that’s cool, but a particular congrats goes out to my girls T & P. It’s all over; time to enjoy yourselves. Bring your sweet asses to my new pool, I’ll supply the umbrella laden drinks and you can purge your brains of everything you spent the last few months learning.

Speaking of new pool . . . I’m moving up in the world.



As of tomorrow, I'll be a proud 1st time homeowner. For readers with acute stalking tendencies, in the picture above, my unit is on the bottom left, partially blocked from view by the fireplace. Like most things I do, this long term investment either proves I'm dumber or more ambitous than I look. No backing out of law school in Waco now.

I’ve taken the liberty of stealing this picture from the developer. I don’t have stairs, but if I did, my condo would look identical to this one: couches, televisions, tables, appliances, lights and all.

House warming party to follow.



Saturday, July 22, 2006

At Least My Mother Loves Me

My post from July 10th, was standing strong at 25 comments until today. For fear that not enough readers go back and search old comments here is lucky #26.

At 2:10 PM, Anonymous said...
“First off, I'm not in law school myself. One of my friends is in school with ya'll and directed me to this blog because this friend knew I would find it amusing.


Second, for you to guess that you're "not quite incompetent" is a big leap and I would like to see what evidence you have to back that up. From what I've read on here such an assumption would be highly debatable.

FYI- Once you get out in the real world and you are working and lower down in the ranks people will be talking shit about you. While you may disagree with these people and the inordinate amount of shit they may talk about you, if you have any interest in keeping your job and not being tortured to death your first year learn to deal with the trash talk and let it roll off your shoulders. This happens in every profession and in every work place. It doesn’t change and just because it’s happening to you doesn’t make you special.

Sounds to me that Jonathon is just whining like a baby and needs to grow up. You’re in law school now. This is supposed to help you transition into the working field while preparing you for the type of work you are going to be doing. While this is a humorous and amusing blog to read, because of what you write about it makes it extremely juvenile and not something I would expect to hear from a law school student. Grow some balls and take it like a man dumbass.”[sic]

Dear Anonymous,

I’ll use this comment to springboard into some truths about myself and law school.

I crashed my parents’ car when I was 4; I put the thing in neutral and rolled down a hill. I have a huge, disfiguring, bowling scar; I was 6 and I got my right hand stuck in the ball return. I pissed myself on one too many occasions after the age of 3.

These are not the makings of a champion. You are correct, I am in fact incompetent.

Sadly, you are wrong about law students; we are an excessively juvenile bunch. People stand around their lockers reciting fart jokes and daily gossip. Granted most refrain from throwing stink bombs, and greasing stairwells, but students write comments on bathroom walls, and pants their classmates in public simply for shits and giggles.

For example, after floating the river, I was standing in a hotel parking lot, getting stuff out of the car when an acquaintance brazenly removed my shorts. My derriere and phallus were exposed to the world. A mother of two demanded the hotel call the police claiming I had offended her children. My classmates laughed, and would continue to laugh had I been hauled to prison.

And asking a law student not to bitch is like asking them not to breathe. We all wear shirts that say, “Baylor Law: Where Fun Goes to Die.” Bitching comes with the territory.

Having said my apologia, the “dumbass” rests to complain another day.

Respectfully Yours,

Jonathan

Friday, July 21, 2006

My Sword in the Literary Pissing Contest

Having finished Anthem by Ayn Rand, I’ve reaffirmed my love for her writing. Rather than giving you the full report I’ll leave you with a quote from the book.

“I know not if this earth on which I stand is the core of the universe or if it is but a speck of dust lost in eternity. I know not and I care not. For I know what happiness is possible to me on earth. And my happiness needs no higher aim to vindicate it. My happiness is not the means to any end. It is the end. It is its own goal. It is its own purpose.”

Thursday, July 20, 2006

One Step Closer to Being Texan

Instead of canoes and kayaks, Texans float rivers on poorly designed inner-tubes with excessively long, sharp, metal, valve stems. The concept is deceivingly simple. Each individual gets his or her own tube, and each cooler gets its own tube. The idea is to (1) drink, (2) float, and (3) not drown.

#1 makes #2 and #3 significantly more complicated.

The first bad decision was going with a bottomless tube for this impromptu expedition down the mighty Guadeloupe. Apparently turtles are reckless, and shallow rocks feel no sympathy for my skinny, vulnerable, white ass. Subsequently, I spent 5 hours getting sodomized by both rocks and surfacing turtles.

I hadn’t been floating for long when we approached some minor rapids. Two girls were standing alongside the river as my comrade and I approached.

Girl: We can only let the beer cooler through if you give us one.
Me: How old are you?
Girl: 13
Me: That’s sad.
Girl: You’re sad.
Me: Probably true, but I’ll see you later

No more than 10 seconds afterward, my sad ass was ejected from the tube, my beer and sunglasses were gone, I was cuddling a rock, and all I could hear was the 13-year olds standing 20 feet away chanting and laughing, “You’re. . . a . . . bitchhhh . . . You’re . . . a . . . bitchhhh.”

I’m not sure if they were yelling at me or my buddy who had sacrificed life and limb to save the cooler but either way, fuck those girls.

I live to blog another day.

Monday, July 17, 2006

“If You Think You Did Well, You Probably Failed”

Prof. Sub-CivPro proctored the exam while the Big Man was off frolicking in the Mediterranean, possibly laying supine in the sand, laughing at the thought of 28 assholes, typing away mercilessly for 3 hours and 40 minutes.

Funny Story: While I was thoughtfully delving into the nuances of proper court my fucking computer died.

The screen went gray, and I subsequently crapped myself.

I started murmuring audibly like a 4-year old girl in search of a lost puppy.

Me: “Where did you go?”
Me: “Oh please come back”
Me: “What happened?”
Me: “Don’t do this to me”
Me: “I promise I’ll write a better answer, I promise”

I walked to the door in search of help. I spotted a lady in the hall:

Me: “Oh God!”
Lady: “Do you need help?”
Me: “Yes . . . Something terrible has happened!”
Lady: “I have a phone number I can call”

And just like that, Ricky was on his way.

I went back to my computer and the screen came back to life. My relief was met with despair as I once again shat myself upon realizing my test lacked words. It was like finding my long-lost puppy, dismembered, and sodomized along the highway of life.

I don’t really know how to describe it. Maybe it’s the fact I’m intoxicated, but I think Ricky has powers.

The moment he walked in the door, my answer magically reappeared. With the confidence of a superhero and the bluster of a demigod he told me things would be ok and I was forced to believe him.

Two hours later, having only finished 2.5 out of 4 questions I realized he was full of shit, but, such is life.

While the rest of you study for the remainder of your finals, I’ll be inebriated. Enjoy.

Friday, July 14, 2006

IRAC is SO Last Week.

Dear Prof. LARC,

Remember that time you stood me up in class and said, “Nobody cares about your opinion”? I hate to say it, but you were wrong. I respected your insights and was militated into disregarding any and all opinions I once maintained; I have subsequently failed Torts.

In my opinion I deserve compensation for your gross misfeasance.

Granted I haven’t yet received my grade but I have a bad feeling.

I don’t want to violate the honor code by divulging test questions, but I was supposed to spend 30 minutes discussing, in my opinion, which Justice in a specific case had a better decision and why?

I thought it was a trick question so I just wrote, “My opinion doesn’t matter” and moved on. Looking back, I don’t think that was a good idea.

Hopefully I learn from my mistakes. When Prof. CivPro asks how the opposing counsel’s motion for summary judgment makes me feel, I’ll be sure to parse out my loathing, fear, and anguish, complete with stylized smiley faces and excessive punctuation.

Respectfully Yours,

Jonathan Swanburg

Thursday, July 13, 2006

Final #2

If you disregard the week of trials and the one or two classes that followed, I haven’t been to Torts in the better part of 4 or 5 weeks. I remember the gist of the innumerable, “interesting” cases but details have long since escaped. Assuming the true / false portion isn’t too abstruse, I think I’ll be ok.

I’ll throw what I know and see what happens.

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Forging Into the Great Unknown

These hand-me-down Tort outlines are as useless as cock-flavored lollypops.

For our Torts final on Friday, this is what we have to know:
Restatements: 8a, 10, 10a, 13-46, 63-85, 158-64, 196-7, 217-229, 281, 283a-c, 284-95, 296, 299a, 328a-d, 431-40
&
Cases: Katko v. Briney, Palsgraf, MacPherson v. Buick, Daubert

Someone forgot to tell the Old-Prof. Torts she was supposed to do Intentional Torts with a hint of Mean Joe Greene and a splash of Evidence.


Tomorrow is the last day of classes and I’m still the only one of Prof. CivPro’s “dear students” to have been shamefully ejected. I’m not sure how special that makes me feel.

Monday, July 10, 2006

I'll Take Criminal Negligence for $200

The CrimLaw final has come and gone. In 12 or 13 weeks, my exam will return like a magical time capsule, complete with a grade, symbolizing my legal competency and life’s worth.

I’m guessing I’m not quite incompetent but not worth all that much.

I’ve been good about not talking about the exam, as have most 1Q’s however, a few 2Q’s have been talking inordinate amounts of shit and I’m not sure why.

The law school is a small place, and sound travels well. If you are in the library, classroom, hall, lounge, or anyplace where someone might hear, please don’t say things you wouldn’t want us to know.

Such things as, “At least we have the 1Q’s to help out our curve” or “The 1Q’s will waste all there time on this when they should be talking about that.” Even if it is true it’s offensive nonetheless.

Most of the 2Q’s are really good people and I’m not saying it’s a majority, or even more than a couple of individuals, but the consensus among the 1Q’s is that we have all overheard at least one conversation in which a 2Q was being an asshole.

I have no problem with people talking trash; I do it all the time. But please use discretion and common courtesy . . . at least until we get our grades back.


In another tragic turn of events, like the Indian space rocket which disintegrated seconds after take off, the long awaited ping pong tournament has officially been killed.

Sunday, July 09, 2006

A.R. + M.R. = ?

Tomorrow is a big day.

Currently I’m tied for the top of my class; tomorrow is my first opportunity to screw that up. After a handful of heart palpitations and a few thousand haphazard key strokes I’ll have completed my first law school exam.

I shouldn’t fail. I paid attention, did the reading, took some notes, and asked a few questions but sadly, so did everyone else.

My advantage comes from the fact I was voted most likely to be arrested. Law students who aren’t worried about spending time in lockup aren’t going to focus on the details nearly as well as I. When Prof. CrimLaw started talking about voluntary intoxication and hot 16-year olds who lie about their age . . . I was right there with him.

CrimLaw . . . 8 AM . . . Lets do this.

Saturday, July 08, 2006

It's A Suprise Party

If there is one thing Texans love more than blowing shit up its patriotism. Combine the two and you have Waco’s favorite festival.

Local officials postponed the national holiday to accommodate for the weather so tonight, the masses gathered outside the law school to watch fireworks and celebrate our nation’s belated birthday. In NY and California it’s customary to admire in silence with the occasional ooo and ahh . . . not in Waco.

One individual had The National Anthem on repeat while others had more eclectic patriotic mixes, but all in all, folks were getting crunked. With or without the music it was an impressive display of pyrotechnics.

When you consider the median family income is about $19,000 you wonder whose idea it was to incinerate 50% of the tax revenue, but, I guess you have to give the constituents what they want.

Waco officials can afford to leave issues like social reform to the liberal despotic terrorists. If they want to get reelected all they have to do is blow shit up and love the Baby Jesus.

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

At Least She Wasn't 12

Prof. LARC thought it was important we read this local article so I’m passing it on to my readers. You will notice the prosecutor in this fascinating case is one Beth Toben.

Basically, a 48-year old, loquacious, transient was sleeping naked with his girlfriend’s 13 year old daughter, but claimed he was incapable of having sex, because of post-prison, parole officer related stress.

This guy with three personalities and shit-loads of kitty porn knocks up the daughter, she has twins, and everyone heads to the clinker for an extended slumber party.

Why would anyone want to do criminal defense? Why am I supposed to care about Donnie Earl Witt, Nikki Dawn, Booster or any other alter ego homeboy might have?

On an aside, the ping pong tournament has been postponed till next Monday, and I think at least one pair of pants were soiled in today’s CivPro.

The Terrorists Have Already Won

My 4th of July was spent in the library, contemplating my imaginary friends from Memoland: Vance Vanderhoff and Chase Carter. Vance OD’d on heroin and I’m supposed to figure out if it’s Chase’s fault for not taking him to the hospital.

Fuck that I say.

If SoTheBearSays can argue that North Atlantic pirates sank the Titanic, I’m arguing Vance’s death was the result of a covert government operation to kill suspected spies and powerful black advocates. Thirty or so pages later I realized I wasn’t supposed to be arguing anything . . . or going over 6 pages . . . or being creative . . . but I used a double spaced, fully justified, size 12, Times New Roman, with 1” margins so I doubt Prof. LARC will mind.

I started with Vance’s death and worked my way backwards in time. I was just getting to the part where the Community Revolutionary Inner-Party Service (later known as the CRIPS) began being infiltrated by the CIA, when fireworks started exploding over the Brazos.

I tried to put aside my cynical views for a moment and appreciate everything this great nation has given me. I thought long and I thought hard but all I could think about were the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure, Article III Section 2 of the Constitution, Title 28 Judiciary and Judicial Procedure, and the 5th and 14th Amendments.

It was then I realized it’s not just Vance my government hates.

Sunday, July 02, 2006

All That's Left is a Star Wars Fetish

If I’m not mistaken, the 1st annual ping pong tournament is tomorrow at 3:30; I have a good feeling about this. My serve has been sharp, my returns tremendous, and I’ve been shaping shots like a magician of sorts. Training with the Chinese national team has done wonders for my backhand.

As a matter of fact, I went up to the school today for the sole purpose of playing ping pong. Whether that is something to brag about remains to be seen but while others were busy cramming for the CivPro exam, which is only 15 days away, I was busy beating Thomas’ ass.

Winning would not add any cool points to the résumé but frankly I don’t care.

I can see it now:

Girl 1: Who is that guy?
Girl 2: That’s the reigning ping pong champ with the blog.
Girl 1: Oh that’s sad.
Girl 2: Yea he should have stopped with the blog.

Speaking of really bad game, I took Gorgeous Undergrad to the movies last night to see The Devil Wears Prada and as we were leaving the theater:

Her: What did you think of the movie?
Me: It was a lot different than the book, especially the ending.
Her: You read the book?
Me: I mean . . . wait, it’s not like I read the book or anything it’s just I heard about the ending and . . . well, yea I read the book but it’s because of my ex girlfriend.
Her: Huh, I didn’t know any guys read the book.
Me: Yea it was a special edition with a lot of naked pictures. Let’s go home you look tired.

UPDATE:
I was mistaken. The tournament is the 5th, 6th & 7th. I shall practice till then.

Saturday, July 01, 2006

My Newest Conclusion

Maybe it’s not necessarily a blog but law school in general that kills ones game. Take for example a conversation I had with Haley:

Haley: Someone suggested that i attempt to pay for law school via phone sex.

Me: That’s a thought, what did you say?

Haley: I am involved in phone sex but it is actually law student specific. I say things like: Where do you want me to put this motion for summary judgment? How does it make you feel when I file this lawsuit with the court on the last day of the statute of limitations? Is that an adequate service of process or are you just happy to see me?

Me: Ummm.

Haley: Law and sex......they don’t really go together.

Me: Ummm.

Haley: That is all. Back to studying

Answer to the Age Old Question

Does keeping and maintaining a blog constitute a self-inflicted cock block?

I’ll expand on my story from the other night, update the details and hopefully shed some light on the quandary.

Two posts ago I ended with:
“I moved on to the next girl, told her I was a world famous soccer player and went from there.”

That’s not entirely true. There was an undergrad girl and she was gorgeous. I told her a clever assortment of full truths, half-truths and non-truths, all while Barrett Lindsey sang Boys 2 Men in the background. She fell for my tricks and invited Thomas and I back for an after party. Things went well from there.

She Facebooked me accordingly.

The next day we had a conversation:

Her: My friends said they read your blog.
Me: Oh shit.
Her: No, they said you’re funny.
Me: Well you might not think it’s very funny.
Her: Well I’ll read it and let you know

Several hours later:

Her: I don’t want to sound like a stalker but I read your blog.
Me: Oh Shit
Her: You are an amazing writer.
Me: So you’ll sleep with me?
Her: Not unless we get married, but you can take me to the movies.

In conclusion, the blog will not get you laid.

I shouldn’t really be writing about her knowing she’ll eventually read this but maybe she’ll think I’m one of the scapegrace bad boys of the blogging world . . . or not.