Sunday, August 31, 2003

Smallville Soundtrack

Admittedly, it was an impulse purchase I normally wouldn't go for, but I have thoroughly enjoyed it. The Flaming Lips, Six Pence None the Richer, and Ryan Adams are all quite talented. But what steals the show for me is Eva Cassidy's version of Cyndi Lauper's Time After Time. It's much slower, with a sadder intonation than Lauper's. It's tragic that Cassidy died too young in her career to get the exposure her lovely voice deserves.
Look it Up Before You Write It

The word you are looking for is "epiphany," not "chimera." There is a difference. You want to write like Kerouac, you need to get the words correct. It would also help to drink yourself blind, shoot heroin through your eyeballs, and have zero literary talent--a few doses of thorazine might help, too-- but that's more advice from me than you actually asked me for.

(Whoo. Thanks for listening to that. I'm working on my tact. That was version B of the advice I gave. Version A was much nicer and more constructive.)

Friday, August 29, 2003

A Counter Encounter

I strolled into Waldenbooks today and made my usual eclectic purchases. (I've made a few friends of the staff their because I don't buy the usual Harry Potter and "nekkid women" magazines they are used to. Apparently that Winston Churchill biography had been sitting on the shelf quite awhile. Anyhow..) The checkout girl plopped my debit card back on the counter and....yeah, okay..she was about 24, dark hair tied in a pony tail with some loose strands that fll over her wire rim glasses and into her face. Curvy, yes. Cute, yes. Satisfied?

If I may continue. she plopped my debit card on thr counter. As I reached for it she was putting the receipt down for me to sign. Her pen gave me a near perfect Nike Swoosh just under the knuckles.

"Ooh, I'm sorry. I wrote on you." she said, apologetically.

"Don't worry. It's not the worst thing a girl has ever done to me." I joked.

She laughed awkwardly. I'm thinking that wasn't really a decent joke to tell. i certainly have a way with cute girls, let me tell you.

On an even worse note, Marvel Comics (man does not live by literature alone) has raisd its standard cover price from $2.25 to $2.99. Yeesh. Does anyoe really wonder why they are only selling 2/3 of what they were selling 5 years ago?

Thursday, August 28, 2003

Physical Challenge

Put your right foot on the floor and start moving it in a circle clockwise. Now, with your right hand, begin drawing a "6" in the air. Your right leg will start moving counterclockwise. Try to keep that from happening.

Wednesday, August 27, 2003

Status Report

Conflict of Laws has been dropped in favor of Criminal Pretrial Procedure. I expected Conflict to be difficult for sure, but did not expect it to be entirely theoretical and incomprehensible. I'm foing to be a South Carolina lawyer. They don't care about theories down there--just results.

This ten hour gap between classes three days a week is going to be harder than I thought it would be. It doesn't help that I have such large reading assignments to do as well. Interesting. You see, comventional wisdom is that the first year they scare you to death, the second year they work you to death, and the third ear they bore you to death. Right now, I feel like I'm smack dab in the middle of my second year. I'm ready to be bored a little bit now.

Monday, August 25, 2003

John Derbyshire on Christianity

Affronts and Provocations. John Derbyshire (a recently added favorite commentator of mine) examines Alabama Chief Justice Roy Moore's Ten Commandments monument and the current axe grinding the political Left has for conservative Christianity.

Sunday, August 24, 2003

To Punctuate The Summer

Nuclear
(Ryan Adams)

This is where the summer ends
In a flash of pure destruction, no one wins
Go nuclear. Nuclear.
The violets in my eyelids goin' red
Sentimental geek
Shut up and go to sleep

The calm, the beach and the remains
Of the bathing suits and Porsches all in flames
Go nuclear. Nuclear.
When I saw her and the Yankees lost to the Braves
Sentimental geek
Shut up and go to sleep

Give me an answer
(5x)
The End of the Line

Today is the last day of summer vacation. Classes will start tomorrow. Now, I'm miffed that my vacation is over, because I know I will be constantly working from now until the end of May with very little time off. A the end of all that, I have to uprot my life, go back to South Carolina, and face the bar exam. I'm happy to finally reach that poinr, but geez, the hurdles thatare still left to jump ove before I successfully pass the thing.

The thought has rumbled in the back of my mind wondering if I'm going to have a delayed reaction to my Mother's death. It's been easier since I haven't lived anywhere near her in years, but now I'll be going back there knowing there are no moreroots for me in my home town. Now, I have no intentionof ever living in my hometown again, but it is strange to know that era of my life is completely over, and i couldn't return to it even if I wanted to.

The complications of your life don't change as you get older, they just get more costly.

Friday, August 22, 2003

The Unholy Tale of "Greasy" Reese Witherspoon

Kevin Smith v. Reese Witherspoon. Many of my closest friends realize I am quite fond of Reese Witherspoon. A few of my cloest friends know that I like comic books, too. One of those who overlaps those two categories thought I'd like this link. It's the story behind Kevin Smith's grudge against dear, sweet Reese. Now, i don't care much for Kevin Smith. He's a vulgar, untalented hack as far as his movies go. But I did enjoy his short run on Daredevil a few years ago. Nevertheless, he has attacked my baby, and that is unforgivable.

Kevin Smith: you, sir, are a ninny.

Thursday, August 21, 2003

Getting Oriented

The Regent Journal of International Law staff (Articles editor, that would be me.) held its annual research library tourfor new members. We have a good crop of applicants this year, so hopefully things won't wind up like last year when two or three people did just about all the work. I haven't yet decided which of the members I am going to request to work on editing articles yet, but I did meet two who had promise.

It is tough to sit three hours of touring computer systems and bookshelves, but at least we all know where the Helsinki Accords are, as well as the apanese War Crime transcripts from the late 1940's--in the orginal Japanese no less. You never know when that might come in handy, no? I restrained my cyncal side, amnd did not tell the the new recruits that regardless of what legislation the United Nations passes or any treaties signed, international law is whatever the United States and Great Britain say it is.

I have to pull the sources and make some changes on my "comfort women" article before it can be published in November. Grr..way too much work for such a short period of time.

I slipped into 1L orientation and ate lunch with them. (Never turn down a free lunch, that's my advice to you.) Almost fifty of last year's 1L class didn't make it to the second year, so boy these ladies and gentlemen don't know what they are in for. I did meet one from Conway, though. Nice to see that we South Carolinians are taking over.

Monday, August 18, 2003

Chances Are

Summer is rapidly coming to an end. It’s awfully melancholy, as this is the last summer in which I will be a returning student. I’m not terribly saddened by the fact, so maybe melancholy isn’t the appropriate word. Let’s say I recognize the end of a period of my life that I will look back on as the best years of my life.

Now, there is a melancholy thought. I knew it would pop up somewhere aptly.

I have a year to figure out hat’s next. Unfortunately for any soul who might wander across this page, I’ve dealt with this much more specifically in my personal journal. Yep. Names and places in that. Suffice to say, I have the same thought and concerns of any single 26 year old about to be cast into the cruel, cruel world for the final time.

The only thing I truely wish for myself definitely is chances. Chances, kiddo, are the only thing in the world you really need.
Add Another to the Roster

I devirginized Peter to the darkly funny, edgy, and nihilistic wonder that is Donnie Darko. He is another happy convert to the movie. Thus, my work here is done. For now.

Saturday, August 16, 2003

Lucky Jamie

On the other hand, my new roomate moved in yesterday. This morning I woke up to the wonderful smell of sausage and eggs cooking and heard strands of Aerosmith's Walk This Way blaring out just right from the CD player. This is much better than what I just spent the last year tolerating. I may have hit the roomate jackpot.
Lucky Lindy?

DNA Tests for Linbergh Paternity Three German's are claiming the legendary aviator Charles Lindberg is their father. DNA tests are planned to prove their claim. The men say they don't want any money, just for the truth to be known. So in leiu of a big fat check from the Lindberg estate, these guys just want the world to know their mother slept around with foreigners she barely knew and that an American icon was a philanderer. Gee guys, thanks for nothing.


Friday, August 15, 2003

In the Black

Question: Where was Mayor Bloomberg when the lights went out?

Answer: In the dark.

(Okay, maybe I didn't move on to more important things.)
Fair and Balanced

There, my liberal amigos. I participated in your inconsequential protest against Fox News. However, "Fair and Balanced" is a registered trademark for the use of Fox News, so Al Franken is going to have to prove Fox isn't fair and balanced in order to win the lawsuit. Maybe if they change the venue to San Francisco or anywhere in Massachusetts.

Now, on to more important things.

Thursday, August 14, 2003

Le Cirque du California

A screaming Greek harpy, a black midget, a power-hungry Austrian millionaire, a porn lord in a golden wheelchair and a dangerously over-endowed blonde with a faintly erotic name. Is this an election campaign or a reunion of James Bond movie villains?

Can't tell the players without a scorecard.

Wednesday, August 13, 2003

Tenenbaum's In

State Superintendant of Education Inez Tenenbaum has decided to run for Sen. Hollings seat. Now that old Fritz is retiring, the Democrats are terrified of losing the seat to the GOP. Tenenbaum is about the best chance they have, as she is one of th few Democrats who hasn't been beaten statewide at least once. Of course, he time is coming. We South Carolinians don't are how liberal she is when her only job is to act as school marm for our next to worst in the nation public school system. As a Senator, her pro-abortion, socialized medicine, big government stances just won't cut it. She's also just enforsed Howard Dean for president in a state that gave Dubya his second highest win percentage behind Texas and where his approval ratings are only slightly less than Jesus'.

And, oh yeah. Who's going to be on the top of the presidential ticket in 2004? Yep. Sorry, Inez. We hardly knew ye.

Tuesday, August 12, 2003

A Rose By Any Other Name

Pete Rose Back in 2004 Has Major League Baseball agreed to reinstate Pete Rose and even let him in the Hall of Fame like he deserves? The front office currently denies they have, but I'm hoping so.
Once More into the Breach

Today i bought my textbooks for the Fall. It ran me almost $400. Ouch. I also scoured around career services and various other sources for contacts in the legal departments of BB & T, First Union, and Coca Cola, plus the State Department's job data bank. Hopefully all that won't be necessary. Tonight I'm going to type up a cover letter for my application to the South Carolina Commission for the Aging. That's the job I'd currently like to have. I'm sending along my article, too, even though I haven't heard any answers on whether it will be published.

This is going to be a nail biter of a year.
Them's Fighting Words

I bought the Fight Club DVD on a whim this weekend. I watched it in the middle of Saturday night—an awfully appropriate time, considering Edward Norton’s character is suffering from chronic insomnia, too.

It was an interesting movie. I’m not sure that I like it, but it did stir up some thoughts, and that’s always the mark of a good movie. Since there is a big plot twist and revealing details would spoil it, I won't go intoa synopsis of the movie. I certainly didn’t see the plot twist coming, but upon further inspection I’m surprised I didn’t notice the clues interspersed throughout.

I can’t say I identify with either Jack or Tyler. I don’t think I’m searching for meaning as much as i am regretting things I’ve already lost. I do feel good (if that’s the word) that I’ve got enough Tyler in me to not be as constrained as Jack. You know what? Watch the movie, and this entry won’t seem like a waste of bandwidth.

Sunday, August 10, 2003

After the Thrill is Gone
(Eagles)

Same dances in the same old shoes
Some habits that you just can't lose
There's no telling what a man might lose,
After the thrill is gone

The flame rises but it soon descends
Empty pages and a frozen pen
You're not quite lovers and you're not quite friends
After the thrill is gone, oh,
After the thrill is gone

What can you do when your dreams come true
And it's not quite like you planned?
What have you done to be losing the one
You held it so tight in your hand well

Time passes and you must move on,
Half the distance takes you twice as long
So you keep on singing for the sake of the song
After the thrill is gone
After the thrill is gone

You're afraid you might fall out of fashion
And you're feeling cold and small
Any kind of love without passion
That ain't no kind of lovin' at all, well

Same dances in the same old shoes
You get too careful with the steps you choose
You don't care about winning but you don't want to lose
After the thrill is gone
After the thrill is gone
After the thrill is gone, oh
After the thrill is gone

Saturday, August 09, 2003

Testing, Testing

I thought the MPRE was much more difficult than the practice tests I had been taking in preparation. There were some straight foeward confidence builders scattered throughout, bt many questions were some of the most convoluted and improbable scenarios imaginable. It this test weren't so important, it would have been amusing just to read those. As it was, I could only think, "Ah, ha. Those examiners are mocking me!"

Regardless, results will be mailed in four weeks.

Friday, August 08, 2003

It's All About the Ethics

The MPRE Exam is tomorrow afternoon. I've been studying the Rules of Professional Responsibility all day (minus the hour or so I analyzed the California gubernatorial fiasco below. Some things you've just gotta do.) Anyway, wish me Godspeed or pick up your voodoo doll in my likeness and have that hatpin ready--depending on which which side of my fan club you happen to be on.
So Arnold's Running

No, not Gary Coleman. The other Arnold. Oh, wait. They *are* both running. Nevermind.

I think now it doesn't matter who the governor is after all the sturm und drang is over. Whoever is it is going to solve California's most immediate ills by at least trying to engineer a big tax increase.

Let's recall some history here. In 1966, an actor who had never before held public office convinced voters in this state that we had an economic crisis. The budget was technically balanced but Ronald Reagan argued that this had been accomplished by accounting tricks; that things were really much worse and that incumbent Pat Brown had to be ousted to save the state from total financial disaster. Voters agreed. And when Reagan took office, he immediately went for a massive tax increase -- the largest ever in the history of any state. Here's Reagan biographer Lou Cannon describing this.

Reagan loathed tax increases and had promised during the campaign to "squeeze, cut and trim" state government. But Reagan realized immediately that no amount of budget cutting could make up for the shortfall in revenues. Two days after he became governor in 1967, he embraced a tax increase, saying that he did not want to wait "until everyone forgets that we did not cause the problem -- we only inherited it."

It worked. The state's financial problems were quickly wiped out. In fact, some said, it worked too well since California wound up with a surplus. Reagan took credit for shrewd fiscal management but he really did not "squeeze, cut and trim." He'd just raised taxes more than necessary. It was later charged (and I don't recall much argument on this point) that it would have been much better for the state if Reagan had asked for a smaller tax increase...and then another later, if necessary. He didn't do this, some said, because he figured he could blame one tax increase on his predecessor but not two.

Okay, tell me why whoever winds up being governor -- Arnold, Cruz, John, Larry, Angelyne, Gary, whoever -- won't do this. If Davis is booted out, it will more or less become accepted fact that he was an inept governor. Why wouldn't any successor solve their most immediate problem by declaring, "Because of the mess that jerk Gray Davis made, I have no choice but to ask for the Gray Davis Memorial Tax Increase"? And if Davis somehow retains the job, he can say, "Because of the expense of that stupid, unwarranted recall, we need a tax increase. Send your complaints to Darrell Issa." That would be so much easier than trying to solve the problem with a hundred smaller measures, battling over each one and whittling away the deficit a dime at a time.

Reagan managed to prove that tax increases don't affect your popularity if you can blame them on someone else. He never got blamed for that one. This will dawn on whoever winds up running the state after the circus leaves town.

Thursday, August 07, 2003

What Old Movie Star Are You?

frank sinatra
Frank Sinatra,
You are everybody's best friend, you love crowds and are kind to all that are kind to you. You also have Mob ties, and can have any mouthy jerk whacked. So watch it, Buster.


What old Movie Star are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Wednesday, August 06, 2003

Re: California Recall Vote

Dick Rosengarten, editor and publisher of California Political Week, told CNN Wednesday that the California race was drawing so many candidates it was in danger of becoming a farce.

Ladies and gentlemen, the understatement of the century.
Old War Horses

No Surrender: Japanese Holdouts The last Japanese soldier surrendered in 1980. He should have waited a little longer. That's around about the time the Japanese were taking over the United States.

Seriously, though, If Yokoi's hold-out comrades dying in the 1960s is any indication, how many Japanese hold-out soldiers died before they were found? Combined with fighting the locals, animal attacks, infections, etc, there are the risks of typhoons, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions and floods throughout the entire Pacific Ocean. There may have been hundreds of soldiers who died anonymously.

Tuesday, August 05, 2003

Hurricane Sheila

This is hypersensitivity at its finest: Hurricanes have been named after women since 1953 and also after men since feminists made a big fuss about that in 1979. Representative Sheila Jackson Lee of Texas is now upset that this year’s crop of hurricane names include Larry, Wanda, and Juan but doesn’t include names such as Antwone, Keisha, or Jamal. It’s good to know that things are going so ducky in this country right now that a member of the United States House of Representatives has nothing better to do with her time than whine that hurricane names aren't more diverse.

Monday, August 04, 2003

Well, It's About Time

Sen. Ernest Hollings to Retire His seat will be an easy pick up for the GOP. The only two Democrats who have expressed interest in running are Secy. of Education Inez Tenenbaum and Columbia Mayor Bob Coble. The general response to the two of them is, "Isn't she that loony woman?" and, "Who?" respectively. As a side note, one of my old classmates and College Republican cohorts from the University of South Carolina is the campaign manager for Charleston real estate developer Thomas Ravenel's Senate bid on the GOP side.

Usually, former Gov. Carroll Campbell's endorsement meant the GOP nomination was in the bag. Now that he is feeling the full effects of Alteizmers, his influience will not be a factor. One would assume he would endorse U.S. Rep. Jim DeMint. I, however, expect former Atty. General Charlie Condon (cousin of a current classmate. Smal world, no?) to be our next senator.

Sunday, August 03, 2003

The Three Most Important Things in Life

Money


At the time my stepfather died in 1997, he owned two video stores. A mall one three blocks away from our house and a larger one in the next town over. During summers while I was in college, I worked at the larger one. The commute was worth it, since I would have more responsibility and thus make more money. But during high school, I was stuck in the smaller one.

The store only had about 1,000 movies to rent, which may sound large, but is not a great selection. Nevertheless, when you have access to tons of free movies, you will suddenly have oodles and oodles of friends. More than you ever knew you had. Or wanted to have, for that matter.

One day in the spring of 1995, one of my close friends, Benji, did show up. We’d been friends since the Third Grade and were virtually inseparable up until the Seventh Grade, when he decided he’d had enough of that Old Time Religion and went to public school.

He was a bold soul. He worked at a country club and did a comedy routine on every open mike night. The applause went to his head, so he eventually dropped out of school and tried to join an improv group in Atlanta. When that fell through, he got a GED and tried culinary school. He finally wound up working at a video poker casino and traveling with a Civil War reenactment troupe. Confederate, of course.

He showed up at the store in the middle of the week, which happens to be the slowest time. He knew I was about to leave for the University of South Carolina in a few weeks and wasn’t particularly likely to be back.

“We’ve both got to do something monstrous before we die!” which exactly translated meant before we have to grow up. He eyed the poker machine in the corner of the store.

Now, I hate gambling. I think it is an incredibly foolish thing to do. Either wealthy people waste money gambling or poor people, who can least afford it, have to do without because they’ve wasted needed money on their habit. It’s not something I’ve ever had much urge to engage in. Naturally, Benji would consider it a personal victory to get me to flip that switch.

Benji always had this skill to loosen up and do things my natural fuddy-dudness won’t allow. I figured that no one was around, so what if I splurge a bit? I’m about to head off into the big city without ever taken any big risks in life.

I pulled out an Andrew Jackson and put it in the slot. Benji grinned like he’d just discovered photos of Bill Gates with a fourteen-year-old hooker as I slid unto the stool. I pushed the hit button and the lights blared and the buzzers sounded as the display started rolling.

One cherry. My eyes widened.

Two cherries. His did, too.

Three cherries. I had doubled my money.

Benji whooped and hollered. “I knew you’d like it! Smelling that green! You’re a river boat gambler at heart.”

I got off the stool, without saying a word. I walked behind the counter and filled out a receipt for forty dollars, and flipped the machine off, then on again as you do after a final payout. Benji was flabbergasted.

“What are you doing? You won!” he exclaimed.

“I know, and I’m taking it.” I told him.

“But you were winning.”

“I never tempt Fate. She’s meaner than I am.” I replied.

Nevertheless, Benji had witnessed a crack in the old straitlaced Palmetto and has never let me forget it—or the fact that most people believe I sleep in a necktie (It’s not true, darn it!) I get him back, of course.

How many gamblers do you know who’ve doubled their money and still kept a perfect record?

Love


When I got to the University of South Carolina in the fall of 1995, I was as green as the fairways at Augusta National. Loud music blared everywhere, girls were mini skirts and halter-tops—I was in a whole new world and I didn’t quite know what to make of it. For all my bravado, I was a na├»ve country boy.

Naturally, I fell in love the second day of classes.

It was an ancient history course in a huge auditorium. I sat right at the back door so I could avoid the huge crowd that would inevitably barrel out as though the end of class went the hounds would be released and hot on everyone’s tail. Shortly before class began, she walked in.

Even though it was late August, she wore a pink turtleneck sweater and a mini skirt that showed off her wonderful legs. But that wasn’t the first thing I noticed as she plopped her books down and smiled across the aisle at the first person she saw—me. No, it was her baby blue eyes. Clear oceans that one could get lost in if he didn’t have an anchor to the real world.

She had a drink with her, and during class she casually sipped on the straw as she turned the pages of her textbook. It was the most erotic thing I had ever seen. We didn’t have stuff like that back on the farm, kiddies.

Not one to give in to silly whims, I said nothing to her. But fate kept putting us in the same place. We’d share an elevator or wind up at the Hamburger Grill at the same time with our entourages. One day she finally said, “You know, we run into each other all the name and I don’t even know your name.”

I thought I would freakin’ die!

So I told her, and she said she would remember it. I had known hers from day one, but that was irrelevant, wasn’t it? Anybody?

I never told her I was infatuated that semester, but when we wound up in the same class again the next semester, I took it as an omen. She didn’t have a boyfriend, or at least she never spoke of one. I thought that Valentine’s Day would be a perfect time to, if nothing else, introduce a closer friendship. If she wasn’t going to get a Valentine’s gift anyway, what was the harm in a friend thinking about you?

Oooooooh booooy!

I had a single rose delivered to her dorm room with a best wishes message and my phone number. She called while I was out, and got my
roommate instead. I wish I had known that before I ran into her, since specifics were a bit hard to come by.

“Did you like the rose?” I asked.

She was happy she had a secret admirer. That made my heart soar. “Yes, but how did you know about it?”

There are times when you can identify the exact moment that your heart shatters. This happened to be one of those times.

“I sent it.” I had never seen so beautiful a flower wilt so fast. She had forgotten my name, I though her admirer was someone else. She tried to be nice anyway.

“Thank you. I was having a bad day, and that cheered me up tremendously.”

Uh huh. I can tell.

“You’re welcome. Anytime I can help you, let me know.” I said, and strolled. She avoided me for a long time there until she realized I didn’t mean to hurt her or place her in an awkward situation.

Eventually, we did become good friends. She ran both of my campaigns for the Student Senate, as well as worked for Governor Beasely’s reelection campaign. She’s now married to a medical student (Did I mention how often i fall or gold diggers? Must have slipped my mind.) and a lawyer in Charleston

I’ve thought about that silly stunt long and hard in the years since then. It’s made me wonder if our friendship would have developed if I hadn’t done something so stupid, or if it would have blossomed into romance had I been I little less Duddly DoRight and more plain old me. Not that i actually learned anything from that, mind you.

(Eternal) Insurance


My roommate my freshman year of college was a stagehand in the spring semester for the theatre department. He got in free to all the plays that he was required to see as part of a theatre appreciation class, which saved him quite a buck or two.

One night he came back and said he had seated another student who invited my roommate to visit his church. He asked if I wanted to come along. My fish out of water feeling hadn’t yet evaporated, and I thought that some “hellfire and brimstone” preaching might remind me of home, so I agreed to go.

That Sunday, the pews were filled, mostly with young people. I assumed that the church had a large campus outreach program. The hymnals were relatively modern. No Old Rugged Cross or Amazing Grace, like I’m used to, but I knew theology gets a little watered down as you go into bigger towns.

The sermon was so trite and feel good as to be almost New Age. Very little was read from the Bible at all. I felt like the flapdoodle I was observing was better suited for an infomercial than a church service.

My roommate told me they wanted to hold a Bible study in our dorm room the following week. I thought that was a great idea. One on one study can get to the meat of theology. I readily agreed.

Some guys I had never seen before showed up in our room that night to study. They were all friendly and we got along great. The study leader from the church arrived. His name was Royce. Just Royce. Nothing else, he said.

He asked if we all had Bibles. I held up a New Testament only.

“This is only the New Testament,” I said, a little embarrassed.

“That’s okay. You won’t need the Old Testament.” Royce replied.

Royce began to explain his theology. I knew things were fishy, but I didn’t know how badly.
Royce began, “We are all called to be disciples. We cannot be called the Servants of Christ unless we are disciples. He called up bits and pieces of verses, all taken out of context, to support his claim. He laid claim that to have salvation, one must be entirely without sin.”

“That’s completely wrong,” I said. “Romans 3:23 says that all have sinned and come short of the glory of God. Are you saying you are without sin?”

“Yes.” came his reply.

“You’re telling us that you are perfect and unless we follow your prescription for salvation, we are not saved?” I asked.

“That’s what the Scripture says.”

“No, that’s the piecemeal version that you’ve strung together. You have no theological training, or math, either.”

“Come again?” he asked.

“You said we are not saved until we become disciples and save another. What happens when the last man is saved? There is no one for him to save, there fore he isn’t saved, either. Nor is the person who witnessed to him. You are teaching a false doctrine.”

Needless to say, he told me I was going to hell and assured the others that if they listened to me, they would, too. It turns out that Royce’s church is an anti-Semitic cult that rejects the Old Testament, orders its members to associate amongst only themselves and drop all connections to their past lives. Campus security has a file on them two feet thick because they prey on incoming freshmen every year. I was fortunate to have the background that I do. It often worried me lying in my bed at night that this scene was repeating somewhere else, and some lonely kid away from home for the first time was about to make a tragic mistake. It chills my soul.

Literally.

Saturday, August 02, 2003

Sentio Aliquos Togatos Contra Me Conspirare

Ever get hit with the realization that you’re a patsy? It’s an interesting feeling, particularly when I tend to keep to myself more often than not. It takes a particularly skillful manipulator to pull me out of my routine for convenient use then discard me as just easily when the mood passes. Look at the bright side, I suppose. At least I’m useful.

I received a good grade in UCC II. I was surprised, really. Statute based exams always worry me, since i never know if I’ve gone into depth in discussing the issues. Apparently, I hit the nail on the head this time around. I’d hope this would motivate me for the coming school year. It hasn’t.

I need to be doing other things too, like finding a roommate and studying for the MPRE. I haven’t done much in either regard. It weren’t so expensive I’d forgo a roomie altogether, but that’s just not feasible. Oh, well. With a four page waiting list, I shouldn’t have to do much to find one. Ground rules will be set before any leases are signed. As for the MPRE, I’ve got to get off my duff on that one. I didn’t even bother to go to the free review session today, so there’s some room for improvement there.

I need a wake up call—and a make it a bit less costly than the ones I’ve been getting in recent memory, if you don’t mind.

Friday, August 01, 2003

Hopeless

Did Bob Hope Ever Say Anything Funny?: As if you needed it, here's further proof that Christopher Hitchens is the most bitter and ignorant commentator to ever bang his knuckles on a keyboard. At least this time it's not Mother Theresa's life he's trashing, not that Bob Hope deserves Hitchens' scorn, either.
Just A Thought

Maybe we should throw our hands up in the air and give the world back to the cockroaches. They often did a better job with it. This is just a suggestion, of course. Take from it what you will.