Merry Happy!

I would like to take a break from my break to wish you all a Merry Christmas, Hanukkah, Festivus, Kwanzaa, or whatever combination of the aforementioned holidays you choose to celebrate.

Of course, my break from blogging was unannounced, which I somewhat regret. In the past three weeks, I faced finals, my little brother's graduation ceremony from the University of Texas, a return to Mexico for the Holidays, as well as assorted family visits.

Additionally, we saw the debut of Three Jews and a Mexican II: Three Jews and One Hundred Million Mexicans. Six days ago, the Three Jews came to visit my humble country. I am happy to report that they are all now back safely in the United States, missing a few pesos but, more importantly, retaining all their fingers and toes.

At a later time I will, of course, chronicle some of the events that took place on the trip, from our crashing a Mexican State Congress Legislative Session to our encounter with Meditating Manuel at the top of a Totonac pyramid in Teotihuacan to that lunch where all Three Jews had what are probably not Kosher grasshopper tacos.

Again, I apologize for the lack of material lately. I was either too busy with exams -- at one point I undertook the extraordinary step of erasing my Games folder on my computer so spider solitaire would not tempt me -- or too relaxed on vacation. I will resume regular blogging duties in the New Year.

Until then.

Please Insult the Suspect

At court this morning, I witnessed the following exchange:

Attorney: Can you describe the woman you saw engaged in the fight?
Witness: Yes. She was a white woman in her mid-forties, maybe fifties. She had dyed blond hair, I think it might have originally been brown or black. And she was, uh, moderately to fairly overweight.
Attorney: Is that person in the courtroom today?
Witness: Yes.
Attorney: Can you point her out, for the record?
Witness: Yes. She is the woman in the purple jacket glaring at me.

Ok, so she didn't say "glaring at me" but she really should have.

Random Video of the Day LXXVII

New York, New York, it's a hell of a town.

The Price is Wrong, Bitch

“The plaintiff submits that it is ‘completely unreasonable’ to suggest that the defendant could reliably hit a ‘Happy Gilmore’ shot, let alone after consuming at least nine beers and half a pint of tequila.”

Haven't we all been there?

A judge -- who hails from Canadia, where fun goes to die --has just ruled that the "Happy Gilmore shot" breaches a duty of care on the golf course. Therefore, if you hurt someone with it -- and you will -- you might be liable for damages.

As always, lawyers are the first to suck the fun out of everything. What will be the next sports move ripped off from a movie to fall? The Flying V? The Annexation of Puerto Rico?

God, what if they outlaw the knucklepuck? Is nothing sacred anymore?

Quote of the Day LVI

Lisa considers becoming a Wiccan:

Lisa: Are you a minority group as defined by Ivy League admissions?

Wiccan: Cornell and Dartmouth.

The Young and the Restless

This weekend, I found out that I am too old for this shit. Consider the following item Murtaughed:

I am too old to try to travel to NYC, stay out until six in the morning, go to a diner and get breakfast and hop on a bus back to Boston, pass out on the bus, and then be able to have a productive day back home.

I used to be able to do that. Not anymore.

Now, after about twelve hours of drinking at events surrounding the Cornell-BU hockey game at Madison Square Garden, at 3 a.m. I was ready to fall to the floor in a heap, assume the fetal position, and welcome death. Even though I did pass out on a couch for four hours, slept through most of the bus ride, and took an hour-long nap at home, I still feel like I ran two marathons. I've rarely been so tired in my life.

You know that scene in Almost Famous when the kid finally comes back home, walks into his bedroom, and approaches his bed with arms outstretched in a state of utter bliss while a choir plays softly in the background?

That's going to be me at approximately 9 pm today.

Also, I'm too old to sleep on a couch. Everything is creaking. Good Lord.

Daddy's Home

Ladies and Gentlemen, the doctors have cleared me.

I may now resume any and all alcoholic activities.

Hide your women and children.

I'm back.

Random Video of the Day LXXVI

The Muppets sing "Bohemian Rhapsody." As always, Animal steals the show.

The Day the Mustache Died

I'm afraid I have a disappointing announcement to make.

Despite my best efforts, I have been forbidden from growing a mustache by my supervisor at the criminal clinic.

I explained that they were for charity and that literally dozens of us were growing them around America.

Nevertheless, it seems that, at the courts, some judges don't take us seriously, mostly because we're students. And it would behoove us not to add fuel to the fire of not-being-taken-with-seriousness by growing sketchy facial hair.

So unfortunately I was forced to shave before I was allowed to represent our clients in a court of law. I apologize to all those who were looking forward to seeing the Chester the Molester version of me.

On the plus side, at least now parents won't take their children and flee when they see me walking down the sidewalk.

I am as disappointed as everyone. Still, you can donate to either my phantom mustache or to the actual courageous mustaches of my fellow growers by clicking here. Thank you.

Quote of the Day LV

Following my performance as an accused rapist at the mock trial today, the presiding judge came up to me and said:

"You did a terrific job. You did not come off as a rapist at all."

It's a relief to hear that, I guess. So thanks?

Trial of the Semester

Today, my trial advocacy class comes to an end.

Last week I had my own trial. My partner and I valiantly defended a department store from a litigious plaintiff - a woman who was stopped and questioned about how she might have shoplifted and was then subsequently arrested. As a result, she claimed, she suffered post-traumatic stress disorder.

I mean, come on, right? We've all been there. Who hasn't been falsely arrested? And none of us shakes and throws up and can't be alone anymore.

Due mostly to sharp questioning and a closing argument on par with Daniel Webster, our advocacy skills were enough to secure a judgment for our client on two out of three claims. The last claim was lost because we were barred procedurally from introducing a key third witness, but no matter. Although I was unable to work a mocking, "Oh the humanity!" into my closing argument, two out of three ain't bad.

Today, the other half of the class will perform their own trial. I have been commissioned as an actor in one of those trials.

My part?

The defendant in a criminal trial: a gas station attendant who is accused of raping a pregnant woman.

Yeesh.

While I am flattered that I was the first choice for this role, this is a difficult part to play. But apparently, my character didn't actually do the crime he is accused of committing. That should be a great motivation. I mean, I can't go back to prison. I'd get passed around like a pack of cigarettes.

My most pressing question about this role is, how do I dress? I would assume that this character would be in custody. However, it is probably unwise to walk around Boston in a prison jumpsuit while on my way to the courthouse.

So what do I wear instead? A suit? Gas station overalls? Lots of denim? How much chest hair do I show? I mean, I say that I seduced this woman, so there should be a little, right? On the other hand, she says that I raped her, so it should not be that much. So how much puts me on the right side of the line?

I just hope I don't get typecast.

Random Video of the Day LXXV

Neil Young covers that one song about Bel-Air that all kids our age know.

Lost and Found

On or around the 25th of August, I finally succumbed to temptation and started watching Lost.

At long last, three months later, I have watched every episode in order, and have come to the end of season five.

I am now all caught up and no longer have to close my eyes and chant LALALALA every time Lost is mentioned on TV or the internet.

It is really hard to try to get into an incredibly popular show five years after it came on the air and remain spoiler free.

By the way, if you haven't watched it and think that maybe someday you will, this is where you close your eyes and go LALALALA, although I'd whisper if I were you and I were in the library, or class.

This is what I knew about the show before I started watching it:

A bunch of people crashed on an island and found polar bears and a monster made out of smoke. They fought some people called The Others, who, I assumed, were other people on the island who perhaps owned the polar bears. There was a hatch. A guy was paralyzed and then suddenly he was not paralyzed. A hobbit played a crack addict and was later killed off. A bunch of them got off the island and then wanted to go back. The island could move and you could only find it if you followed an invisible path without straying from a thin and narrow line. The island also moved through time.

It still sounds as preposterous now as it did back then, before I started watching it. Don't get me wrong, it's a great show -- I am now as addicted as a common junkie and can't wait for it to come back on the air.

I mean, it just has so many OH SHIT moments. Remember when Michael shot Ana Lucia and Libby? OH SHIT. Or when Sayid shot the young Ben Linus? OH SHIT. Or when The Others kidnapped Walt and shot Sawyer? OH SHIT. Or when it turns out Bernard is white? OH SHIT.

It does have some great moments. The opening scene when we find out there's a crazy Scottish guy in the hatch? Or when Jack is shown playing football with The Others? Or when it turns out The Others are living in a nice little village on the island? Or when we find out depressed Jack with the beard is around three years after they leave the island? Or when Arzt explodes?

BUT GODDAMNIT WHY DID THEY HAVE TO TRAVEL THROUGH TIME?

Seriously, every time anyone throws time travel into the equation it just screws everything up. I mean, I understand how it makes for a handy narrative technique -- we don't know when or where we are so everything can be a surprise and maybe we get to see Juliet again. But you know you're treading on thin ice when hey have to call in Hurley as a surrogate to ask the questions we are all asking only to have everybody shrug and says, I don't know, just roll with it.

But you know what? I'll give it to them because it's an interesting show and they have some great characters and even if it meanders it still tells a great story. Plus, there are so many questions.

What happens after the bomb explodes? Why does that guy not age? Who is pretending to be Locke? Why introduce Jacob and kill him off immediately? Did those bastards really have to kill off Juliet? Where are Claire and her baby? When did Sawyer become so much better than Jack? Why are Jin and Sun so boring? Has Sayid ever smiled? Why doesn't Hurley lose weight? Why is Kate so hot? How good are Desmond and Ben Linus? Are we done traveling through time?

And most importantly, didn't this use to be a show about people stranded on an island trying to figure out how to get food and water? What the hell happened?

The Mustache Man

Incidentally, the mustache growing has begun.

I shaved on Thursday and have not brought a razor to my face since. It will stay that way until Thanksgiving day, where I will shear off all the hair on my face, leaving the eyebrows and mustache untouched. I will repeat this four times, until I have a mustache and become indistinguishable from Burt Reynolds.

Again I will reiterate that I do not do this for fame and fortune. I do this, instead, for the children.

Any money you choose to donate in support of el mustacho goes to Donorschoose.org. Any amount you can spare, from ten to ten trillion dollars, would be greatly appreciated.

So please, click here and contribute. It only takes a minute and helps a great cause. Thanks!

You will be rewarded with pictures of my Chester the Molester impression, which you can point and laugh at and use to scare children.

We will now return to our regularly scheduled programming.

The Astronaut Charmer

On How I Met Your Mother last night, Barney Stinson, free from the shackles of a relationship, re-opened The Playbook -- a collection of tricks, cons, spiels, etc. to get women to go home with you.

Sprinkled in between gems such as the "Don't Drink That," the "Lorenzo von Matterhorn," and the "My Penis Grants Wishes," Barney unveiled the "Snasa."

The gist of it?

You tell a woman you're an astronaut.

Ladies, and gentlemen, I've used that line. I've gone up to girls at bars and told them I was an astronaut and they believed me!

So imagine my wonder -- nay, pride! -- when the most enlightened character in television history used one of my shticks to woo blondes who'll believe anything if you say it with equal parts conviction and nonchalance.

While Barney gussied it up and added the "secret" prefix to NASA (hence, "Snasa"), I feel like a young rookie QB who has just seen Tom Brady go into a game and use one of the plays I've drawn up.

I could not be prouder.

And now, for my next trick, I'll be playing the part of "The South American Vintner."

Oliver Wendell Holmes with the First Pick

Obviously, people love fantasy sports. It is so invigorating, in fact, that old folks' homes use it as a weapon to stave off death.

I myself spend entire Sundays surreptitiously checking Stattracker, cursing the underachieving Bernard Berrian and wondering whether Greg Jennings is invisible and if that's why he never gets thrown to.

Come baseball season, I'll happily spend twenty minutes a day setting my roster, pouncing on rookies only to later discard them like yesterday's blonde, and wishing a slow painful death on my third round pick who was injured six innings into the season.

With this I must balance my outside interests, which unfortunately includes paying occasional attention to law school.

I always thought that never the twain shall meet.

But from the shadows emerged some huge nerd who has wedded these two seemingly disparate activities.

Ladies and gentlemen, Fantasy SCOTUS.

That's right, we have now turned the Supreme Court of the United States into a venue wherein we can pick and choose justices, compete to see who has the greatest predictive ability, and bask in the glory of our opponents' defeat.

Of course, we must reconcile some unappealing facts. Fantasy sports, nerdy to being with, have now been nerded up to an astronomical degree. It's not quite Fantasy Star Trek. But damn.

Nothing illustrates this like the questions one would ask:

Who is the first round pick? OK, granted, in the league you don't pick justices in the traditional fantasy league sense, but you must still decide which justices are the linchpins. Who is going to be the key to more majorities? Chief Justice Roberts? Or Anthony "Swinger" Kennedy? Who is a throwaway vote? Breyer or Ginsburg? Imagine if we had seen this in the heady, unpredictable days of Sandra Day? Will she vote to affirm or reverse? Even the Talented Mr. Roto would cry and hide.

Just what is Clarence Thomas going to do? Will he vote like it's 1868? Or like it's 1789? In other words, will this be the one case each year where Thomas splits from Scalia? And will even Scalia go, "Daaamn?"

Is the Court going to affirm the 7th Circuit in the upcoming Kucana v. Holder, and let us know finally what is the scope of the jurisdictional stripping provision of 8 U.S.C. Section 1252(a)(2)(B)(ii) and whether the statute removes jurisdiction from federal courts to review rulings on motions to reopen by the Board of Immigration Appeals?

Or what about Kawasaki Kisen Kaisha v. Regal-Beloit Corporation, on whether the Carmack Amendment to the Interstate Commerce Act of 1887, which governs certain rail and motor transportation by common carriers within the United States, 49 U.S.C. §§ 11706 (rail carriers) & 14706 (motor carriers), applies to the inland rail leg of an intermodal shipment from overseas when the shipment was made under a “through” bill of lading issued by an ocean carrier that extended the Carriage of Goods by Sea Act (COGSA), 46 U.S.C. § 30701. Will they affirm the 9th Circuit or remand it for further consideration consistent with the present holding?

Fascinating questions like these will come up every day. Who can resist predicting? Will it be a 7-2 vote? Or a 7-1 vote?

Why 7-1, you ask? Oh, you forgot Sotomayor had to recuse herself because she heard this on the lower court? Well, SUCKS to be you, articles editor of the law review! How does it feel to forget such a simple fact? How does it feeeeel? I did remember because I'm AWESOME. Who da man? Who da man? You can all go SUCK IT.

I need a time out.

Joining the AA

During my current incarnation as a teetotaler, I have gone to several bars and parties. I have abstained from drinking during these occasions.

However, people are always surprised when they see me without a drink in my hand. And I can't blame them. It's like seeing John Henry without his hammer.

So they always go, "Whoa," and ask me, "Why aren't you drinking?"

And, because being on meds for a stomach virus is equal parts boring and TMI, I always say, "I've just joined A.A. I'm two weeks sober." And then I start digging in my pockets. "Hold on, let me find my chip."

Inevitably, I get three reactions to that:

1. Hahahaha. You? No, come on. Really, why aren't you drinking?

2. Oh! Um ... I see ... uh ... OK. I ...

3. FINALLY.

Fine, I'm lying about the last one. No one has said "Finally!" Thank God.

A surprising amount of people, however, have had reaction number two. And it's hard to blame them for that.

Because what do you say to someone who tells you that they just joined A.A.? It's such an awkward answer. What are you supposed to say? "I'm sorry?" "Oh, good luck with that?" "Oh geez, that sucks. Here, can I get you a drink?"

I deeply regret any awkwardness that my comment may have caused anyone or their family.

Random Video of the Day LXXIV

You know what today is? Let's scare the crap out of everybody day! Drunk T lady, take it away!

Charting the Jobless

Hi, folks!

The recession is over! The Dow Jones Index, long regarded as the only factor to consider when assessing the economic health of the world, surges heroically past 10,000 points! Hostile takeovers are fashionable again! Credit card regulations are soon to take place, even as credit card company push up rates to 30 percent, a benchmark of which even the mob would be ashamed!

In other words, we should soon return to the halcyon days of fifteen months ago, right? The days when dollars flowed like donuts, $350 wastebaskets were acceptable, and people could enjoy a dessert for two -- Tahitian vanilla bean ice cream in a pool of cognac, drizzled in the world's most expensive chocolate, Amadei Porcelana, covered with shaved white, black, and clear truffles, topped with edible 25-carat gold leaf?

And surely someone's plugged up the ship called Employment and made it seaworthy again, no?

No?

Crap.

It seems the vessel Unemployment is more crowded than ever. People from all walks of life have congregated on this ship, hoping their collective weight does not end up sending it, and us, to Davy Jones' locker down where the sun is but a rumor.

At least we can now know the make-up of the crew. Here, in all its graphic glory, is a chart outlining which groups are the ones most affected by the unemployment monster.

You can break it down by race, age bracket, and education. No matter what you choose, you'll be terrified.

Send help.

Mustache Up

Mustaches have long been regarded as the red-headed stepchild of facial hair. Since the end of the1970s, the mustache has been relegated to pornography and mug shots.

Look at it this way: in a full bus, every single seat will be occupied – even the seat next to the 280-pound guy who breathes with his mouth open and brought a family-size bag of Cheetos for the trip. Every seat, that is, except for the one next to Mustache Pete.

The poor girl (it’s always a girl) unfortunate enough to be the last person to board the bus will look up and down the aisle, looking for someone brave enough to sit next to the Mustache Man so that she won’t have to. But there are no longer any heroes. She will spend the entire bus ride locked in prayer, staring out of the corner of her eye at Chester the Molester, trying to will his hands to stay still and never wander.

In this day and age, mustaches simply have that connotation. They are associated with Chris Hansen, poor decisions, and a general lack of self-awareness. Legitimate newspapers have chronicled the slow decline and baffling death of the mustache. To cultivate a mustache, quite simply, is to give up.

Despite all this, I will be rocking a mustache for nearly a month. I will shave once a week, trimming everything but the areas above and next to my upper-lip. I will walk around in public like this, in the full view of my peers and acquaintances.

Why am I doing this?

Quite simply, for charity.

I have signed on with the Boston chapter of Mustaches for Kids, a charity drive that, despite its terrifying name, is a terrific cause. I will be what they call a “grower” – one among the unfortunate souls who dispense with dignity and sex life for a month, in order to grow a sweet mustache.

People, impressed by the sacrifice of the growers, would then contribute any amount they can spare to fund the charity. In the past, Mustaches for Kids has raised over one million dollars for various charities around the country. This is the first year where we have a Boston chapter, and we’re looking to kick it off with a bang.

This year, we will be growing for DonorsChoose.org, which helps support underfunded public schools throughout the country. Many of you, I’m sure, are familiar with the organization and the terrific work it does. Supporting them is a great cause.

Look, I could say I’m going to run a marathon and try to get people to sponsor me. But I’d die somewhere around mile 0.6. And that’s not fun for anyone. I could just shamelessly ask for money, but come on, I should at least make some sort of effort. A sacrifice is demanded.

And so I will mustache up for a month. I will, of course, be updating this blog with periodic photographs of my burgeoning creepiness, every week or so, beginning on November 19, 'Clean Shave Day.' If you’d like to donate and support my mustache, or that of any of the other growers, by all means click here. You can join the Facebook group. You can come meet us and bid Godspeed on the last day of our normalcy. Heck, you can even be a grower yourself. We’d love for you to join.

Seriously, contact me if you want to join. I'm more than happy to throw away your razor. And then get you a new one because these are mustaches, not beards. Aaaaanyway....

As a last incentive, I’d like to mention something that might get some of you on board.



Yes, folliculaphilia. Yes, it exists. For every 100 women out there, 2 are attracted only to men with mustaches. 98 hate it. Hate it. But if you can find the 2 folliculaphiles, they will be on you like you are a combination of Burt Reynolds and Tom Selleck. They might be few and far between, but if you find one, you’re golden.

In the Bible it says, he who hooketh up with someone while rocking a mustache will be forever blessed, and hold all bragging rights.

Who are we to argue with the Jesus?

The Last Temptation of Charlie

As many of you know, I am still mired in the middle of a three-and-a-half week stretch wherein I can't drink. I still haven't touched a drop of alcohol in almost two weeks -- a career-best stretch that nevertheless is not without its temptations.

Yesterday came perhaps the most arduous test of all. Yesterday, my buddies threw a party that both commemorated the end of the Fall MPRE and the birthday of two friends. I went to this party, determined not to drink, and now I know what it was like for Jesus when he was out in the desert and was tempted by the Devil.

As Marc said, in what is one of the Top 5 compliments I have ever received, "You not being able to drink is like when Beethoven went deaf."

I was tempted from the start. Almost immediately upon arriving at the party, I was commissioned as a beer pong partner. After explaining to my partner that I could not drink, she graciously agreed to drink for me. Terrific. I started playing, and that's when I began to have trouble. Perhaps it is instinct, perhaps it is muscle memory, but every time the opposing team made a cup, my hand reflexively went for the cup in order to drink, only to stop with a start when I realized what was going on. Pavlov could not be more proud.

The party continued in that vein through the night. I spent most of it alternating between soda and regular water packed with ice, as all those around me got progressively rowdier. The soda water was so I would have something to do with my hands. Having rarely never been at a party without the comforting anchor of a drink in my hand, I found myself wondering what the hell to do with my hands. Where do I put them? How do I use them? So instead of leaning against a column like some greaser in the 50s, I chugged soda water like it was Pepto Bismol. Surprisingly, it worked.

At some point, a group of undergraduate girls came to the party -- whether they were lost or whether one of us is a sketchy, sketchy bastard is still undetermined at this point. Then the party turned into a dance party, people started singing, someone nearly fell down a flight of stairs, etc.

And there I was, sober as a Mormon, sipping maniacally from a cup of ice water.

But you know what? I actually had a lot of fun. Despite being literally the only sober person at a huge party, and despite the certainty that, when the cops inevitably came, I would be the one to talk to them, the party was very enjoyable. Before I knew it and much to my surprise, two in the morning had rolled around.

It is comforting to know that I can still enjoy myself in a situation where I'm the only minority in the room (yes, yes, I know). I yelled at people, sang loudly and out of tune, and toasted to the passage of the Health Bill, all without the aid of the special sauce. Perhaps booze is to fun as ketchup is to fries -- all it does is put the Spring in Springfield.

Plus, you know what? This no hangover thing is kind of great.

Random Video of the Day LXXIII

I can't explain why this is funny, it just is.

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

Lessons in Stalking

Yesterday, our assignment for the Criminal Clinic involved investigations. Therefore, we were given a list of random questions and had to come into class with the answers.

These were the kinds of questions we were asked, slightly redacted:

1. What is Tom Brady's social security number?
2. Name two golf courses near Larry Bird's home in Florida.
3. Is Amy [Fisher] of Lindberg Ave. in Newton a real estate agent or a social worker?
4. Whose phone number is (617)264-[9999]?

The answer to the last question, by the way, was the Dean of the law school.

I have never felt sketchier in my life. In my mind, the better you are at this assignment, the more the rest of us should fear you.

The fact that this information is available online to anyone who can access Lexis is incredibly terrifying. I will immediately seek out new aliases so I can continue to elude capture.

Now, if you'll pardon me, I'm going to take a long, scalding shower. Ick.

Mickey the Wasteland Overlord

In their ongoing effort to burn down and raze every last vestige of our childhood (What on God's good earth is an Ace Bunny and a Danger Duck?), the powers that be seem to have set their heights on that most hallowed of hallowed grounds: the Disney Empire.

I never much cared for Mickey Mouse. I thought him bland and unnaturally cheerful. He struck me as the sort of person who would voluntarily go to his own lobotomy.

I'm a Donald Duck man, myself. I very much enjoyed his angst and uncontrollable rage blackouts. He was a much more interesting character. The whole Disney menagerie, in fact, held far more water than Mickey -- the folksy wisdom of Goofy, the resourcefulness of Chip 'n' Dale, Rescue Rangers, and Uncle Scrooge's unwavering greed and eccentricities.

But now, as the apocalypse approaches, Disney wants to retool the characters to give them more of an edge. Let's go to our paper of record:

For decades, the Walt Disney Company has largely kept Mickey Mouse frozen under glass, fearful that even the tiniest tinkering might tarnish the brand and upend his $5 billion or so in annual merchandise sales. One false move and Disney could have New Coke on its hands.

Way to subtly refer to Walt Disney's cryogenically frozen body. The implications of this statement are very disturbing: Are we meant to infer that, just like the pharaohs and their servants in ancient Egypt, upon his death Walt Disney had his characters shut in and buried with him in the Disney Vault? (Shudders).

Also, when are we going to stop using New Coke as the go-to joke for failed brand re-imaginations? We need a replacement (how ironic). May I nominate The Jay Leno Show?

Now, however, concerned that Mickey has become more of a corporate symbol than a beloved character for recent generations of young people, Disney is taking the risky step of re-imagining him for the future.

Oooooh. Future Mickey? This is awesome. I wonder if he'll run into Wall-E. And then find that all of his friends have died in the zombie apocalypse.

The first glimmer of this will be the introduction next year of a new video game, Epic Mickey, in which the formerly squeaky clean character can be cantankerous and cunning, as well as heroic, as he traverses a forbidding wasteland.

Oh crap! They are sending Mickey to the zombie apocalypse. I love the pitch of this video game. Mickey Mouse meets Cormac McCarthy's The Road. I wonder if the Beagle Boys will play the role of the cannibal den. No wonder Mickey will be "cantankerous and cunning."

In Epic Mickey, the foundation of which a group of interns dreamed up in 2004, the title character still exhibits the hallmarks that younger generations know: he is adventurous, enthusiastic and curious. “Mickey is never going to be evil or go around killing people,” Mr. Spector said.

"But if people try to kill him," Mr. Spector continued. "Mickey will answer will deadly force. He will cut up those bitches like a chef at a Benihana."

But Mickey won’t be bland anymore, either. “I wanted him to be able to be naughty — when you’re playing as Mickey you can misbehave and even be a little selfish,” Mr. Spector said.

Oh my God! Naughty Mickey? It's a Japanese cartoon artist's wet dream. Parents, hide your children.

In many ways, it is a return to Mickey at his creation. When the character made its debut in “Steamboat Willie” in 1928, he was the Bart Simpson of his time: an uninhibited rabble-rouser who got into fistfights, played tricks on his friends (pity Clarabelle Cow) and, later, was amorously aggressive with Minnie.

"Amorously Aggressive" might be the worst euphemism I've ever heard. I will adopt it forthwith. "Your honor, I was not sexually harassing the plaintiff. I was merely being amorously aggressive. As established in the landmark Mouse v. Mouse, this kind of behavior is non-actionable."

Epic Mickey, designed for Nintendo’s Wii console, is set in a “cartoon wasteland” where Disney’s forgotten and retired creations live. The chief inhabitant is Oswald the Lucky Rabbit, a cartoon character Walt Disney created in 1927 as a precursor to Mickey but ultimately abandoned in a dispute with Universal Studios.

Fun fact: Oswald the Lucky Rabbit was traded for Al Michaels (yes, the Al Michaels) a couple of years ago. This was so that Michaels could call football games on NBC. It is yet unclear as to whether NBC primetime is the barren wasteland referred to as the Epic Mickey setting.

In the game, Oswald has become bitter and envious of Mickey’s popularity. The game also features a disemboweled, robotic Donald Duck and a “twisted, broken, dangerous” version of Disneyland’s “It’s a Small World.” Using paint and thinner thrown from a magic paintbrush, Mickey must stop the Phantom Blot overlord, gain the trust of Oswald and save the day.

This might be the craziest paragraph in history. Let's break it down:

1. A "disemboweled, robotic Donald Duck?" Dear sweet baby Jesus! They killed Donald! Is this an example of what happens to you when you piss off the new Mickey and he cuts you? What did Donald do that made Mickey gut him? Hit on Minnie? On the plus side, it seems Cyborg Donald is the new Disney's version of the terminator. Oy.

2. A "twisted, broken, dangerous" version of "it's a Small World" differs from the original incarnation in that the new one, America is represented only by Detroit and the tram cars are made by Ford.

3. Mickey's weapon of choice against cyborg Donald is paint and thinner? Has he joined Charlie and begun huffing glue? Seriously, paint thinner is dangerous. I can't wait for the first liability suit stemming from some kid dumping a full can of thinner on the school bully.

Consumers will not be able to buy the game before fall of next year. Anticipation is intense. “Wow! This is amazing,” said Eli Gee on GameInformer.com. “I’m really... REALLY excited."

That Eli Gee of GameInformer.com does not start all his sentences with "Gee!"is a wasted opportunity of the highest order. I mean, he works for GameInformer.com. He's not getting laid anyway.

Considerable effort has gone into instilling a backdrop of choice and consequence. Players can either behave in an entirely happy way and help other characters — and have an easier go of it in the wasteland — or choose more selfish, destructive behavior with a harsher outcome, including a Mickey that starts to physically resemble a rat.

Ah! There we have it! You can be good and beat the game! Or you can be evil and turn into a rat!

What a complete and utter cop-out. They're not retooling the character at all. They're only conditioning children into pursuing the Disney way of life willingly. In essence, to beat the game, you either behave the way Mickey has always behaved and win, or you give him an edge and turn him into Mickey Rat. All they've done is add the illusion of choice into the brainwashing.

And if you don't believe that, perhaps you also believe that the priest in The Little Mermaid had a weird pleat in his pants.

A Tale of Two Evils

There was no good resolution to this. While not the abomination that was the 2000 Subway World Series, a clash between the Yankees and the Phillies was like pitting Freddy v. Jason, or Alien v. Predator. Whoever won, humanity lost.

That said, I would like to begrudgingly congratulate the Yankees on their victory today. You bought the fastest car and didn't crash it. Congratulations.

By the way, this doesn't change the fact that A-Rod is so incredibly weird, words can scarcely do it justice.

Pop Quiz, Hotshot

As I have mentioned before, my depositions class not only teaches us how to depose unfortunate bastards, but also fulfills the "professional responsibility" requirement that every law student must complete before he is loosed upon the world.

That said, the syllabus is such that we spend about 99 percent of the class on the depositions part of the equation.

Last week, the opportunity to explore the other 1 percent relating to the ethical rules and regulations that would cover "professional responsibility" finally arrived.

I am happy to report that, in this 1 percent of the time, we not only failed to learn professional responsibility, but as a whole demonstrated that we are highly unprofessional and very irresponsible.

Our professor attempted to teach us professional responsibility through a 30-minute, ungraded, anonymous clicker quiz. It did not go well. It went so badly, in fact, that now we have to take the quiz again, for real.

If I may offer several facts in our defense:

1. The quiz about the rules was actually scheduled for the week before the quiz actually took place. We actually studied for the quiz on the original date, only to be told that we would be doing it next week instead, for no readily apparent reason.

2. The professor, in what proved to be the turning point of the game, then mentioned that the quiz would be done anonymously through the use of a clicker. Therefore, it would be impossible to grade us on our performance.

3. What do you expect will happen when you say that to a bunch of 3Ls?

4. By the time the quiz rolled around, our "studying" had happened 15 days before. Expecting any of us to retain any information for more than 15 minutes following something borders on the absurd. Today, in fact, I walked into the bathroom and had forgotten whether I needed to use the stalls or the urinals. So I just left instead.

5. The quiz itself was preposterous. For most of the questions, she would give us the text of a rule, and then ask us whether the text was in rule 26(b) or 26(d)(3).

6. Yes, those really were the questions.

7. When she asked us the substance of the rules, we actually did quite well. Unfortunately, these were the minority of the questions.

8. Some of us discovered that, although we were usually only given 3 or 4 options, all 9 buttons on the clicker worked. Some of us thought that, when asked if it was option 1,2, or 3, and we answered with option 8, it would be funny. Some of us -- most of us, in fact -- are over 25 years old.

9. It was funny.

10. She had never told us which rules to actually study. No, not the numbers. We didn't know whether we need to study the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure, the Federal Rules of Evidence, or the Rules of Professional Responsibility, or any combination thereof.

So now we face a re-quiz, in what some of us call an unconstitutional procedure, because of double jeopardy and who will uphold the Fifth Amendment and whatnot, and plus, really?

In fact, there is talk of insurrection. Some have floated the idea of a sort of protest -- we actually didn't do badly on the quiz, and did well when asked what the rules meant. We only slipped when she asked which rule corresponded to which number. Knowing this might be a good party trick, but it is largely irrelevant in actual practice.

So now, it's protest time. While I'm opposed to a hunger strike, I will gladly picket outside the classroom while chanting "We Shall Overcome."

My hope is these protests do not become violent, but if I must die in the name of a worthy cause, so be it.

Damning Evidence

And then one day, I woke up, and I found out that I was 549 pages behind in my Evidence reading.

Holy Jebus.

I really don't know what happened. I feel like a guy who just showed up for his flight from New York to Japan only to find out his plane is already over the Hawaiian islands.

I guess things really got out of hand in a hurry.

On the plus side, I'm less than 550 pages behind on my reading.

Random Video of the Day LXXII

I have never cried so much and so loudly as I did after watching this video. All that beer. That beautiful, beautiful beer. Gone, like so many beers of their generation, before their time.

The Good Ship Temperance

Today, I find myself in an unfortunate situation. There's no easy way to say it, so I'll just say it.

I must refrain from drinking for almost a month.

Of course, I do this under the utmost duress.

Unfortunately, I seem to have some sort of stomach bug. According to the doctor, this bug is powerful enough that it can only be destroyed with almost a month's worth of medication. As a result, drinking is forbidden until the medication has completed its war against the bug.

(By the way, I'm fine. It's no big deal).

I should be good and ready to go by the time the Cornell-BU hockey game at Madison Square Garden rolls along, which is a great relief.

I still find myself, however, staring at what might be the longest three weeks of my life. Although periods of LOCKDOWN have exceeded this time period, on those occasions I could still mollify myself with the occasional and much needed drink after long study sessions or the finals themselves.

So why would I undergo this trial? Why wander out into the wilderness unarmed?

Simply put, my stomach is perhaps the most important part of my body. Those who have seen me eat and drink know I do it enthusiastically, indiscriminately, in abundance, and with no short measure of abandon. Often, people will even take pictures of me while I engage in some self-appointed culinary challenge. It's that entertaining.

I would say at least 90 percent of my happiness derives from my stomach. Therefore, it is of the utmost importance that whatever is wrong with my stomach gets fixed quickly, so that I may resume my normal activities.

It will certainly be an interesting three-and-a-half weeks. In fact, I'm kind of excited. I have never been a teetotaler. I have never been acquainted with such temperance. This, in a way, is my own personal prohibition -- an 18th Amendment that applies only to me. Let's see where this takes me.

I feel like an explorer, standing at the prow of a newly-departed ship that sails for oceans unknown.

Pray for me.

How to Ruin Halloween in Ten Days

As part of their ongoing coverage of Halloween, the NYT has ignored the fact that Halloween is a day where parents all over America are fraught with worry and fear, particularly if they are the parents of children aged 17-34.

Instead, they have produced an in-depth investigation of recent trends concerning the continued infringement of students' first amendment rights.

In elementary schools across the nation, children are no longer allowed to wear Halloween costumes that are, in a word "scary." This is, of course part of the same movement that wants to do away with the "competitive" part of competitive sports and the "food" part of cafeteria food by replacing scoring with polite applause and mac & cheese with peas & carrots, respectively.

Little Bo Peep would make the cut at the Halloween parade at Riverside Drive Elementary School here on Friday, but the staff she used to menace her sheep would probably have to go.

I never thought of Little Bo Peep as a figure that was particularly "menacing" to sheep. I always thought she had just lost them. Apparently, however, they ran away, probably in horror. I'm just glad that we finally know why those lambs would not stop screaming.

In a school district in Illinois, students are being encouraged to dress up as historical characters or delicious food items rather than vampires or zombies.

Historical characters or delicious food items? Why not combine both? Ladies and Gentlemen, today's costume winner is 10-year old Sally Perkins, who came in dressed as a tart!

In Texas, a school has issued suggestions for “positive costumes” for the annual Halloween dance.

This is, of course, the opposite of "negative costumes," which include Eeyore, Daria, and Joseph Lieberman. The criteria? Costumes that bum everyone out.

At Riverside Drive, a Los Angeles public school in the San Fernando Valley, the Halloween parade is being defanged right down to its jagged fingertips.

Anatomically, this sentence makes little sense. If anything, it is suggestive of unspeakably horrific acts. You not only defang something, you keep going until you reach the jagged fingertips? Are we talking mutilation of the whole head, arms, and torso here? I thought the whole point of this was for Halloween to stop being scary.

“We’re balancing a tradition here with the times we live in,” said Tom Hernandez, a spokesman for District 202 in Plainfield, Ill., where costumes depicting animals and food (preferably carrots or pumpkins) are in favor.

Wait, what happened to the defanged parade in Los Angeles? All of a sudden we are back in Illinois? What purpose did the anatomically confusing sentence before this one serve? Also, any kid who shows up dressed as a carrot should be hung from their underwear until dead.

Even at a public school named after the man who practically invented cloak and daggers for children, there are restrictions.

Wait. What?

“Children are not allowed to bring any weapons or masks to the costume parade, no swords, and they can wear moderate face makeup — nothing extreme,” explained Addys Gonzalez, the office assistant at the Walt Disney Elementary School in Burbank, Calif.

OK. Now I'm really confused. Walt Disney practically invented cloak and daggers for children? I thought he invented the single greatest merchandising icon known to mankind. When did he start giving kids cloaks and daggers? Maybe he did it during Jew hunts.

And now we're back in California? Is this the defanged parade? Did Walt Disney have fangs? Help!

A memo about costume appropriateness sent home recently by Riverside Drive’s principal made the following points:

Ooh, a memo! Great!

¶They should not depict gangs or horror characters, or be scary.

Your son cannot dress up as a crip. He especially cannot dress up as a blood. Also, the Halloween costume cannot be scary or depict a horror character. This includes, but is not limited to, Frankenstein monsters, wolfmen, vampires, zombies, serial killers, mummies, leatherfaces, invisible people, dragons, dinosaurs, giant animals, mutants, Dick Cheney, creatures from black lagoons, cousin Itt, Hulk, Shrek, Elmo, Dr. Jekylls, Mr. Hydes, aliens, goblins, orcs, communists, reds, elves, Jasons, Freddies, Them, bigfeet, witches, wraiths, deaths, gremlins, and bat boys.

"Be Scary," actually, is all inclusive. Somewhere out there, someone (raises hand) thinks brides are scary.

You know what, I'm not even going to bother listing the rest of the rules. They are as superfluous and unnecessary as that sixth pitcher at last call.

Riverside Drive goes beyond the guidelines, written a few years ago, said Monica Carazo, a spokeswoman for the system. Those guidelines discourage fake weapons, costumes that mock race or gender and anything too sexy; French maids are explicitly discouraged.

Isn't this discriminative of the French? The French have as much a right to employ a maid as any other country. Heck, call them Freedom Maids if you have to. Just don't ruin it for the rest of us.

“Several years ago, there was some push back in our community,” said Mr. Hernandez, the school district spokesman in Plainfield, Ill. “Some people thought Halloween was a Satanic ritual. Well, let’s not say Satanic — let’s say they were not comfortable with what it represents.”

That's right, unless people are dressing as angels and/or highly ornamented candles, nobody should ever dress up.

“If someone shows up in a witch costume, we’re not going to tell them to take it off,” he said, but the district will not countenance claws of any sort.

He continued, "We are well aware that we should not tell children to take their clothes off."

At James F. Bay Elementary in Seabrook, Tex., costumes are forbidden outright, according to the school’s principal, Erin Tite, but an exception was made for the Halloween dance. “The purpose for the dance was to allow them a safe place to wear their costumes in place of trick or treating for some of our students,” Ms. Tite said in an e-mail message. “We established the guidelines of ‘positive costumes’ from the beginning, knowing what we might see if we chose not to establish boundaries.”

In an entire article full of ridiculous statements, the last paragraph is perhaps the most ridiculous one of all. They forbid costumes. Except on Halloween.

For our next measure, we will prohibit the distribution of beads. Except on Mardi Gras.

Random Video of the Day LXXI

Christopher Walken covering Lady Gaga might actually be better than James Lipton covering Kevin Federline.

Over the Milky Way

Just now, I really wanted a snack. So I thought, you know what would really be terrific? A Milky Way. That sounds really good, actually. I’ll go have a Milky Way.

So I walked over to the vending machine, put in a dollar, scanned the machine, and located the Milky Ways.

But then I noticed that, in front of all the Milky Ways was a lone, miserable Snickers bar. This Snickers bar, somehow, had wandered away from its duly appointed Snickers line and gone over next door. There, sitting at the front of the line and thus blocking the progress of the Milky Ways, sat that smug Snickers bar, mocking me.

I looked inside my wallet. I no longer had any $1 bills. I didn’t have enough money to buy the offending Snickers bar, fling it out the window to a horrible fate twelve stories below, and then buy by what this point had become an impossible goal – the Milky Way bar. I couldn’t throw money at this problem so it would go away. My drug lord’s strategy lay in shambles at my feet.

I pondered. Maybe I can wait, I thought. Maybe someone will come in and want to buy a Snickers bar. As soon as that Snickers bar is gone, I can finally have my Milky Way.

But then I was assailed by doubt. What if no one comes? What if someone does come and they want something horrible, like a vanilla granola bar? What if they come in and actually want a Snickers, but they pick it from the actual Snickers line, leaving the offending Snickers still blocking the Milky Ways with utter impunity?

These were too many questions. I quickly grew flustered. The lack of a candy bar made me confused and frightened. I started to sweat. Where was I to go? What was I to do?

Panicked, I did the only thing I could think of. I let instinct take over, pushed two buttons and random, closed my eyes, and prepared for death.

Clunk.

I opened my eyes and reached inside the compartment. I grabbed the snack and pulled it out.

The vanilla granola bar. The goddamned vanilla granola bar. Of course.

And that, your honor, is why I threw a vending machine out a twelfth-floor window.

Seasons of Beer

How on Earth is it possible that Sam Adams Oktoberfest is already out of season? How do you justify trotting out the Sam Adams Winter Lager a full two months before winter?

On the plus side, at this rate we'll have Sam Summer back on tap circa mid-January.

The Customary Dilemma

Perhaps the most pressing question of any young person's year is the following:

Just what the hell should I be for Halloween?

It's certainly a difficult question to answer. Oftentimes, contemplation runs down the clock and there you are, an hour before the party, wrapping a roll of toilet paper around yourself so you can be a mummy. On other occasions, you spend hundreds of dollars and dozens of hours turning old televisions into an Optimus Prime costume that will be used for maybe three hours, give you a stiff neck, chafe, and then be discarded forever.

The trick, of course, is to find the happy medium. For a slightly lazy twenty-five year old with little-to-no artistic vision, this can be a daunting task indeed.

At the very least, we all know that a costume cannot be repeated. It would be like telling the same joke twice. Therefore, the following costumes are off-limits:

Nacho Libre: Perhaps my finest costume since 01's Austin Powers. It is always best to pick a costume which is close to your heart. Here we have many things: Mexican. Portly. Prone to wrestling. Likes to show off. Hell, I even went to a Marshall's and bought myself a pair of women's underwear, size 14, of a glowing silver with red stars on it. The perfect outerwear. A serape as a cape, a torn wife-beater, and I was set. People were taking pictures of me in the subway. It is amazing what stretchy pants and a mustache will do.

An INS agent: My train of thought: I need a costume for Halloween. Halloween is supposed to be scary. What scares me the most? And presto, a federal was born. Khaki pants, short-sleeve khaki shirt, aviators, a black hat, a dog tag, a badge, and an instinct to shoot anyone beyond "off-white." Done.

Party Boy: No, not the one from Jackass. This, I must admit, was one of those there's-an-hour-before-the-party costumes. Basically, I took every piece of drinking paraphernalia I have acquired over the years -- beads, lei's, a boa, plastic wristbands, more beads, a mask, and viking horns -- and threw those all over nothing but ripped shorts and an unbuttoned baseball jersey that said Beer Marathon on the back. Not a terrific costume, but at least I was something. Also, the number of beads I have is frightening. Yeesh.

Before these, memory fails me. Therefore, if I cannot remember them, they are fair game again. The problem is, I'm having trouble coming up with anything.

I thought perhaps I could go as the Bear Jew. I would only need some Nazi scalps, a bat, and a wife-beater. Unfortunately, it seems very few people actually saw Inglourious Basterds. Also, it's not a terrific costume.

Caitlin suggested I go as Teddy Kennedy. Basically, I put on a suit, don a white wig, speak in a Kennedy accent, and drink lots of scotch and hit on every woman in the bar. The problem is, people are just going to think, "Oh, that's Carlos in a white wig."

Going as one of the Wild Things would be awesome. Unfortunately, it seems like a really, really difficult costume. Remember who you're dealing with here. Max himself might be a possibility, but I have no clue where to get a wolf costume and everyone's going to do it. Next.

The old guy from Up? Perhaps. Wolverine? Maybe, it seems easy enough. Dr. Manhattan? I would, but I don't need another indecent exposure charge.

And then it hit me.

People have actually dressed up as me in the past. Seriously. They have worn a sombrero, a serape, and a name tag that said, "Carlos." I have been a costume before. It's perfect. Why can't I dress up as myself? Why can't I be so meta it hurts the brain?

This Halloween, I'm dressing up as a Mexican.

Let My Printing Go

Some undergrad made this video about BU's new printing policy. As law students, we get 1,000 pages allocated to our account, so I don't share many of his complaints, although 100 pages per student is an absurdly low number.

That said, whatever genius decided to add that superfluous second step wherein after you print something you have to go to a website and "Release" them should be taken out somewhere and shot. "Release" them? Release them from where? Are they in some cyber jail and we have to bust in and lead them to freedom? I wanted to print my deposition outline and instead have to participate in an episode of Prison Break.

Run On the Weddings

Caitlin: I'm attending at least 6 weddings next year

un.believ.able.

Me: yeah, i have 6 invites

prob going to half of them

this mad rush

i dont get it

Caitlin: yeah w.t.f.???

it must be pressure from people's parents

Me: no, it's a herding instinct
look at it this way

when we do fantasy drafts for baseball

nobody even thinks of picking a catcher until the 4th or 5th round

but then in the 3rd round, someone picks a catcher

usually because they're insane

but then everyone goes, oh shit, we're going to run out of catchers!

and everybody starts picking catchers

immediately, recklessly, and stupidly

and then we're all stuck with these catchers that we picked too early

and our draft strategy is ruined

and the season becomes a nightmare

and sometime in late july or early august

you can't take it anymore

so you dump your catcher on the waiver wire
and your season is ruined

just because of that irrational run on the catchers

Caitlin: regrets.

Me: indeed

just wait til someone has the first baby

then we'll talk

You Can Be My Wingwoman Anytime

In today's Boston Globe, presumably to celebrate the Dow crossing the 10,000 point threshold, the business section carried an article with the headline:

Tag-team dating can improve success, MIT says

I have yet to find the business angle to an article on wingmen. The reason this article seems to be in the financial section is that a professor at the Management School at MIT came up with the following conclusion:

"Friends will try to help you find partners to your liking, weed out undesirables, and support you in other ways."

Isn't this the only reason people have friends? We've all been there, right? You are sitting at the bar, half watching the game. Behind you, an undesirable lurks ever closer and closer. Then, the undesirable makes her move! Oh no! Who will save our intrepid hero?

Cue the wingman! To a soaring score, he comes back from the bar! And he has two beers in his hand! And he hands one to you, and with a cry of, "Here you go, bro," he banishes the undesirable! As the two of you clink beers in victory, the undesirable, moving its slow thighs, slouches back to its cave, to be forlorn.

By the way, the "support you in other ways" comment foreshadows a scientific study, perhaps co-sponsored by Harvard, in which scientists use science to prove -- finally! -- that "friends with benefits" arrangements never work, even though they make the most sense out of anything ever.

This presumes, of course, that you are using a woman as your wingman -- a strategy which, if used properly, can yield terrific results.

MIT researchers, now compare our behavior to animals, so that men of science may nod approvingly!

The researchers also turned to the animal world. Male wild turkeys cooperate to court a female, they note. And so too do mammals, "including lions and higher primates."

Higher primates, presumably, also includes college students.

Higher primates most definitely does not include college students. In just one night in college, friends and I had a halogen tube fight, took turns chucking a hatchet at several trees, and threw several pieces of old wooden furniture into the gorge, all while wearing full suits.

Incidentally, comparing a time honored courting practice to a mating ritual common to wild turkeys really says something about how men approach women. I suspect that something is really not good.

Take us home, Boston Globe financial section!

"Platonic friends sometimes pretend to be romantic partners to help each other in dating," the press release said. '"If you're a woman, saying someone is your boyfriend creates a barrier," says Ackerman. "If you're a guy, saying someone is your girlfriend makes you more desirable to women."'

This does two things. One, it proves that women are crazy. And two, it goes to prove my prior point, about female wingmen being better than male wingmen.

Once the presence of a woman who -- in the target's eyes -- finds the male attractive has validated the target's own notions of whether the male is attractive or not, the target's natural competitive instinct will kick in. The target will then proceed to actively (and, God willing, literally) fight the female wingman for the male. The male, would of course prefer to remind everyone that Sharing is Caring. Unfortunately, this is not Cinemax.

The female wingman, at an appropriate time, would gracefully bow out. And if she doesn't? Well, hey there. You just opened a whole new can of worms. An awesome can of worms! High five!

All Hallows' Week

This week, I was invited to a Halloween party. Terrific, right? Anything that gives me an excuse to take off my shirt with impunity is fine by me.

But then, as I contemplated any number of shirtless costume possibilities, I noticed the date of the party.

Saturday, October 24th.

Given that Halloween actually falls on a weekend this year -- a Saturday, no less -- there seems to be little reason to hold a party on any other day of the year.

Here, we have a party occurring a whole week before the scheduled event. I believe that this falls wholly outside the scope of Halloween.

In fact, there seem to me to be two perfectly good time periods to host a costume party. From about November 7th until about October 15, you're fine. These days are far enough removed from Halloween that you can costume up and have people think you are going to a run-of-the-mill costume party. And then, from October 29th until about the 3rd of November, you are close enough to Halloween that people will know you are going to a Halloween party.

But any of those other days? People will think you screwed up and are looking at the wrong week on your Google Calendar. That or you are testing out your costume in beta form. Or you're just getting a jump on your trick or-treating. All prior possibilities, of course, don't do wonders for the perception of your sanity.

Maybe I'm thinking too much about this. The people throwing this party do throw terrific parties. And, again, I get to take my shirt off.

That said, I am very hesitant to dress up myself in full costume and then hop on a T for 40 minutes to go to a party. How many people do you actually expect will have Halloween Parties a full week before it is appropriate to do so? I am reluctant to be one of the perhaps three dozen people who put on a cape and outerwear in the entire city on this particular night.

In my mind, there is little difference between this and hosting a Halloween Party on Saturday, November 7th. If I'm wearing a costume seven days after Halloween, it better be because I wandered off and have been lost for a week. A distinct possibility, of course, but nothing I would do intentionally.

So I think I'm going to pass on this one. That or I'll just dress up suit up as Barney Stinson.

Premature Ithacation

Given the afternoon snowfall, it seems that New England has decided to skip the inconvenience of Autumn and proceed directly to Winter.

This is not the earliest I've ever seen snow, unfortunately. I did live in Ithaca, the land that God forgot, for a few years. Indeed, it snowed on Oct. 2nd during my freshman year at Cornell. When my roommates asked me why I wasn't more excited -- this was the first time I'd ever seen snow -- I just pointed at the calendar and wept with fear.

Still, I feel much like a father who just realized that his eight-year old daughter has started developing breasts. You know times of tribulation and horror are inevitable. But not yet, God. Please not yet.

I was going to pretend that it wasn't snowing and live in happy denial. Then I thought that, perhaps if I don't move, the snow won't get me. Because snow behaves just like a T-Rex in a movie.

And then I realized, screw it. I'm hibernating. See y'all in April.

The Return of John Crazypants

He's ba-aaaack:

On Sun, Oct 1, 2009 at 6:01 AM, john psycho wrote:

Subject: DO YOU WANT TO RIP ME OFF MY MONEY?

Hello
Hope you do not want to put yourself into trouble, because you
dont know the kind of person you are dealing with,i will not allow you
to rip me off my money,the shipping company was supposed to be at your
location yesterday for the pick up but you never got back to me with
the western union information of the remaining funds with you.
Because i told you to make sure when you get the check to take out
your funds for the Springsteen Tickets am purchasing from you plus
$50 extra and forward the remaining balance to my shipper that will
come to your location for pick up of the ITEMS purchasing from you via
western union money transfer.
Note....
1.you can never go away with my money which i suffered for.
2.you do not even know the kind of person you are dealing with.
3.i have all our conversation saved.

i will be looking to read from you in the next 24hours.
Thanks.

On Sun, Oct 1, 2009 at 4:11 PM, you wrote:

Hello, sir!

It's great to hear from you again. As I mentioned in my previous email, you seem to have become confused and sent the check to an address in Ohio. As a result of this error, I have yet to receive a check from you. I am sure this is no problem for you -- you simply need to contact the shipper in Michigan, have them contact the person in Ohio, and have the pick-up service contact the shipping company so the funds can be forwarded via Western Union to your door in wherever you are and then we can effectuate the A-B money transfer.

I also need to know what a Western Union is, where I can find one, and if they do business on Sundays.

Thanks and get this done with one mind.

Cheerfully,
Charlie

Books With Happy Endings

So I was at a bookstore the other day, and a book caught my eye. It was Dave Egger's Wild Things -- a novelization of the movie adaptation of a seven-sentence children's book.

But what caught my eye more was its location in the bookstore:


Yes, nestled safetly in the "Erotica" section, between the Letters to Penthouse compendiums and the 'College Co-ed' collection.

I have not yet read the book, but the prospect of gratuitous wild thing sex scenes is intriguing. At the very least, it will redefine the concept of a 'Wild Rumpus.'

If I Ever Disappear, Here's Why

This is why you don't sell things on Craigslist. I have changed names and email addresses to protect the mentally insane. Please treat all of this as sic'd:

On Thu, Sept 24, 2009 at 5:23 PM, you wrote:

Hello,

My friend Adam forwarded your email seeking 10/3 Springsteen tickets to me. Since I'm the one holding the tickets, I figured it was just easier to deal with you directly.

Unfortunately, we can't take the ad down until the check clear, but if you agree to buy them, I won't try to sell them to anyone else. So what I guess happens is you mail the bank certified check to me, and when that check clears, I'll overnight the tickets to your address on the same day. Does that work for you?

My name is [Charlie] and my address is 742 Evergreen Terrace, Boston, MA, 02215. My phone is [Redacted] if you need to contact me.

Thanks and let me know if you have any questions.

On Thu, Sept 24, 2009 at 8:07 PM, john psycho wrote:

I just want to inform you that i got your information and the check
will be send to you via mail and deliver to you tommorow and i will
update you with the tracking #, also i will implore you to kindly
follow the due process in the transaction and i have include the
shipping funds to your money. and i want you to deduct your own money
and send the rest to the shipper via money transfer so that they can
come for the pick up..
Again, I will require your trust and honest towards the check
because i will not want you to dissapoint me when the check gets to
you..I believe we should have the best transaction.
Thanks and Get back to me ASAP

On Thu, Sept 24, 2009 at 9:33 PM, you wrote:

Sounds good. I'll let you know when I get the check and deposit it.

On Sat, Sept 26, 2009 at 8:37 AM, john psycho wrote:

I will implore you to wait for the check to arrive and pls make sure
you remove the items from the website to avoid any disturbance, and
pls consider it sold to me. and make sure you update me as well to
know the condition..

On Sat, Sept 26, 2009 at 3:56 PM, you wrote:

Like I said, the tickets are yours. But we won't take down the ad until the check clears, and I still haven't received it in the mail yet. As soon as it clears, I will overnight the tickets to you. Does that work? Thanks.

On Sun, Sept 27, 2009 at 7:07 PM, john psycho wrote:

Hello,
I will like to implore you to wait for the check on tuesday and i
will update you with the tracking # and the shipper information that
will have the rest fund via western union when the check clears in
your bank. so that they can come for the pick up at your place.

thanks for your trust and have a nice weekend ahead.

On Mon, Sept 28, 2009 at 10:23 AM, you wrote:

Just to clarify, have you sent the check yet? And if you haven't, the check should be in the full amount ($600) and sent to the address I have already given you. When the check clears, I will overnight the tickets to you. I will not accept later payment via Western Union.

On Mon, Sept 28, 2009 at 3:07 PM, john psycho wrote:

thanks for you response and understand over the transaction.. so i will want you to wait for the in the mail by courier service and have the check cashand deduct your own money and send the rest to the mover..thanks

On Wed, Sept 30, 2009 at 2:12 PM, john psycho wrote:

sorry for the delay of the check, i have a problem with the fedex
courier service in my area because they do not sent mail intime, so i
have decided to contact the ups for it so i will get back to you with
the tracking # before this weekend..

sorry for the inconvenience and wait for the check.

On Wed, Sept 30, 2009 at 5:23 PM, you wrote:

I absolutely need to have the check by tomorrow morning at the latest. If I do, then I can cash the check tomorrow and it should clear by Friday. Then I'd overnight the tickets to you and you'd have them Saturday morning.

Like I said, I will not send you the tickets until the check clears. If I don't have the check by tomorrow morning, it would be too late.

Please let me know how you want to proceed. Thank you.

[Ed. Note: The concert took place on Saturday, October 3rd.]

On Sun, Oct 4, 2009 at 8:43 AM, john psycho wrote:

Hi ,
Am so sorry for your late payment ,it was not my fault,am also trying
here to make everything possible,but there was a cross on the way, My
grandfather died,and i am the eldest person among others,so therefore am
responsible for all the burial arrangement,but i promise you that will
receive your payment before coming wednesday by God,s grace.
Im still interested in buying your item.Sorry once again for the delay.
I have added extra fund along with the payment im going to send to
you for delaying things
Thanks.
I will be waiting for your swift response Asap today so as to
be rest assured that the item is still mine.
Best Regards.

On Tue, Oct 6, 2009 at 11:22 AM, john psycho wrote:

Hello,
The check have will deliver to you today and here is the tracking Number from ups courier service. You can visit the website www.ups.com for the status of the check with the following tracking # 1Z61273XGHTR45359.....
I will want you to instant cash the check at your bank today so that you can deduct your own money and send the rest fund to the shipper via WESTERN UNION MONEY TRANSFER, so that they can come for the pick up at your door step.

SHIPPING INSTRUCTION...
1...You are to deduct your own money for the item i want to purchase.
2....You are to deduct $50 for your runnings around.
3...Also deduct the WESTERN UNION charges from the money going to the shipper.
4....Then send the remaining money to the mover information below..
Here is the shipper information to send the remaining funds after you have deduct your own money via WESTERN UNION MONEY TRANSFER
Receiver's Name:..... [Redacted]
Address:................[Redacted]
city........... lack city,
State:.......... michigam
Zipcode:.........49651

I will be waiting for the western union details as required in the western union receipt regards to the pick up today.
1....Senders name and address
2..Total amount sent
3..MTCN 10 DIGIT #
Mapquest to your location..
Thanks and hope to read from you asap.

On Tue, Oct 6, 2009 at 4:23 PM, you wrote:

Sir,

I'm sorry, but the concert was last Saturday (Saturday, October 3rd). Those tickets no longer exist. I will destroy your check upon receipt. I'm sorry this did not work out.

On Tue, Oct 6, 2009 at 8:07 PM, john psycho wrote:

well, help me to cash the check and deduct $200 for yourself and
transfer the rest to the information because i have informed the
shipper and he has promised me to get another items.....

thanks and get this done with one mind

On Tue, Oct 6, 2009 at 8:10 PM, you wrote:

Sir, I'm sorry. I agreed to sell you tickets in exchange for a check. We are beyond the point where the tickets will be useful, so I will destroy the check when I receive it. I will do nothing else. As far as I'm concerned, this means the end of our dealings.

On Tue, Oct 6, 2009 at 8:17 PM, john psycho wrote:

PLS HELP ME OUT I HAVE A SERIOUS PROBLEM

well, help me to cash the check and deduct $200 for yourself and
transfer the rest to the information because i have informed the
shipper and he has promised me to get another items.....

thanks and get this done with one mind

On Tue Oct 6, 2009 at 8:23 PM, you wrote:

Sir, you have involved a third party in what should have been a two-person transaction and are asking me to find a Western Union and set up some sort of deal with someone in Michigan. I'm sorry, but, like I've said, the interaction between us is over.

On Tue, Oct 6, 2009 at 9:07 PM, john psycho wrote:

WELL I DO WANT YOU TO UNDERSTAND MY MAIL, I DONT HAVE ANY MONEY THAN THIS AND I WANT YOU TO REALLY ASSIST ME IN GETTING THE MONEY OVER TO ME, BECAUSE I HAVE SPENT A LOT TO GET THE CHECK TO YOU NA DI DONT WANT TO LOOSE ALL..

I REALLY BEG YOUR PARDON

On Tue, Oct. 6, 2009 at 9:13 PM, you wrote:

Sir, this is what the tracking number shows:

Your package has been delivered.

Tracking Number:

1Z61273XRTHFG08859

Status:

Delivered

Delivered On:

10/06/2009 10:01 A.M.

Location:

FRONT DOOR

Delivered To:

CINCINNATI, OH, US

Type:

Package

Service:

NEXT DAY AIR

I have no clue why you chose to send this to Ohio. I have no idea who the shipper is in Michigan. I have never been so confused about what should have been a simple A-B transaction in my life.

This will be the last email that you receive from me. Any more emails I get from you will be filtered to my SPAM folder. I'm sorry we couldn't work something out and good luck with your check.