Friday, December 31, 2010
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
The Kids Are All Right
I smell a Magnolia/American Beauty showdown at Oscar time. I'm rootin' four you, Julianne. Very Beatrice Straight, only queer. Don't Be Afraid of that Kim Darby Rip-off, Julianne. You're Oscar's in the bag! And Annette will be pissed.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Monday, December 20, 2010
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Verbatim
"Closing argument, Mr. Bloomsday?" the judge asks.
Bloomsday pushes himself up from the chair next to his client, and asks to approach the bench. He quietly requests to take one of the individually wrapped peppermints she's been offering the jury throughout the trial. "Of, course," she says. He picks one out of the dish, holds it up, approaches the jury, and sets the mint down on the front of the juror's box with mysterious flourish.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I really have an eye toward the clock here. And if I've appeared to be long-winded, I'm going to do my best not to be, now. I'm not even going to bring in the dry erase board and do my famous Dick Goddard impression of doing my weather map, here. I'm just going to talk to you.
"I mean, what I want to do in the next -- I'd say, hopefully, 10 to 15 minutes, maybe less, is give you -- what's the word...a mental blueprint of how I think you should rule on what you endured for the past couple of days, here.
"Let's, first of all, start with the burden of proof. Understand, this is not a fender-bender, this is not a civil action where you listen to both sides and decide which one you like better. This is a criminal case. And in a criminal case, I have no burden of proof. The defendant has no burden of proof. I don't have to prove anything. All I have to do is convince you that the City has failed to meet their burden of proof. The defendant and I could sit over there, and look at pictures of herself, or do a crossword puzzle. If they haven't met their burden of proof, your verdict must be not guilty. So, I just want to be clear about that with you.
"I also want to be clear -- and we talked about it initially -- this notion of what is the burden of proof? And that burden, as the court has explained, is evidence of guilt that is beyond a reasonable doubt. And what that means is that the City has to prove each and every essential element in a manner that satisfies you. It's the nature and quality of evidence that you would rely upon in the most important of your own personal affairs. That's the definition as you heard once before, and you'll probably hear again from the judge, that evidence of guilt is proof beyond a reasonable doubt.
"So, that's the preliminaries. If you don't follow those two steps, then you have violated your oath -- let's put it that way -- and you have sworn to God that you would, individually and collectively, follow those steps in your deliberations.
"There's really two broad points that I wanted to make here. One is, I should say preliminarily, I don't pick my clients. They come to me. And you may find my client annoying, or whatever, or eccentric, but that's beside the point. It really is. The point is, has the City met it's burden of proof?
"But I have to tell you that -- my personal situation leads me to say something went really, really wrong here. And I think we could hinge that moment as the moment when someone from The Plain Dealer gives my client their home phone number. No one is on trial for that. I'm not suggesting that somehow she wasn't doing anything other than trying to be accomodating. But it clearly unhinged the situation in a way that, you know, we've had to endure. But for that moment, I think, maybe we wouldn't be here because as one of the prosecution witnesses testified to, there was a better way to do this, I suppose, in their mind, and that is to just delete the voicemail messages and not bother responding.
"It may come as a surpise to know that I've been involved in criminal cases even since I was a child, and that's because my father was a criminal defense lawyer, too. And I would have to tell you something really peculiar about my childhood, and here we go.
"My father represented a horrible defendant, a rapist, who had raped little children. And the mother of that defendant, circa 1970's or whatever, '76, 77, used to call our home, repeatedly, every night. But back in the '70's if you remember, the way the phone worked was a lot different. If someone called you, back in the 70's, and you hung up on them, if you picked up your phone again, you still couldn't make an outgoing call. You couldn't call out again until the other party hung up. At least, that's the way our phone worked.
"So, the only way, in our house, that we could deal with this problem with this lady calling, rambling this, just, you know, hate infused speech toward my father, was to set the phone down on the kitchen counter, and just let her talk until she was done. And, you know, it kind of became a joke, frankly, I'm seven or eight years old. And here is this lady, screaming on the other end of this phone, you know, complete nonsense. I mean, accusatory and saying horrible things about my father and family and whatever. But the fact of the matter is that my father's response was just give her her due, let her speak, and she will get tired, and that's the end of that.
"Well, that's been sticking in my head through this trial. And it's because of the newspaper's response to what happened here -- I have made no bones about the fact that I think that the editorial board of The Cleveland Plain Dealer that is, for all intents and purposes, collectively and/or individually and/or jointly and severally the victim in this case, that's important to this case.
"It's not someone calling any one of you, individually, hundreds of times. It is someone who is calling what I think has been described as, you know, the last bastion of free speech in our society, at least in Cleveland, as it relates to a newspaper. But the fact of the matter is she's calling the highest point in the dissemination of ideas in our society. And I would say that that should go into your deliberations of whether she's guilty of harassing The Cleveland Plain Dealer by filling up their voicemail message boxes ranting about corruption, reform, and our city's only newspapers hand in those matters. I don't know how, but I think it is relevant. And I think that, somehow, this thing spiralled out of control for no other reason than somebody got scared that this lady was going to do something harmful. Is it relevant to your determination that my client never once, according to the testimony of the prosecution, called that employee's home phone number that the employee gave my client in some strange attempt to coax my client to provide her own? I think it is.
"I think it suddenly directs my client's efforts in a way that dovetails with the other part of this that I wanted to talk to you about. And that is the elements of the offense. I made it clear throughout this trial that, when you consider the elements of the offense of telephone harassment, the word "sole" or "solely" is important. And I don't know if you are going to get any special definition of "sole," but as a practical matter, we're talking about "only." The only purpose that she made those dozens, maybe hundreds of calls was to break the law.
"And I gotta tell you, I do have a dispute with my client about one point. That is, she says that this statute that she's charged with is unconstitutional. I say it's not. I say it is constitutional. I say this statute doesn't interfere with free speech. This statute doesn't impact someone's First Amendment rights because of the word "sole."
"If I call you a hundred times to let you know that you sold me a lemon car, Mr. Used Car Salesman, and I want my money back, that's not for the sole purpose of harassing somebody. It's for another purpose, it's for an additional purpose. And I'm not going to spend much more time trying to tell you what that purpose was. You could divine whatever purposes you heard in this testimony from her.
"But I would submit to you that the City has failed in its burden of proof to prove each and every essential element, specifically, that she made these phone calls solely to harass these people. She did it because she needed to express herself in a way that, you know, maybe a psychologist would say is deeply rooted in that letter to the editor that she sent to The Cleveland Press and got published way back in her childhood. Who cares? That's beside the point.
"The point is that the City did not prove to you that the only reason she called these people was to harass them.
"Now, I think I'm about to make history here as it relates to my time limit, here. And I believe it comes to this." Bloomsday picks up the individually wrapped peppermint that he set on the jury box moments ago. "Do you know what this is?" He holds it up. "This is a mint. And I'm going to make a million dollars with a new idea called The First Amend Mint. They give you fresh breath while you harass and annoy others around you!
"And I ask that when you return your verdict, that you have that First Amend Mint on your breath." Bloomsday sets the mint back down in front of the jurors. "Thank you for your time."
He walks back to the defense table and falls into his chair. The prosecutor gives his close, but Bloomsday isn't listening. His work is done. He closes his eyes as the judge instructs the jury. As the jury leaves the courtroom to begin its deliberations, Bloomsday stands up and instructs his client to do the same. He glances over and sees that the mint is now gone.
Bloomsday pushes himself up from the chair next to his client, and asks to approach the bench. He quietly requests to take one of the individually wrapped peppermints she's been offering the jury throughout the trial. "Of, course," she says. He picks one out of the dish, holds it up, approaches the jury, and sets the mint down on the front of the juror's box with mysterious flourish.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I really have an eye toward the clock here. And if I've appeared to be long-winded, I'm going to do my best not to be, now. I'm not even going to bring in the dry erase board and do my famous Dick Goddard impression of doing my weather map, here. I'm just going to talk to you.
"I mean, what I want to do in the next -- I'd say, hopefully, 10 to 15 minutes, maybe less, is give you -- what's the word...a mental blueprint of how I think you should rule on what you endured for the past couple of days, here.
"Let's, first of all, start with the burden of proof. Understand, this is not a fender-bender, this is not a civil action where you listen to both sides and decide which one you like better. This is a criminal case. And in a criminal case, I have no burden of proof. The defendant has no burden of proof. I don't have to prove anything. All I have to do is convince you that the City has failed to meet their burden of proof. The defendant and I could sit over there, and look at pictures of herself, or do a crossword puzzle. If they haven't met their burden of proof, your verdict must be not guilty. So, I just want to be clear about that with you.
"I also want to be clear -- and we talked about it initially -- this notion of what is the burden of proof? And that burden, as the court has explained, is evidence of guilt that is beyond a reasonable doubt. And what that means is that the City has to prove each and every essential element in a manner that satisfies you. It's the nature and quality of evidence that you would rely upon in the most important of your own personal affairs. That's the definition as you heard once before, and you'll probably hear again from the judge, that evidence of guilt is proof beyond a reasonable doubt.
"So, that's the preliminaries. If you don't follow those two steps, then you have violated your oath -- let's put it that way -- and you have sworn to God that you would, individually and collectively, follow those steps in your deliberations.
"There's really two broad points that I wanted to make here. One is, I should say preliminarily, I don't pick my clients. They come to me. And you may find my client annoying, or whatever, or eccentric, but that's beside the point. It really is. The point is, has the City met it's burden of proof?
"But I have to tell you that -- my personal situation leads me to say something went really, really wrong here. And I think we could hinge that moment as the moment when someone from The Plain Dealer gives my client their home phone number. No one is on trial for that. I'm not suggesting that somehow she wasn't doing anything other than trying to be accomodating. But it clearly unhinged the situation in a way that, you know, we've had to endure. But for that moment, I think, maybe we wouldn't be here because as one of the prosecution witnesses testified to, there was a better way to do this, I suppose, in their mind, and that is to just delete the voicemail messages and not bother responding.
"It may come as a surpise to know that I've been involved in criminal cases even since I was a child, and that's because my father was a criminal defense lawyer, too. And I would have to tell you something really peculiar about my childhood, and here we go.
"My father represented a horrible defendant, a rapist, who had raped little children. And the mother of that defendant, circa 1970's or whatever, '76, 77, used to call our home, repeatedly, every night. But back in the '70's if you remember, the way the phone worked was a lot different. If someone called you, back in the 70's, and you hung up on them, if you picked up your phone again, you still couldn't make an outgoing call. You couldn't call out again until the other party hung up. At least, that's the way our phone worked.
"So, the only way, in our house, that we could deal with this problem with this lady calling, rambling this, just, you know, hate infused speech toward my father, was to set the phone down on the kitchen counter, and just let her talk until she was done. And, you know, it kind of became a joke, frankly, I'm seven or eight years old. And here is this lady, screaming on the other end of this phone, you know, complete nonsense. I mean, accusatory and saying horrible things about my father and family and whatever. But the fact of the matter is that my father's response was just give her her due, let her speak, and she will get tired, and that's the end of that.
"Well, that's been sticking in my head through this trial. And it's because of the newspaper's response to what happened here -- I have made no bones about the fact that I think that the editorial board of The Cleveland Plain Dealer that is, for all intents and purposes, collectively and/or individually and/or jointly and severally the victim in this case, that's important to this case.
"It's not someone calling any one of you, individually, hundreds of times. It is someone who is calling what I think has been described as, you know, the last bastion of free speech in our society, at least in Cleveland, as it relates to a newspaper. But the fact of the matter is she's calling the highest point in the dissemination of ideas in our society. And I would say that that should go into your deliberations of whether she's guilty of harassing The Cleveland Plain Dealer by filling up their voicemail message boxes ranting about corruption, reform, and our city's only newspapers hand in those matters. I don't know how, but I think it is relevant. And I think that, somehow, this thing spiralled out of control for no other reason than somebody got scared that this lady was going to do something harmful. Is it relevant to your determination that my client never once, according to the testimony of the prosecution, called that employee's home phone number that the employee gave my client in some strange attempt to coax my client to provide her own? I think it is.
"I think it suddenly directs my client's efforts in a way that dovetails with the other part of this that I wanted to talk to you about. And that is the elements of the offense. I made it clear throughout this trial that, when you consider the elements of the offense of telephone harassment, the word "sole" or "solely" is important. And I don't know if you are going to get any special definition of "sole," but as a practical matter, we're talking about "only." The only purpose that she made those dozens, maybe hundreds of calls was to break the law.
"And I gotta tell you, I do have a dispute with my client about one point. That is, she says that this statute that she's charged with is unconstitutional. I say it's not. I say it is constitutional. I say this statute doesn't interfere with free speech. This statute doesn't impact someone's First Amendment rights because of the word "sole."
"If I call you a hundred times to let you know that you sold me a lemon car, Mr. Used Car Salesman, and I want my money back, that's not for the sole purpose of harassing somebody. It's for another purpose, it's for an additional purpose. And I'm not going to spend much more time trying to tell you what that purpose was. You could divine whatever purposes you heard in this testimony from her.
"But I would submit to you that the City has failed in its burden of proof to prove each and every essential element, specifically, that she made these phone calls solely to harass these people. She did it because she needed to express herself in a way that, you know, maybe a psychologist would say is deeply rooted in that letter to the editor that she sent to The Cleveland Press and got published way back in her childhood. Who cares? That's beside the point.
"The point is that the City did not prove to you that the only reason she called these people was to harass them.
"Now, I think I'm about to make history here as it relates to my time limit, here. And I believe it comes to this." Bloomsday picks up the individually wrapped peppermint that he set on the jury box moments ago. "Do you know what this is?" He holds it up. "This is a mint. And I'm going to make a million dollars with a new idea called The First Amend Mint. They give you fresh breath while you harass and annoy others around you!
"And I ask that when you return your verdict, that you have that First Amend Mint on your breath." Bloomsday sets the mint back down in front of the jurors. "Thank you for your time."
He walks back to the defense table and falls into his chair. The prosecutor gives his close, but Bloomsday isn't listening. His work is done. He closes his eyes as the judge instructs the jury. As the jury leaves the courtroom to begin its deliberations, Bloomsday stands up and instructs his client to do the same. He glances over and sees that the mint is now gone.
Monday, December 13, 2010
The Secret Password List
1. Potato Bug
2. Pineapple
3. Powder Blue Wig
4. If I Were a Sculptor...Heh, But Then Again, No.
5. Grew a Moustache and a Mullet; Got a Job at Chik-Fil-A.
2. Pineapple
3. Powder Blue Wig
4. If I Were a Sculptor...Heh, But Then Again, No.
5. Grew a Moustache and a Mullet; Got a Job at Chik-Fil-A.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Damn You, Assange!
Wikileaks Batman Villian Julian Assange Hacks Bloomsday Device. Plays Non-Stop RUSH; Forces Listeners to Rock.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Oh, the Tintinabulation of the Bells
If you don't know this, RUSH is coming. RUSH is so cool that all of its letters are capitalized. Their web site announces they will be filming their Cleveland concert for DVD release. I'll be standing outside Record Revolution on Coventry at midnight that day that thing's released so I can see myself looking like an awesome RUSH fan in it.
I pledge allegiance to RUSH.
It wasn't always that way, though. I've been on the fence about RUSH most of my life. I saw them in concert once. The Power Windows tour. The night before a calculus exam. I brought index cards with theorems to study. A quintessential RUSH experience, you might say.
My earliest brushes with RUSH were the loud basement moments of brotherhood. An aggressive RUSH fan in the family can get ugly. I scrutinized mystical album folds, read the realpolitik in the lyrics. I respected them, but also feared them as Canadian warlocks.
That all changed when I found Geddy Lee on the Bob & Doug Christmas Album singing, Take Off! The Canadianization of my mind was complete. I loved RUSH, but I still never plunged into their music as so many others have.
Now, Apatow has set the record straight: RUSH gets the last laugh. And Bloomsday is a big fan of those who laugh best.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Amonymous is on his second frosted with sprinkles at the Lakewood Dunkin. We are discussing our adventure to come. Playground. Target. Library.
"Here's my donut bones for you, Dad," he says, chewing. I look. He has devoured the top off of the donut and offered the rest to me.
His face is smeared with frosting from donut number one. "You're filthy. Wipe your face, please."
As he wipes, he notices a green smudge between his fingers that he can't remove. "Dad. I need help with this sprinkle stain."
"Sprinkle stain?" I say.
"Yeah, I have this sprinkle stain I can't get off."
"Bruce SprinkleStain and the SprinkleStreet Band?" I say.
"DAAAD!"
I rise to wipe his hands. "You know that Bruce SprinkleStain song about Santa?"
"Yeah."
I break into Bruce. "Oh, you better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout, I'm tellin you why..."
"Here's my donut bones for you, Dad," he says, chewing. I look. He has devoured the top off of the donut and offered the rest to me.
His face is smeared with frosting from donut number one. "You're filthy. Wipe your face, please."
As he wipes, he notices a green smudge between his fingers that he can't remove. "Dad. I need help with this sprinkle stain."
"Sprinkle stain?" I say.
"Yeah, I have this sprinkle stain I can't get off."
"Bruce SprinkleStain and the SprinkleStreet Band?" I say.
"DAAAD!"
I rise to wipe his hands. "You know that Bruce SprinkleStain song about Santa?"
"Yeah."
I break into Bruce. "Oh, you better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout, I'm tellin you why..."
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
The Birth of Luna Bloomsday
Amid the cascade of shooting stars of mid-November's Leonid Meteor Shower descended upon earth, as if hung by the stork on the crescent moon above, a feisty pup.
A Scorpio, whatever that means.
Her full name, according to court filings that would later question the legitimacy of her birth, was Luna Vaclav Bloomsday. There was dispute about the middle name. A second birth document recovered listed a different one: Vitus. At any rate, those who knew her parents well knew well that this was a Prague baby.
Molly's sip from the Cup of the Blood of the Everlasting Covenant left her spent but grateful. Luna, was, indeed a celestial phenomenon. [An aside: Hey, what about "Celeste"?] She spend her days sleeping and dreaming and eating and squirting and crying and stretching and doing all the things an embryonic Buddy Hackett would do. [An aside: Hey, what about "Buddy"?] Molly, Ulysses and Amonymous would each comment when all four where in the same room: "Hey, we're all four in the same room!" Amonymous, himself just a swaddled underweight three years back, now holds Luna. They sniff each other as all feisty pups do. The television is on. A digitally remastered episode of The Electric Company begins with Rita Moreno's cry: Hey, you guys!" [An aside: Hey, what about "Naiomi"?]
Bloomsday surveys his subterranean den. His den of pups. His subterranean den of pups, watching The Electric Company.
A Scorpio, whatever that means.
Her full name, according to court filings that would later question the legitimacy of her birth, was Luna Vaclav Bloomsday. There was dispute about the middle name. A second birth document recovered listed a different one: Vitus. At any rate, those who knew her parents well knew well that this was a Prague baby.
Molly's sip from the Cup of the Blood of the Everlasting Covenant left her spent but grateful. Luna, was, indeed a celestial phenomenon. [An aside: Hey, what about "Celeste"?] She spend her days sleeping and dreaming and eating and squirting and crying and stretching and doing all the things an embryonic Buddy Hackett would do. [An aside: Hey, what about "Buddy"?] Molly, Ulysses and Amonymous would each comment when all four where in the same room: "Hey, we're all four in the same room!" Amonymous, himself just a swaddled underweight three years back, now holds Luna. They sniff each other as all feisty pups do. The television is on. A digitally remastered episode of The Electric Company begins with Rita Moreno's cry: Hey, you guys!" [An aside: Hey, what about "Naiomi"?]
Bloomsday surveys his subterranean den. His den of pups. His subterranean den of pups, watching The Electric Company.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Friday, November 5, 2010
Reform Happens.
So, the county corruption, county reform endgame begins. Sure, there may well be trials far off in the future, but the government is abolished and replaced, January 2011.
I will not pre-judge. I will reserve judgement. I won't be all judgy about it.
But I will be paying attention. And so should you.
I will pay attention to who is quick to rubber stamp the Transition
Agenda. I will pay attention to those who question appropriations. I will pay attention to who looks like a clown on the cable access channel the city and county will pay me to host, detailing the inner-workings of a brand new government. CLEVE-SPAN. I want someone with an appreciation of geography and the Great Lakes as a vast, fresh water source. I want someone to talk about the bridge, the casino, the port, the Burnham Plan, the rivers (three within the watershed.)
I want someone who knows about what the charter says about the powers of the executive. The powers and duties of the prosecutor. The powers and duties of the Charter Review Commission.
I will presume the first order of business will be to establish a web presence for the new county government which will give live streaming video of county council and county executive matters. Transparency. An executive's blog: first person stuff, daily, from the executive, himself. Daily expenditures and revenues. Pdf format files of RFP's. An ecology assessment. A regional approach to fire/safety forces. The Justice Cystem. Indigent D'fence. County-wide utility concerns. Grid weak spots. Clean Water. Tourism. Top Ten road construction matters. Et Cetera.
I will be paying attention. And so should you.
I will not pre-judge. I will reserve judgement. I won't be all judgy about it.
But I will be paying attention. And so should you.
I will pay attention to who is quick to rubber stamp the Transition
Agenda. I will pay attention to those who question appropriations. I will pay attention to who looks like a clown on the cable access channel the city and county will pay me to host, detailing the inner-workings of a brand new government. CLEVE-SPAN. I want someone with an appreciation of geography and the Great Lakes as a vast, fresh water source. I want someone to talk about the bridge, the casino, the port, the Burnham Plan, the rivers (three within the watershed.)
I want someone who knows about what the charter says about the powers of the executive. The powers and duties of the prosecutor. The powers and duties of the Charter Review Commission.
I will presume the first order of business will be to establish a web presence for the new county government which will give live streaming video of county council and county executive matters. Transparency. An executive's blog: first person stuff, daily, from the executive, himself. Daily expenditures and revenues. Pdf format files of RFP's. An ecology assessment. A regional approach to fire/safety forces. The Justice Cystem. Indigent D'fence. County-wide utility concerns. Grid weak spots. Clean Water. Tourism. Top Ten road construction matters. Et Cetera.
I will be paying attention. And so should you.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
This Episode of The Bloomsday Device is Brought To You With Limited Commercial Interruptions by:
FIRST AMEND MINTS
FRESH BREATH. FREE EXPRESSION.
Clevelandia: Soulful Expression
Clevelandia: Soulful Expression
a pome by Bloomsday
My toaster almost killed me,
I got dog shit on my shoes,
The moon is full, now, every day,
The paper's got no news.
This tintinabulation
is a sound I cannot lose.
That germy key of liberty
Gave me the First Amendment blues.
The comic book is sacred text,
The Bible makes me snooze.
Superheroes save the day from
Muslims, Christians, Jews.
Now, tintinabulation
is a noun I cannot choose.
'though I saved a misfit "sole"
I got the First Amendment blues.
Oh, Yeah,
I got the First Amendment blues.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Bloomsday's 100th Post
Oh, We've only just begun, indeed...Mmwuhaha...Mmwuhaha...[wringing hands maniacally]
Friday, October 22, 2010
Courtroom Classroom Theater Church
I have previously described myself as a paradigm shifter in the realm of improvisational moral theater where:
IbegforjusticeandmercyinthePovertyCapitalofAmericaasmyfatherdidbeforemebeforehediedofaliquorsoakedbrokenheart.
I have also previously described a psychological construct that guides me toward "best practices" in the courtroom. I call it Courtroom Classroom Theater Church.
The fact of the matter is a public defender working the crowded, shit-stinking courtrooms of America has a choice: sit on the sidelines and do as little work as possible (a perfectly reasonable decision, given the utterly corrupt dysfunction of the justice system and the freakishly disproportionate expectations of utility the system has of it's public defenders)
OR,
stand in the eye of the storm, fight passionately, rage against injustice and it's whore-sister, corruption, and give people a voice that rises above the inhuman bureaucratic din and ceaseless hypnotic hum of the prison-industrial complex machinery.
History will reveal which path Bloomsday has chosen. But while my years of legal yoga allow me to pat myself on the back (or, perhaps more accurately, lovingly apply salve to my own whip-lash marks)the truth of the matter is that the vast majority of my clients are not innocent lambs to the slaughter: They're guilty.
They may not be guilty in a legal, semantic sense, because everyone is technically presumed innocent until proven guilty so I can just as easily say that the guy standing next to me who did what he's charged with is also, in this sense, innocent. Of course, the distinction is between actual guilt and legal guilt; actual innocence and legal innocence. Lookie here:
If these distinctions never dawned on you, then you are not a fully functioning citizen of society.
When people ask with sanctimony, "How can you defend those people?", I read the psychology behind the question. And you should know, this psychology behind the question isn't pretty. On one level, it's like asking a plumber, "How can you stick your hands in other people's toilets?" The questioner reveals disgust at the task. But there's also moral revulsion, as if the toilets don't deserve the plumber's help. It's that component of the "how can you defend those people?" question that troubles me most.
In court the other day I had the eyes of everyone upon me as I advocated for a particularly despicable soul, and I explained that I defend those charged and found guilty with honor, because I believe every one of us is more than the worst things we've ever done. I asked everyone in the courtroom to hold in their mind for a few moments the worst thing they've ever done, then imagine that they were standing in a courtroom answering for it. In that moment, with all eyes judging you, you'd want someone to remind everyone that you, too, are more than the worst thing you've ever done.
Bloomsday reaches into his breast pocket and retrieves his strange navigational tool. His hunch is correct: he finds himself perfectly balanced between the four points of the Courtroom Classroom Theater Church compass he designed for himself many years ago.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Prague Remembers Everything
The Clock Parade
We are
Trapped in Prague without passports
No hope of escape from this cage with no bars
We fend for ourselves, but mostly each other.
Huff to the top of Petrin Tower – Hitler dreamt of imploding it.
The Josevof, pristine, crumbling cemetery
Where the sons and daughters of Moses, piled upon one another, aspire for eternity.
Hitler spared that, too.
White asparagus and white cheese rolled up in cottage ham,
Broken clocks reflected on our plates.
Jazz mystics, puppets tangled by alchemists, crystalline Mozart on folding chairs,
Gun battle church basements, walking ghosts, arm in arm.
Beloved infanta, the clock parade.
Garish, weathered puppets of death and resurrection
Christ and apostles glide by on the gears.
The everlasting covenant will dong each half-past hour.
We are
Trapped in Prague without passports
No hope of escape from this bed without bars
We’re fond of ourselves, but mostly each other.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Thursday, October 7, 2010
The Month of Broke Toe-berfest
Bloomsday's gait is different now that each step is tinged with a short, sharp shock of pain, the product of a weekend home improvement injury. How could he have known that, with kitchen cupboards removed for the installation of new hinges, his opening of a waist high drawer would unleash an avalanche of pots and pans, beneath? His big toe, victimized. Such dubious cause and effect, this jostling of things beneath. There are hazards to nesting, too, I suppose, muses Bloomsday as he limps to work in odd syncopation. If there is a lesson it is this: Don't do chores in your bare feet, asshole.
Bloomsday feels the watery vibration of his cell phone against his crucifixion. He pulls the phone out of his breast pocket to see that he is already engaged in a call with his newly-sober friend, Higbee Gaines. "Hey, oops, I must have nipple dialed you..." Bloomsday apologizes.
"No, I called you, but I heard you call someone an asshole just now."
"Oh, yeah, me. I was talking to myself."
"Again? At any rate, I wanted to talk to you about that renegade priest you asked me to talk to. Do you know why he's a renegade?" asks Higbee.
"I'm on a need to know basis. No. I never thought to ask Sister Bernice or Beatrice."
"Well, you definitely need to know this: he blew up The Thinker."
This jostling of things beneath, indeed, Bloomsday muses. "I have know idea what you're talking about, but if I did, I certainly wouldn't be talking about it on my cell phone, sir. Meet me at the Rock Hall. Behind it., where the skate park was."
Bloomsday hates talking on the cell phone about anything important. He is inclined to face to face interactions. Much can be gained from face to face interactions. Much can be lost in a telephone call.
"Listen. It's not like that. They know where he is. They just haven't bothered arresting him. They want him underground. If they arrest him, he'll just be a martyr. So they leave him alone. But they won't let him preside over mass. That's his punishment. Handed down by the Cleveland Police and the Catholic church."
"You're suggesting he's on the Holy Lamb?"
"Yeah, since March 24, 1970."
Bloomsday feels the watery vibration of his cell phone against his crucifixion. He pulls the phone out of his breast pocket to see that he is already engaged in a call with his newly-sober friend, Higbee Gaines. "Hey, oops, I must have nipple dialed you..." Bloomsday apologizes.
"No, I called you, but I heard you call someone an asshole just now."
"Oh, yeah, me. I was talking to myself."
"Again? At any rate, I wanted to talk to you about that renegade priest you asked me to talk to. Do you know why he's a renegade?" asks Higbee.
"I'm on a need to know basis. No. I never thought to ask Sister Bernice or Beatrice."
"Well, you definitely need to know this: he blew up The Thinker."
This jostling of things beneath, indeed, Bloomsday muses. "I have know idea what you're talking about, but if I did, I certainly wouldn't be talking about it on my cell phone, sir. Meet me at the Rock Hall. Behind it., where the skate park was."
Bloomsday hates talking on the cell phone about anything important. He is inclined to face to face interactions. Much can be gained from face to face interactions. Much can be lost in a telephone call.
"Listen. It's not like that. They know where he is. They just haven't bothered arresting him. They want him underground. If they arrest him, he'll just be a martyr. So they leave him alone. But they won't let him preside over mass. That's his punishment. Handed down by the Cleveland Police and the Catholic church."
"You're suggesting he's on the Holy Lamb?"
"Yeah, since March 24, 1970."
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Incongruity Falls
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand.
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.
William Butler Yeats
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Sunday, September 12, 2010
...And What About Naiomi
"Love of Chair," Bloomsday remembers. That was the name of the mock soap opera on The Electric Company.
He scans the crowd of legal elites attending the gala. He sees no sign of his ersatz confidant, nor his arch-nemesis. "...And what about Naiomi," the mock announcer intoned.
He makes eye contact with a few key players, a humbled waive "hi." His boss is engaged with his labor problems. A politician not yet touched by scandal, but possibly worried, sits sifting through mashed potatoes.
The grande dame of federal court escorts her legendary lawyer husband to the bar.
"Hey, Bloomsday!" his fellow advocate whispers from behind. He turns around to find Cherry Osgood, looking inebriated. "I just saw Judge Fuckitty-Fuck picking her nose in the ladies' room." Bloomsday happens to respect and admire Judge Fuckitty-Fuck, but knows that Cherry holds a grudge.
"I just straiffed past a prosecutors' table." Bloomsday confesses.
Us poverty advocates are lowly people, out of our element in high society. We have an even more peculiar affect around legal high society: the rich lawyers. They dismiss us as proletariat. I respond that they are bourgeoisie. There is certain common ground among us. The Constitution, for example. The rights of all citizens. "I ensured the rights of 37 citizens, today. How about you?" Bloomsday thinks.
We are both architects of society, I suppose. They clean up loose ends, ensure all parties have their ducks in a row. The fixers. The closers. "Michael Claytons, are we?" We're all dressed like him, tonight. At least I am.
"Status of operations?" Bloomsday asks Cherry.
"Well, no sign of The Problem, but Johnny Ipod Lawyer says he's coming." Higbee Gaines is The Problem. He is one of their deepest friends. Booze and pills used to be The Problem that we all talked about behind his back. Now, he, himself is known as The Problem, personified. He is scheduled to join us at our banquet table, clean and sober after a 30 day stint in rehab.
Just then, with Jungian verve, he spots Higbee entering the ballroom. He's fattened up a it, and looks well in the low light. They make a bee line for each other and hug. "Do you get conjugal visits in rehab?
"Sure," says Higbee. "Daily conjugal visits with my hand."
"Hourly, probably. With both hands. I know if I was in rehab, I'd just gloomily masturbate all day."
"Nah. They keep you busy. Try to help you put a positive spin on things."
"Have you been keeping up with the corruption scandal?" Bloomsday asks.
"Every fucking word." he says. "Priceless."
Bloomsday has not heard this verbal crutch of Higbee's for months. It sounds different when he's sober.
"By the way," Higbee continues. "They also had a Wii wth Netflix. I watched every episode of Kolchak: The Night Stalker and Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew Mysteries. I also watched most of Dark Shadows, too."
"I'm impressed. And you weren't stoned or drunk for it? That sounds like progress. I presume you're prepared to rejoin the League of Extraordinary Lawyers, again? Your membership dues are paid in full."
"Ready. Prepared." This answer is a reference to an old joke about lawyers. Civil attorneys versus criminal attorneys. Civil attorneys are always prepared for trial but are never quite ready for trial. Criminal attorneys are always ready for trial, but never quite prepared.
"There are protocols for re-entry. You must submit to trial by fire. I have a case I need your help on."
"I'm in," he pledges.
I tell him about the renegade jesuit hobo sitting in sanctuary at the Convent of St. Ruth's. I don't tell him the outlaw priest who needs assistance is clean and sober, too.
"...and what about Naiomi?" Bloomsday poses the question.
He scans the crowd of legal elites attending the gala. He sees no sign of his ersatz confidant, nor his arch-nemesis. "...And what about Naiomi," the mock announcer intoned.
He makes eye contact with a few key players, a humbled waive "hi." His boss is engaged with his labor problems. A politician not yet touched by scandal, but possibly worried, sits sifting through mashed potatoes.
The grande dame of federal court escorts her legendary lawyer husband to the bar.
"Hey, Bloomsday!" his fellow advocate whispers from behind. He turns around to find Cherry Osgood, looking inebriated. "I just saw Judge Fuckitty-Fuck picking her nose in the ladies' room." Bloomsday happens to respect and admire Judge Fuckitty-Fuck, but knows that Cherry holds a grudge.
"I just straiffed past a prosecutors' table." Bloomsday confesses.
Us poverty advocates are lowly people, out of our element in high society. We have an even more peculiar affect around legal high society: the rich lawyers. They dismiss us as proletariat. I respond that they are bourgeoisie. There is certain common ground among us. The Constitution, for example. The rights of all citizens. "I ensured the rights of 37 citizens, today. How about you?" Bloomsday thinks.
We are both architects of society, I suppose. They clean up loose ends, ensure all parties have their ducks in a row. The fixers. The closers. "Michael Claytons, are we?" We're all dressed like him, tonight. At least I am.
"Status of operations?" Bloomsday asks Cherry.
"Well, no sign of The Problem, but Johnny Ipod Lawyer says he's coming." Higbee Gaines is The Problem. He is one of their deepest friends. Booze and pills used to be The Problem that we all talked about behind his back. Now, he, himself is known as The Problem, personified. He is scheduled to join us at our banquet table, clean and sober after a 30 day stint in rehab.
Just then, with Jungian verve, he spots Higbee entering the ballroom. He's fattened up a it, and looks well in the low light. They make a bee line for each other and hug. "Do you get conjugal visits in rehab?
"Sure," says Higbee. "Daily conjugal visits with my hand."
"Hourly, probably. With both hands. I know if I was in rehab, I'd just gloomily masturbate all day."
"Nah. They keep you busy. Try to help you put a positive spin on things."
"Have you been keeping up with the corruption scandal?" Bloomsday asks.
"Every fucking word." he says. "Priceless."
Bloomsday has not heard this verbal crutch of Higbee's for months. It sounds different when he's sober.
"By the way," Higbee continues. "They also had a Wii wth Netflix. I watched every episode of Kolchak: The Night Stalker and Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew Mysteries. I also watched most of Dark Shadows, too."
"I'm impressed. And you weren't stoned or drunk for it? That sounds like progress. I presume you're prepared to rejoin the League of Extraordinary Lawyers, again? Your membership dues are paid in full."
"Ready. Prepared." This answer is a reference to an old joke about lawyers. Civil attorneys versus criminal attorneys. Civil attorneys are always prepared for trial but are never quite ready for trial. Criminal attorneys are always ready for trial, but never quite prepared.
"There are protocols for re-entry. You must submit to trial by fire. I have a case I need your help on."
"I'm in," he pledges.
I tell him about the renegade jesuit hobo sitting in sanctuary at the Convent of St. Ruth's. I don't tell him the outlaw priest who needs assistance is clean and sober, too.
"...and what about Naiomi?" Bloomsday poses the question.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Save the Last Dance for Me, Madame Supreme Court Justice Sotomajor
Bloomsday's having a busy Friday. I am set for trial this morning on a domestic violence case. Defendant's in jail. It will get tried if the victim shows up. It won't if she don't.
Assuming I'm not still in trial in the afternoon, I will be in my office conducting intakes with the subjective consumers of the improvisational moral theater I work at, where I beg for justice and mercy for the poor as my father did before me before he died of a liquor-soaked, broken heart.
Then, I am scheduled to attend "The Presence of Justice" dinner/dance Legal Aid Prom where one of the living sages will appear. I hope and wish and pray, the wise Latina will grant me a knowing glance as prelude to our scorching dance.
Say the word, my sweet neo-traditionalist Rita Moreno: Let's salsa!
[an aside on this reference: as we all know, Ms. Moreno won an emmy a grammy, a tony and an oscar. But it was her dusky, lusty comic delivery on The Electric Company that mattered most. That's her screaming "Hey, You Guys!" at the beginning of each episode. So, Ms. Moreno entered that Venn diagram of mine, "Things I Yearned for in Childhood" at quite a young age. Plus, there's all that dancing and clapping on the rooftop in West Side Story. Need I remind you that The Electric Company not only delivered The Adventures of Letter Man and that ingenious silhouetted word-pome game, but also the first wise Latina AND the first magnificent Black Man in the form of Morgan Freeman. I rest my case.]
Assuming I'm not still in trial in the afternoon, I will be in my office conducting intakes with the subjective consumers of the improvisational moral theater I work at, where I beg for justice and mercy for the poor as my father did before me before he died of a liquor-soaked, broken heart.
Then, I am scheduled to attend "The Presence of Justice" dinner/dance Legal Aid Prom where one of the living sages will appear. I hope and wish and pray, the wise Latina will grant me a knowing glance as prelude to our scorching dance.
Say the word, my sweet neo-traditionalist Rita Moreno: Let's salsa!
[an aside on this reference: as we all know, Ms. Moreno won an emmy a grammy, a tony and an oscar. But it was her dusky, lusty comic delivery on The Electric Company that mattered most. That's her screaming "Hey, You Guys!" at the beginning of each episode. So, Ms. Moreno entered that Venn diagram of mine, "Things I Yearned for in Childhood" at quite a young age. Plus, there's all that dancing and clapping on the rooftop in West Side Story. Need I remind you that The Electric Company not only delivered The Adventures of Letter Man and that ingenious silhouetted word-pome game, but also the first wise Latina AND the first magnificent Black Man in the form of Morgan Freeman. I rest my case.]
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Sunday, August 29, 2010
For the West Coast Cell
Amonymous pondered the laminated place mat under his cereal bowl that showed in bold colors the United States of America. He asked about Mexico's lake, then drew his fingers westward to The Last Resort. "What do they have in California?"
"They make movies there." I say. "They have their own ocean."
"Can we go?"
"Sure. But not right now. Maybe next year. We'll drive."
Molly chimes in, "Drive one way, fly home."
"Done," I say.
Amonymous continues his cereal.
The Summer is almost over. The Fall is coming soon.
"They make movies there." I say. "They have their own ocean."
"Can we go?"
"Sure. But not right now. Maybe next year. We'll drive."
Molly chimes in, "Drive one way, fly home."
"Done," I say.
Amonymous continues his cereal.
The Summer is almost over. The Fall is coming soon.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Just So You Know...
I am at the sink this morning, rinsing dishes, fitting plates and bowls from last night's kielbasa-perogi-cake fest into the open dishwasher. Molly arrives at my side.
"Just so you know, you're supposed to leave some food on the plates so the water has something to wash off in the dishwasher. I read it in the New York Times."
Silent, I continue my task, bearing witness to the water swirling down the drain, first to the river then on to the sea.
"Just so you know, you're supposed to leave some food on the plates so the water has something to wash off in the dishwasher. I read it in the New York Times."
Silent, I continue my task, bearing witness to the water swirling down the drain, first to the river then on to the sea.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
A Trinitarian Notion: Omelas, Integration, Maelstrom
Here are three stories that changed my life. Required reading in The Bloomsday Canon.
The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas by Ursula Le Guin
Hint: Society 'n Me
The Secret Integration by Thomas Pynchon
Hint: Race 'n Me
A Descent into the Maelstrom by Edgar Allen Poe
Hint: The Courtroom 'n Me
The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas by Ursula Le Guin
Hint: Society 'n Me
The Secret Integration by Thomas Pynchon
Hint: Race 'n Me
A Descent into the Maelstrom by Edgar Allen Poe
Hint: The Courtroom 'n Me
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Monday, July 19, 2010
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Friday, July 2, 2010
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Mr. Bloomsday Goes to Washington
Must do:
National Cathedral, Bishop's Garden
Union Station
Smithsonian Metro
Hains Point
Building Museum
Native American Museum
Any CIA operatives: You must remain - at least - twenty feet behind me.
Larry Tribe: I'll be getting burned at the Omni Shoreham pool on Monday.
Barry O: I still love you, no matter what mean things they say. Faith! Hope! Jive!
National Cathedral, Bishop's Garden
Union Station
Smithsonian Metro
Hains Point
Building Museum
Native American Museum
Any CIA operatives: You must remain - at least - twenty feet behind me.
Larry Tribe: I'll be getting burned at the Omni Shoreham pool on Monday.
Barry O: I still love you, no matter what mean things they say. Faith! Hope! Jive!
Friday, June 18, 2010
"My leg hairs have officially stopped growing," chirps Molly at the breakfast table. Amonymous crunches and slurps, aloof.
"Das is good?" I ask.
"Well, it saves time in the morning, at least."
There is, inside her, our second child, growing, sapping her resources and proteins. All that wouldbe leg hair redirected, outsourced to the womb for its nutrients and cellular mass. "Perhaps we should call the kid Harry."
"Das is good?" I ask.
"Well, it saves time in the morning, at least."
There is, inside her, our second child, growing, sapping her resources and proteins. All that wouldbe leg hair redirected, outsourced to the womb for its nutrients and cellular mass. "Perhaps we should call the kid Harry."
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Musical Interlude (interluden musique)
This device is undergoing regularly scheduled maintenance. This may take several moments. Do not interrupt the device during this process. While you wait, enjoy this pleasant music engineered to calm and placate you at this time.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
In the beginning...
Life (cf. biota) is a characteristic that distinguishes objects that have signaling and self-sustaining processes (biology) from those that do not, either because such functions have ceased (death), or else because they lack such functions and are classified as inanimate.
In biology, the science of living organisms, life is the condition which distinguishes active organisms from inorganic matter. Living organisms undergo metabolism, maintain homeostasis, possess a capacity to grow, respond to stimuli, reproduce and, through natural selection, adapt to their environment in successive generations. More complex living organisms can communicate through various means. A diverse array of living organisms (life forms) can be found in the biosphere on Earth, and the properties common to these organisms—plants, animals, fungi, protists, archaea, and bacteria—are a carbon- and water-based cellular form with complex organization and heritable genetic information.
In philosophy and religion, the conception of life and its nature varies. Both offer interpretations as to how life relates to existence and consciousness, and both touch on many related issues, including life stance, purpose, conception of a god or gods, a soul or an afterlife.
In the Bloomsday Device, all life begins with raindrops.
In biology, the science of living organisms, life is the condition which distinguishes active organisms from inorganic matter. Living organisms undergo metabolism, maintain homeostasis, possess a capacity to grow, respond to stimuli, reproduce and, through natural selection, adapt to their environment in successive generations. More complex living organisms can communicate through various means. A diverse array of living organisms (life forms) can be found in the biosphere on Earth, and the properties common to these organisms—plants, animals, fungi, protists, archaea, and bacteria—are a carbon- and water-based cellular form with complex organization and heritable genetic information.
In philosophy and religion, the conception of life and its nature varies. Both offer interpretations as to how life relates to existence and consciousness, and both touch on many related issues, including life stance, purpose, conception of a god or gods, a soul or an afterlife.
In the Bloomsday Device, all life begins with raindrops.
Monday, May 3, 2010
[Placeholder Post]
Under Construction
valley vista royal view
Appalachian foothill, true
I saw upon horizon's due
valley vista royal view.
clock upon the chalkboard tray
hallway glean on summer day
follow in a plaintive line
alma mater school of mine.
cafeteria lunch line fun
burger on a soggy bun
tiny chairs by easel board
husker du is proper scored
alphabet and mathy mind
sets upon a certain kind
book group seized upon the plot
window sill and crank are hot.
Fazoli Katz Korecko, too
Simon Schneck and Dolce. Who?
Each regard
Katz and Simon Schneck Fazoli Korecko
valley vista royal view
Appalachian foothill, true
I saw upon horizon's due
valley vista royal view.
clock upon the chalkboard tray
hallway glean on summer day
follow in a plaintive line
alma mater school of mine.
cafeteria lunch line fun
burger on a soggy bun
tiny chairs by easel board
husker du is proper scored
alphabet and mathy mind
sets upon a certain kind
book group seized upon the plot
window sill and crank are hot.
Fazoli Katz Korecko, too
Simon Schneck and Dolce. Who?
Each regard
Katz and Simon Schneck Fazoli Korecko
Monday, April 19, 2010
Monday, April 12, 2010
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Molly, Please Don't Go...
Molly left today. She'll be back soon, though. I know her. But now, I'm wishing she were here...
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Friday, March 19, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Friday, February 5, 2010
Monday, January 18, 2010
Total Eclipse of the Tantrum
Amonymous bookended his day with two ferocious episodes: the first arose at a morning trip to the Rainforest, where he showed fleeting interest in the kingdom phylum class order genus species of things, and, instead, fixated on a display (near the exit, mercifully) that urged patrons to stick a credit card in to donate to environmental causes. This "game," as he called it, seemed to be the reason we came. I pulled him away from it and an unprecedented tantrum occurred. "I want to play that game!" he screamed dozens of times, kicking, flailing, refusing to be jacketed.
I med-evac'ed him to the car as he screamed and twisted in my arms. His tone oscillated from anger to sorrow, but his volume persisted all the way home to an early nap.
The second rager occurred when Molly and I picked him up from a playdate: he spent the evening with a cherished friend while we saw Youth in Revolt. His gracious parental hosts had baked cookies with the kids and Amonymous quickly flamed his demands as we packed him up for home. "I want a cookie!" An angry, violent, tearful exit and second flailing carry to the car ensued. This episode felt more like a determined protest chant than the last. "I want a cookie! I want a cookie! I want a cookie!" his shrill screams filled the car as we drove down the foggy interstate.
In the driver's seat, I quickly vetoed any bargained or threatened response. I was looking for something more...in the moment. I wanted to make it clear to Amonymous that there was nothing he could say that would get him a cookie. There was nothing he could do to change this outcome.
And then, through his screams, I heard the familiar keyboard opening. Was it? Yes, it was. The perfect counterpoint to a screaming child is a screaming Bonnie Tyler.
Turn around/Every now and then I fall apart...
I turn the song up. "There's nothing you can do that will get you a cookie."
...nothing I can do, A total eclipse of the heart.
Amonymous screams louder. I reciprocate with radio volume. "There's nothing you can say that will get you a cookie."
...nothing I can say, A total eclipse of the heart.
The song crescendos. Amonymous succumbs.
I med-evac'ed him to the car as he screamed and twisted in my arms. His tone oscillated from anger to sorrow, but his volume persisted all the way home to an early nap.
The second rager occurred when Molly and I picked him up from a playdate: he spent the evening with a cherished friend while we saw Youth in Revolt. His gracious parental hosts had baked cookies with the kids and Amonymous quickly flamed his demands as we packed him up for home. "I want a cookie!" An angry, violent, tearful exit and second flailing carry to the car ensued. This episode felt more like a determined protest chant than the last. "I want a cookie! I want a cookie! I want a cookie!" his shrill screams filled the car as we drove down the foggy interstate.
In the driver's seat, I quickly vetoed any bargained or threatened response. I was looking for something more...in the moment. I wanted to make it clear to Amonymous that there was nothing he could say that would get him a cookie. There was nothing he could do to change this outcome.
And then, through his screams, I heard the familiar keyboard opening. Was it? Yes, it was. The perfect counterpoint to a screaming child is a screaming Bonnie Tyler.
Turn around/Every now and then I fall apart...
I turn the song up. "There's nothing you can do that will get you a cookie."
...nothing I can do, A total eclipse of the heart.
Amonymous screams louder. I reciprocate with radio volume. "There's nothing you can say that will get you a cookie."
...nothing I can say, A total eclipse of the heart.
The song crescendos. Amonymous succumbs.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Friday, January 1, 2010
O'Ghoulihy Pome 01/01/10
I'd rather be O'Ghoulihy
than any other clown.
He's found the key to liberty
within this shackled town.
He speaketh truth in riddles
and with trinitarian aplomb.
He shaketh spears at hypocrites
who thinketh Claudius dumb.
I, O'Ghoulihy, arrive today
to save your souls from whoredom.
I hope and wish and dream and pray
You'll find me free of boredom.
than any other clown.
He's found the key to liberty
within this shackled town.
He speaketh truth in riddles
and with trinitarian aplomb.
He shaketh spears at hypocrites
who thinketh Claudius dumb.
I, O'Ghoulihy, arrive today
to save your souls from whoredom.
I hope and wish and dream and pray
You'll find me free of boredom.