Home, Sweet Home

Ah, Thanksgiving.

If you couldn't guess from the title of the post, I managed to make my way home for the holiday thanks to some financial generosity from my parents. Flew out of New York on Tuesday night via JetBlue and arrived in Sacramento at around 10:30 PM. By the time I made it home, everyone was asleep, so I wolfed down some ham and cheese on a baguette, spent some quality time with my dog, and passed out.

The next morning, thanks to the time change, I woke up bright and early, despite being exhausted from class and traveling the day before. Got to meet my younger bro's girlfriend, whom he met - suprise, suprise - at his work ... a biotech company. And, to make matters even more unoriginal, he is spending all of his time with her, alternating nights at her place and his. I swear, he is utterly incapable of learning from my mistakes. Must be genetic or something.

At some point, Justin left to drop her off in Sacramento, and I tried to do some work. Problem was, I couldn't concentrate, so I ended up just hanging out with my folks, watching Elf and eating a delicious dinner in the process.

Later that night, Chris and Derek came through to hang out for a bit. We watched some TV, drank a few brews, and reminisced about the good ol' days. Great to see them, as always, but it's kind of pathetic that, in our old age, we now opt to stay in to watch Wild Boyz rather than go out and be wild boys. Oh well, socializing in Fairfield could easily end in a drive-by, so maybe staying in the relative safety of home was a good call.

Thanksgiving day offered no surprises. Went to Scottie's that night, which also offered no surprises, as the whole FF gang was there. Actually there was one surprise: instead of playing beer pong or pool, everyone was playing chess. Bay Area rap still supplied the ambiance, but the mood was decidedly less gangster, which I appreciated.

Friday: ate a Dave's burger, which wasn't as good as I remembered, but still better than the Corner Bistro. Perhaps the decline is due to the proprietor's recent legal problems. Seems that ol' Dave wanted to give something back on November 2nd, so he promised a free burger to anyone who voted. Apparently, the line was out the door, down the street, a testament to the value-sensitive people of Fairfield. The FBI, however, caught wind of his devious plot, and came down hard on Dave, who must have been unaware that rewarding people for voting is unlawful. During my admittedly short visit, I didn't notice him making the burgers, so it is quite possible that he is in the slammer once again (tax evasion last time, fyi).

Another Dave - a friend from high school - was at Dave's, however. He had been deployed in Iraq for about five months, starting 3 and a half weeks after the initial push. We spoke at length about everything going on over there and his experiences as a combat engineer. I must say, it was incredible to hear about the reality of the situation and all the peculiarities of war. For instance, in order to stay moderately comfortable in the oppressive heat, they would splay out on the cold granite floors of Saddam's mansions and palaces. Most amazing of all, was the perspective that he came back with. Over the course of our hour-long discussion, he put forth a very clear, rationale vision of what was working and what wasn't. Impressed the hell out of me, that's for sure.

Saw the Incredibles that night, which was fantastic in spite of the 5-minute "short" prior to the start of the flick that involved a dancing sheep.

Next day, met up with some girls from high school and bravely ventured over to the so-called "Homie Thanksgiving," put on by all the "homies" from the old "'hood". Never been to one of these before, but this is only the second annual, so I haven't missed much. Can't give many details about the event because it was just way too odd for me to describe (for example, the "homies" are interested in starting up a church to swindle money from unsuspecting Christians), but I was happy to see that at Homie Thanksgiving, they did actually eat a turkey (two, in fact).

Bright and early the next morning, woke up and caught a flight back to the Big Apple. Took the subway back from JFK and encountered no problems. I must be beginning to figure this place out. Next step, taking down Trump.

Case Round-up

Something I did not initially expect from law school was that I would be as interested in the material as I am. Now, it's not what your thinking. I mean, causation and promissory estoppel are great and all that, but what I really find compelling are the more bizarre cases. Torts, for instance, serves up some particularly choice morsels. For your sampling pleasure, here are a few of the more interesting cases I've run into lately while reading my Torts casebook:

Summers v. Tice: Three guys go hunting - one is a veteran hunter, the other two are novices being trained. Expert leads with the other two flanking him, one to each side. He flushes some quail from off to one side, which then proceed to fly right behind him. Both novices open fire on the quail - and on the expert, who loses an eye in the process.

Lindley v. Knowlton: Some children are attacked by their neighbor's chimpanzee (don't you hate it when that happens?). The mother recovers damages for trauma she suffered as a result of fending off the attacking primate. This case is from 1918, if you were wondering.

There are more, but I'm tired.

"I just blue myself."

Wow, Arrested Development is hysterical. Unless I'm watching Ali G or a Seinfeld re-run, TV programming is pretty much incapable of making me laugh. But not with Arrested Development. Sitting alone in my room, watching through my laptop and the USB TV Box I purchased for fifty bucks, Arrested Development has got me demonstrating LOL over and over again.

Ro, don't be upset.

Sylvie made me do it.

I didn't even want to, but then I realized that I should have some record besides my shotty memory of what has happened in NYC. Don't worry, this insignificant little thing isn't going to be eternal like Rodion.net - it's got no staying power. Even if I tried, I couldn't make a Fantasy Survivor half as good as yours.

Minority Report

Camel, a word which evokes images of dunes and sandstorms, is actually the name of a Korean club in midtown New York. Against my better judgment, I acquiesced to my friend Brian's repeated requests for me to join him in one of his much-hyped, whiskey-driven romps at the oddly named club last night. Suffice it to say, being the only white guy - and the tallest person in the club - led to a bewildering experience and a night I won't soon forget.

Actually, it could have been much less unusual, or at least I could have better dealt with the awkwardness, if I would have been the least bit drunk. Even after having two pitchers of sangria with dinner, and a beer or two one club prior to Camel, I was in no way, shape, or form intoxicated. Well, why not purchase a beverage, Andrew? That would seem to be the sensible thing to do to solve your problem of clear headedness.

And that is just what I did. I sidled up the bar, waited for the bar tender, who, in a strange cost-cutting measure I have never witnessed before, was also the DJ, and ordered an innocuous Bud Light. This they did not have in stock at the moment, so he instead supplied me with a Coors Light. Close, but not cigar, mon frere. While the identity of my drink was disappointing, I was at last on my way to comfort in a place where I stood out like a sore thumb.

In making this purchase, I learned something: since most of Camel's patrons originate from Seoul and are bank-rolled by some rich family member or relative (according to Brian, the resident expert), the food and drink at this club are astronomically priced. How much did I pay? Try $8 for a Coors Light. I don't even like Coors, let alone Coors Light, and I spent $9, with the requisite tip, to drink one. When I approach Brian to complain, he tells me that most people aren't even allowed in this Club unless they plan on participating in the ultra-expensive "bottle service" offered at each table. Sadly, that information, conveyed in a more timely manner, could have helped me.

So, it turned out, the thing that separated me most from the Koreans was not my ethnicity (or lack thereof) but my unwillingness to be economically eviserated on a repeated basis. In other words, I opted to remain sober and a wee bit uncomfortable.

Red, White, and Blue

Talk about a punch in the gut. Two elections in a row now my hopes have been inflated almost to the breaking point - in 2000 when the news that Gore had won Florida was mistakenly reported and in 2004 when all of the pre-election polls indicated Bush was on his way out - only to suffer a crushing defeat November 3rd. Turns out this election wasn't about the economy, the Iraq war, or health care (or the lack thereof) - it was about gay marriage and the "protection" of American values.

Protection from what? To explain the paranoa and irrationality, Middle Americans leaning to the far right must envision a doomsday scenario that goes something like this: an army of gays and lesbians coming to your town to steal your child as part of a massive gay agenda indoctrination movement, so that someday, they can take over America and, from there, turn the world into one big anti-heterosexual bonanza.

Gimme a fucking break.

Grow up all you insecure, sexually frustrated white males. Homosexuals are not competing for your marriage, your wife, your job (it's too menial), your guns, or your America.