Make Fun of Europeans

. . . because let's be honest, nobody likes an LLM.


There's been some crazy stuff happening on the other side of the pond recently.  Britain published another one of its crazy studies recently.  This one informs us that it turns out it's not safe to drive and listen to sports on the radio.  According to this story:

[R]eaction times were slowed by up to 20 percent when drivers were listening to sports, adding nearly 20 feet of additional stopping time for a car traveling 70 mph. . . .  “To put this into context, this increase in distance traveled is 10 per cent further than the additional stopping distance when driving with a blood alcohol level at the U.K. legal limit,” the report read. . . .  “At particularly tense times, such as penalty shootout, it may be safer to find a safe place to park and enjoy the action without risking an accident,” Dr. Nick Reed of the Transport Research Laboratory said.

Penalty shootouts are particularly tense?  And I can't fathom listening to sports like soccer on the radio.  I can just imagine it now.  "Smith kicks the ball to Michaelson.  Michaelson dribbles.  Oh, Green took it from Michaelson.  Green dribbles and kicks it down the field back toward Smith.  Smith takes it and kicks the ball to Michaelson.  Michaelson dribbles.  OH DEAR GOD, NOT AGAIN!  Green stole it from Michaelson."  STOP IT BREACHER!  ENOUGH!!  Thank you voice in head for making me stop. 

Also in England, and this an issue ripe for testing in a Crim question, a man killed his wife over a game.  And the game wasn't a round of "Let's Only Put It Half Way In" with the neighbor.  No, it was bridge.  Here's the story:

A British man murdered his wife after constant arguments about her ability to play bridge, a court heard Tuesday. Stephen Green, 52, is accused of stabbing his wife Carole to death in January, after fights about her card playing.  Carole Green's body was discovered at the couple's home three days after the prosecution claims she was killed by her husband.  She suffered about 100 injuries to her upper body and neck.  Green, who denies murder, was found by police in the bath with cuts to his wrist and appeared "unfazed" when arrested.

Thank goodness he never got mad at his kid for screwing up while playing Uno. 

In France we're also reading fact patterns that might show up on the Test.  An AirFrance agent was held for stealing from passengers.  More details:

French police have arrested an Air France stewardess on suspicion of stealing thousands of euros in cash, cards and jewelry as passengers slept on long haul flights, a newspaper reported on Tuesday.  "Her bank accounts showed an absurd gap between her lifestyle and her declared income," the newspaper quoted a police investigator as saying.  Police launched an investigation in January after about $5,170 was stolen from five passengers. The robber took advantage of sleeping passengers, taking euros, yen, and Swiss francs as well as watches, jewels, credit cards and even cheque books. Since January, there have been about 140 thefts, the newspaper said. "The Japanese were ideal prey because they travel with lots of cash -- euros and yen -- instead of paying with credit cards," a police source said.

Ha, she even targeted the Japanese.  So here's the Essay Prompt: Whose law applies?

Curmudgeon Father Time Teaches Us All New York Law

For those of us that paid on time, we get everything we need to know for the NY day of the bar in nine hours today.  I wish I had never gone to class.  Really I do, although then I'd likely fail.

Our instructor is Leonard Lakin dressed in a white suit:

He kinda reminds me of a hybrid between Father Time and Andy Rooney

As always, if you have more, let us know in the comments or via e-mail.

So far, one guest addition, Carl Reiner in Ocean's Eleven - a personal favorite movie.

Plan and Dream

Are you ready? It’s almost here. No I’m not pregnant. I’m talking about the bar exam. Which is kind of like a baby, right? I’ve found that I’m really getting to the point where everything that I have to do that isn’t bar related (with the exception of my Sunday softball game, Wednesday trivia, and periodic beers) is getting pushed off until some magical time in the future. I call that magical time: AUGUST.

Up to now, it’s been a distant thought, but it’s close, so what are you going to do in August? Like many of you, I’m taking the best vacation of my life. But that’s not what I’m talking about. There are things I have to do. For example, I haven’t read a book that wasn’t published by Aspen, Foundation Press, or West in three years. So I’m looking for books to read that have nothing to do with the law – please recommend. And I do one day want to read Grisham again, but not in AUGUST.

Got ideas? I want to hear them. It’s almost like I’ve forgotten what to do when I’m not studying. It's like a foreign concept. For the last 11 months it's felt like I never woke up without a to do list.

Upon completion of the bar, I know I’m going to partake of a beverage.  Maybe twelve.  It will be glorious.  I'll probably be drunk or hungover from the end of the bar through the end of August.  Then we'll see if the PTSD sets in or if I can make suicide jokes again and people will know I'm kidding instead of wondering if I'm serious.  (Please tell the voices to leave me alone).

Sobriety will eventually come.  At least for a few hours.  And that will be in AUGUST.  Maybe I'll watch television. (My DVR is exploding, anyone else?)  Maybe I'll watch movies.  Maybe I'll just watch the birds chirp and not think about whether they're wild animals trespassing on my land and my subsequent duty of care to invitees in "MultiState".  Maybe I'll even keep blogging (although probably not until SEPTEMBER - make sure to add this blog to your RSS catcher or Google Reader or whatever you use so that yo don't miss the new installments that arrive when we start writing again after the blog). 

This great "Tomorrow" will come soon.  But it won't come soon enough.  I have to get back to the flashcards - maybe those will start a nice bonfire in AUGUST.  Hmmmmmmmm.

Property on fire.  Fuck!  What are the elements of arson again?

Song of the Day

Ready?

Get Mocked by Your Loved Ones

As I mentioned in a previous post, you have loved ones. Your couch, your TV, that shitty pizza joint down the street, whatever ice cream is in your freezer. These are all the things you love.

Or at least you used to love them. Now many of these things have turned against you. The pizza place that you have eaten at every day for the last 6 weeks? Running out of choices, and the guy behind the counter clearly thinks you live a sad, horrible life. He's a 16 year old stoner. Along with the pizza, your freezer-ice cream has has added 17 pounds in the last two months. You weren't exactly Nicole Richie before that, either.

Remember how much you used to love your couch? You would spend hours in its loving embrace. When you were tired, it provided a spot to rest. When you were hungover, it would hold head. And it never got jealous of the TV. In fact, it was happy to support your love for the TV.

Ah, the TV. It used to provide such beautiful entertainment. Shitty daytime talk shows. Stupid sitcoms at night. Mid-90s movies starring Richard Gere, fleshed out with 7 minute commercial blocks. Random shows about animals. Random shows about virtually any life choice: chefs, fishermen, gold diggers, midgets, living in Jersey. All of them were there, and many made you feel better about your life choices.

Now the TV is your enemy. Every time you see it, you want to cry. It is sitting there, blank and lifeless. You know it is mocking you. Behind that black screen lies entertainment and sweet relief. And you see it every morning as you slowly make your way to whatever hell you go to when you study.

Finally, there is your bed. Your bed remained your ally the longest. It was there when you finally shut your computer down and wandered back home at night. You could crash into it, close your eyes, wipe your brain, and forget about the bar's terrible specter for a few hours. Finally, it happened. You knew it would, dreaded it, in fact, but it was bound to happen. You arrive at the bar site. You are late. You start taking your exam. The essay appears to make no sense, and the proctor keeps staring at you. Suddenly, you are being accused of cheating. The proctor is trying to take away your answer sheet; you are fighting backing, protesting your innocence. Everyone around you is staring. You seem to be short on clothes. And then you wake up. Bar nightmares. Damnit, even your bed has finally turned.

Slightly-less-distant binge drinking.