|
|
|
July 22nd, 2008
 | 10:18 am - UK Judges To Wear Headgear From Other Eras
See here for pictures
The decision of the Lord Chief Justice to abandon traditional judge’s wigs dating back 300 years is facing opposition from within the legal profession, it has been revealed. ‘First of all, we are very upset that the Lord Chief Justice told everyone it was a wig,’ said one judge. ‘If we felt self-conscious about losing our hair and chose to go into a profession in which wigs came with the job, we don’t necessarily want the boss letting everyone in on the trade secret!’
But many other lawyers are sad about the proposed break with the past and feel that the reforms are an opportunity to remember periods other than the 1700s, and so have taken to wearing headgear from other periods of England’s colourful history.
‘I sent a burglar to prison this morning wearing a horned Viking helmet’ said Judge Charles Farquahson ‘It felt really great, like I was Kirk Douglas or something. Yesterday, I presided over a complex fraud case with my hair spiked up and dyed red in the manner of the punk rock craze of the mid-1970s.’
Other judges have been appearing in court wearing Puritan hats from the late Tudor period or the cumbersome metal helmet complete with visor from a medieval suit of armour. At the Old Bailey yesterday, the courtroom all rose for the judge, only to see him enter wearing a New York Yankees baseball cap on the wrong way round.
However the Lord Chancellor has ruled against traditional horsehair wigs being replaced by the modern toupees associated with the likes of Terry Wogan or Paul Daniels. ‘No that’s getting too ridiculous’ he said ‘We don’t want the judges being laughed out of court.’
|
July 15th, 2008
 | 01:44 pm
more cat pictures
|
July 13th, 2008
July 10th, 2008
 | 01:20 pm - This is silly, but I like it
Sayings of the Jewish Buddha
If there is no self, whose arthritis is this?
Be here now. Be someplace else later. Is that so complicated?
Drink tea and nourish life; with the first sip, joy; with the second sip, satisfaction; with the third sip, peace; with the fourth, a Danish.
Wherever you go, there you are. Your luggage is another story.
Accept misfortune as a blessing. Do not wish for perfect health, or a life without problems. What would you talk about?
The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single Oy.
There is no escaping karma. In a previous life, you never called, you never wrote, you never visited. And whose fault was that?
Zen is not easy. It takes effort to attain nothingness. And then what do you have? Bupkis. (nothing!)
The Tao does not speak. The Tao does not blame. The Tao does not take sides. The Tao has no expectations. The Tao demands nothing of others. The Tao is not Jewish.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Forget this and attaining Enlightenment will be the least of your problems.
Let your mind be as a floating cloud. Let your stillness be as a wooded glen. And sit up straight. You'll never meet the Buddha with such rounded shoulders.
Deep inside you are ten thousand flowers. Each flower blossoms ten thousand times. Each blossom has ten thousand petals. You might want to see a specialist.
Be aware of your body. Be aware of your perceptions. Keep in mind that not every physical sensation is a symptom of a terminal illness.
The Torah says, Love your neighbor as yourself. The Buddha says, There is no self. So, maybe we're off the hook.
|
July 8th, 2008
 | 04:16 pm - Our Great Trip North
Hubby, friends, children and I (six adults, three kids) drove in convoy to Big Basin and stayed in the tent cabins for four days. This was relaxing like melting in hot butter, but not much actually happened. We ate, we slept (a lot), we walked around, we looked at redwoods. The kids had a blast. Half of the big trees have been struck by lighting, leaving them with caves and even tunnels at the base -- a natural playground. Plus, the tent cabins were swarming with other kids. Our children joined the swarm and we only saw them at meals. Scrapes and mosquito bites were the only downside.
On the fifth day, three of the adults headed for San Francisco. Hubby, Chris, and I took the kids to Point Reyes for an overnight backpacking trip. Little Girl carried her pack like a trooper, and we hiked 1.8 miles to the beach campground, where we saw:
dozens of lilac trees in full bloom, adding sweetness to air that already smelled like seawind and dry bracken,
a lonely old sycamore tree, the largest I've ever seen, bark polished by hundreds of climbing feet, standing tall on the coast. At dawn, as the fog rolled out, the sun burned through the leaves and turned it into a glowing silhouette, streaming vaporous light.
two large ravens squabbling with a turkey vulture over something dead,
five or six shy brown rabbits,
four or five scurrying pheasants,
a doe who came out of the brush before dawn and made a sign to her two fawns that our campground was safe, despite the number of eyes gawking at her. They bounded into the open, went right up to her, and began to nurse.
two more deer standing in the trail on the hike back who let us get fairly close before bounding away, and
an unknown number of racoons (presumably) who opened up the locked metal storage box provided to our campsite and made off with nearly everything we had brought along for breakfast in the middle of the night. We hiked out with rumbling tummies.
After a large brunch at IHOP, we also headed to San Francisco. First Golden Gate Park where we saw the Chihuly exhibit at the de Young Museum, and the Japanese Tea Garden, where we could have spent all day taking photos of dollfies next to bonsai trees and miniature shrines if Hubby's camera had fully charged batteries.
On the Fourth, we went to Fisherman's Wharf and saw the Musee Mecanique. It contained lots of steampunk-esque devices in wood and brass, several fortune-tellers and pinball machines, and (to my dismay) Galaga and Ms. Pac-Man -- the only two video games I ever played more than once. My favorite was The Haunted Graveyard -- the one with the drunkard lying in the graveyard with all his bottles featured in American Gods, but instead of the figure with the long beak, there was a ghoul behind one tombstone and a devil behind another, and no sexton came out to set things right. Another good one was The Opium Den, in which small figures lie around half-dreaming, then rouse to alarm when the skeletons are revealed behind the doors.
More later, perhaps. Good to be home!
|
June 27th, 2008
 | 09:10 am - A Very Quick Post
to summarize my life.
1) I am BUSY. Ridiculously, ludicrously, God-I-don't-have-a-life busy. Because I have to meet at least three deadlines before
2) I go on vacation. Tonight. We're going to Point Reyes and San Francisco. Hopefully, it will not be on fire. I will be back July 6. I love you all and will miss you.
3) Escrow closes on July 1. Hurray! We have a house! *big smooches to the wonderful hubby who made it happen*
4) I have writer's block. Possibly due to (1) above, but there may be other issues.
|
June 26th, 2008
 | 11:16 am - From Karindira, bless her heart
It's a meme!
* Post 3 things you've done that you don't think anybody else on your friends list has done.
* See if anybody responds with "I've done that." If they have- add another!(2.b., 2.c., etc...)
* Encourage your friends paste this into their own journal to see what unique things they've done.
1. Graduated summa cum laude from law school.
2. Been hung on John Mellencamp's basement wall (in a painting, not personally. Thank God).
3. Wrote an RPG published by Atlas Games.
|
June 21st, 2008
 | 05:24 pm - Hell Hath No Fury
like some of the older feminists railing at the ungrateful youth of today -- and by youth, I mean forty-something. It went something like this:
Older female lawyer talks about her horrible experiences as a professional woman: belittled, repeatedly harassed, groped, and even raped.
Younger female lawyer talks about her experiences today as a professional woman: a successful career, no groping, harassment limited to the occasional off-color joke, and ends with "Reality is what you make it!"
Older female lawyer translates this as meaning younger female lawyer thinks it was her own fault she was belittled, harassed, groped and raped. Asks younger female lawyer if she is a big, burly football-player type of woman -- maybe that's why nobody bothers her.
Younger female lawyer responds that she is offended by the question.
Older female lawyer says, "[name], you are another smug voice of the younger generation who did not have
to suffer as much abuse as the older women in the profession. Knock it off. "
You women out there of my Mom's generation, do you all feel this way? Didn't you go through hell so that we, your daughters, would not have to? Didn't you want us to be happy, confident -- yes, even smug? Are you upset that you were successful? (Well, partly successful -- let's not talk about what women go through in the military, for instance).
|
June 3rd, 2008
 | 11:45 am - Dis iz fur ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) lord_gloria
see more dog pictures
|
June 2nd, 2008
 | 08:52 am - Memes and updates
A colleague who took this test learned that she was a Jack Russell Terrier and became quite upset, insisting that she was a MUCH BIGGER DOG.
What's been happening...
1) Had my 21st wedding anniversary on Saturday! That's right, my marriage is now old enough to drink. We went to Island Prime and split a bottle of wine and a decadent meal. How decadent, you ask? It was truffle-oil decadent. Bankrupt-a-third-world-country decadent Never-need-to-eat-again decadent. It wasn't quite served-by-naked-supermodels decadent, but pretty close. Then we had a long walk along the waterfront, two or three miles. Just enough to work off the lobster bisque appetizer, and regain sobriety.
2) This case prompted me to write this letter (third one down) to the editor on Friday morning.
3) Some of you know we've been trying to move house. Still no luck... *bleah*
Peace out, y'all.
|
May 16th, 2008
 | 10:58 am - HA!
I'm a Ford Mustang!
You're an American classic -- fast, strong, and bold. You're not snobby or pretentious, but you have what it takes to give anyone a run for their money.
"Take the Which Sports Car Are You? quiz.
|
May 13th, 2008
 | 11:59 am - I get even more cynical.
There is a reason that we Americans elect our Bushes, Reagans, Clintons, Nixons, and so on.
Because:
To be a superpower, to guarantee freedom to citizens, to provide to many a level of comfort so luxurious that an eighteenth-century king would envy it -- in short, to make sure we can always do what we want, drive where we want, buy what we want, and eat what we want,
It is continuously necessary to burn a small child to death in the most horrible, painful manner possible. Other atrocities are necessary too, but this is probably one of the worst, so it will do as an example.
Sometimes, frying the baby really isn't intentional or direct, though on other occasions, it is. But everyone involved knows that the child will die as a result of the action taken.
Some are willing to do it. These are the people who get elected. That is what we mean when we say, "He (or she) is tough enough to do the job." That is why Obama's "experience" and "readiness" is in question: because so far as we know, he has never shared any of the responsibility for burning a child alive before, except as a taxpayer.
We elect the willing so that those of us who are okay with baby-burning will be gratified, and those of us who are not okay with it can still go on living a life of ease, and blame the President. Let him shoulder the burden. After all, if he is George W., he will never even notice. (Compare W's face with a picture taken before 2001. Does he really look any different?)
I will vote for Obama because I want to believe him when he says that we don't have to fry any more babies. That the necessity was all a delusion on the part of Bush (and Clinton, and Bush, and Reagan, and so on) and his cronies, and those voters who are down with baby-burning. But I expect that, if elected, Obama will look twice as old by the end of four years. Remember what happened to Carter?
If I really wanted to help Obama, I'd vote for McCain (who is probably some kind of android created in a secret military or government lab back around the end of World War Two). But that would be giving up hope.
|
May 9th, 2008
| 10:20 am - Weeks go by and still nothing but memes
Your Score: Merchant of Venice You scored 44% = Tragic, 52% = Comic, 39% = Romantic, 31% = Historic
You are The Merchant of Venice. Set in the beautiful "city on the sea," The Merchant of Venice is a romantic comedy about a locally prominent sea merchant who agrees to take on a costly loan from a covetous money usurer in order to finance his friend's trip to Belmont to woo a rich and beautiful lady. When the loan defaults however, the merchant's life is at stake, but with the help of his friends, he is saved at the last second and everyone lives happily ever after. What your score tells us about you is that you are most likely a romantic person who is willing to go to extreme measures to help out a friend in need. For this, you are highly regarded and loved by many people. You may be a bit greedy at times, and sometimes you might even get yourself into a little trouble, but luckily you have friends that are willing to help you out in your time of need. We'd certainly help you out if we could.
|
April 29th, 2008
 | 09:20 am - Meme me, baby
|
April 21st, 2008
| 11:11 am - Writer's Block: Almost Famous
For writing the Great American SF/F novel and for bringing down the corrupt prison system one inmate at a time. But I would rather be reputable than famous.
Current Mood: ![[mood icon]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/charitycam/goth_girl/surprised.gif) awake
|
April 20th, 2008
 | 04:14 pm - A question for slashers
If the hot relationship between two male characters is established in canon (e.g., Torchwood) is fan fiction about it still called slash?
|
April 17th, 2008
| 08:26 am - Hate Being Sick
Being sick is no fun if you are too weak to do anything, but too feverish to sleep. That was yesterday. Today, I am strong enough to work, but sick enough to hate it. More green tea, please. Just hook up the I.V., there. Thank you.
Congratulations to winter_elf for surviving another tax season. I won't be seeing you tonight to say it in person, so... *hugs*
Current Mood: ![[mood icon]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/charitycam/goth_girl/okay.gif) blah
|
April 11th, 2008
 | 02:00 pm
I won the case. :D
|
April 8th, 2008
 | 08:31 am - My Fifth Oral Argument
Fellow appellate lawyers say that after the fifth time you go argue an appeal in person, you stop being nervous about it, so I guess yesterday was a milestone. It was an easy one too, because the Court of Appeal in Los Angeles invited me to come and argue -- always nice because then you know they will actually listen and ask questions instead of staring at you like a row of toads in black robes. The justices were extra-polite this time because we had an audience -- a bunch of seniors from two local high schools. Their questions were simple because they wanted the kids to understand what was going on. I actually had fun. I talked a blue streak when there was a question and answer session afterwards. I even got a couple of laughs. Amazing.
Driving up north on Sunday, I was struck by the transition on the I-5 between Orange County and Los Angeles County. It was almost freaky. The smooth, elegant new concrete walls and barricades of OC with their flower-tile decorations gave way to ugly, rusted guardrails, the landscaping turned to dirt and patches of weeds, the traffic around me doubled, average speed dropped from 75 to 15 mph, and -- I swear -- ominous black clouds covered the sun. It was like going to another planet.
I got to stay at the Biltmore overnight -- every bit as luxurious and glitzy as a hotel on the Strip in Las Vegas, but without the slot machines. Healthy, happy, attractive people inside, dirty, hollow-eyed street people outside, and a large number of well-scrubbed, black-clad, mostly brown-skinned hotel employees standing guard in between, because God forbid any contact should occur. Food -- $30 entrees inside, really cheap crap outside. I didn't know it was possible to ruin a bagel with cream cheese, but somebody on Fifth Avenue managed it. All I can say is, downtown Los Angeles has no middle ground that I can find.
|
April 1st, 2008
| 09:23 am - Two Weeks of Silence and All I Post is This Stupid Meme
Created by OnePlusYou - Free Online Dating
|
|
|
