The half-truths, omissions, and outright lies about floating through law school.

Tuesday 04/12/05

Tuesday, April 12, 2005

Now I realize that the crack-smoking panhandler in the old neighborhood didn't get there by the virtue of strong logical reasoning skills, but this is a little too much. Why the fuck does he insist running after me in the excitement of a football player seeing a passed out freshman Tri-Delt asking for change when I am coming home from the gym? I have on shorts with no pockets and a t-shirt and my two keys are danglging from my hand. Where, Mr. Urban Blight, might I be keeping the change you are so eagerly after? Did you think I would open my my anal cavity and dislodge a wad of singles for you? Maybe I am carrying around a pouch of cash, Colombian drug-mule style taped to my stomach. And of course hearing your incoherent ramblings, I would crack it open and hand you a crip Benjamin. Or maybe I have singles stuch to my sweaty back from the gym bench. Because you see those are the only places I could have anything. Or perhaps you wanted to come back to my apartment, we could read some Gilbert's outlines together and discuss the confused state of separation of powers jurisprudence.

Of course I get home to an email from the public interest wench soliciting my yet unearned money to fund legal services for fuckers like him. Good luck with that one.


At 12:35 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

So what do you think of the Scalia brouhaha?


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