I COULD Care Less

A law school buddy found this tee shirt at a yard sale last weekend and posted a pic of it on Facebook this morning.  Not unexpectedly, it has generated more comments than I've seen in a long time.  Obviously, this is a big "I want!" for Moogie.

And nonplus does mean what I thought it did!  Dang -- I'm good.  Irregardless.  *snicker*

A Day When Guilt is a Good Thing

This has been a very successful day in the criminal conviction of soulless, waste-of-oxygen-type folk.

#1 -- in Little Rock, convert to Islam, Abdulhakim Muhammad, accused of murdering Army PVT William "Andy" Long and shooting PVT Quinton Ezeagwula outside an Army Recruiting Office in 2009, copped a plea on the eve of trial.  Muhammad will serve life in prison, without parole, on the capital murder count, and life on 12 remaining counts, to run consecutively.  For good measure, the judge also tacked on another 180 years on firearm enhancement counts, also to run consecutively. I doubt he'll be drawing another breath of open air, and that is fine with me.

In the sentencing phase, PVT Long's father testified, "After 2 years, 1 month and 25 days, I can tell you from my experience and expertise at being a father of a murdered son, there is no closure[.]  . . . It is a myth." 

Prosecutor Larry Jegley later told reporters, "Ultimately any plea resolution has to be OK with the victim and the victim's family, [t]he Long family is merciful beyond description. And they showed mercy to Muhammad. Muhammad showed no mercy to the victims whatsoever."

It's a shame that Muhammad was tried on state charges instead of federal, meaning that he'll serve his sentence in an Arkansas prison.  It would've been pleasant to contemplate him serving time in a nice Army-friendly federal pen.  Like Leavenworth, maybe.

#2 -- this afternoon in New Orleans, a unanimous jury found former state legislator and City Council member, Renee Gill-Pratt guilty of Conspiracy to divert public funds and to loot charities for personal gain.  The jury is currently deliberating about the amount of restitution Gill-Pratt will be ordered to pay.  Prosecutors are asking for the tidy little sum of $1.4 mil. Hopefully, there will also be an orange jumpsuit added to Ms. Gill-Pratt's wardrobe.  I'd say she could pull off orange, wouldn't you?

#3 -- with the third thing being the charm -- Bring On Maxine Waters!

Honestly, does she ever shut up?!?!  Anyway -- let's keep this roll going!

White House Debt Summit/Showdown

I missed the news coverage of today's Debt Ceiling Summit at the White House as it happened.  Pepper provides this description: the Young President wore a grim expression and had his nostrils pointed toward the sky while chomping on gum.  (I'm guessing Nicorette.  And I seriously doubt whether he has actually kicked the habit.)  He doesn't look very happy in this picture.

You'll be pleased to know that Speaker Boehner is sipping hot tea.  Not coffee, hot TEA.

Heh.

Played for effect nicely, Mr. Speaker.

Debt Crisis, Tea Party, and Brinksmanship

This is kinda interesting.

First, the Young President was not really "aware" of the Tea Party" protests.  April 15, 2009.

Then, the Young President referred to a bunch of folks "waving tea bags around."  May 2, 2009. So, I guess a voice was sounding through the din.

Next, there were the 2010 mid-term elections.

Today, the mainstream media blames the Tea Party for shutting down negotiations and moving us toward a default on debt.

We've come a long way, Baby.

Don't back down.

Seriously.  Don't back down.  Cut the spending.  Now.

(P.S. -- is our president a petulant schoolboy, or what?!?!  Pepper says if he were Boehner, he wouldn't show up tomorrow, and might just send out an email scheduling a bi-partisan/Executive Department meeting at 10:00 at the Capitol building, before the YP's summons for the same thing at 11:00 at the White House.  That'd be cool!  Then maybe they could have lunch in the West Wing afterwards.  I'd serve Chicken salad.)

Common Sense Isn't Dead Yet!

Photo from Times-Pic

The Benedictine Monks are doing a happy dance -- they'll be able to continue their casket business!

I love it!  This afternoon, Federal District Judge Stanwood R. Duval, Jr., (how's that for a southern name!) ruled that the Louisiana embalming and funeral directors statute administered by the State Funeral Board is nothing more than unconstitutional protectionism of the funeral industry!

I mean, seriously -- threatening to jail a bunch of monks for making and selling simple wood caskets?!?!  Stevie Wonder, and our little Rosie, could see through that protectionist scheme. 

Of course, the Funeral Board plans to appeal, claiming there is an adequate rational basis for the law.  Rational from their business perspective, perhaps.  But rational in the real world?  Not a chance.  Let's hope the Fifth Circuit doesn't buy their argument that the law is designed to protect consumers.

It  looks like the monks can put that casket for Common Sense (and the Constitution) back into storage -- for awhile, at least.  Happy Day!!

No Keymaster, Just a Gatekeeper

Just so you don't have lizard withdrawal, voila:

The gatekeeper at Moogie's Mansion.

Musings: Legal Education in a Different Vein

I was watching "Horrible Bosses" on the Jaywalking segment of The Tonight Show last night and it brought a rather unpleasant memory out of hiding.  Not as bad as some of those, but unpleasant nonetheless.

There weren't a whole heckuva lot of lady lawyers in Arkansas when I graduated from law school.  I was only the second to be hired in my firm (even though most of the new-hire associates and clerks in the next few following years were ladies.  Or women, at least.)  In those days, the late 70s/early 80s, there was still a "Men's Grill" at the Little Rock Club where a whole lotta gender-segregated business went down during the lunch and cocktail hours -- the Men's Grill was open only to folks with external plumbing.

I had done a lot of grunt work on one case -- research, writing pleadings and motions, tracking things down.  I remember, two senior partners (one of which was my cherished mentor -- a friend of my father; the other was Daddy's fraternity brother) and I had been in the large conference room for hours with opposing counsel, working on settlement negotiations, when it got to be about lunchtime. 

At a break, just as we were getting really close to a settlement, Fraternity Brother stood up, stretched, and announced, "Let's take this over to the Club."  Everyone stood up but me, gathered what they needed, and headed for the door; Mentor was the last in line.  I'm certain that my face flashed twelve different shades of red. 

As they filed  out of the room, I stood, and as I straightened my files and picked up my coffee cup, Mentor turned to see me preparing to head to my office upstairs.  He said, "Oh.  Moogie.  We can go to the regular dining room instead of the Grill."  I thought it over for a minute and told him, "No, that won't be necessary; just let me continue to bill over lunch while I get these notes cleaned up."

I'll never forget the expression on his face.  He finally got it. 

I didn't then, nor do now, object to gender-specific, or race-specific, clubs in general; but I did, and do, object to using them to conduct business to the detriment of a player via exclusion.

That particular scenario didn't play out again, either with me or with any of the other women -- probably because, of course, the "good ol' girls' network" was quickly made privy to that incident.  Along with the named and managing partners, I'd bet.  Accordingly, I like to think I had something to do with the education of the partners of my old firm.

I also like to think I had something to do with the rather generous maternity policy for lady lawyers at the firm.  Since I was the prototype (the first pregnant associate), the senior partners asked me what I needed, so I told them: since I would do a little work at home (which I did, including testifying for one of the partners 1 1/2 weeks after Younger Daughter was born), I expected to be paid, and that I needed at least the standard (at that time) six weeks off, clearance from my OB to return to work, time for doctor appointments, continuation in benefits, and deeming the pregnancy in the same light as they would any other disability.  They had no counter.  See The Pregnancy Act of 1978.

They also had no ammunition to argue against continuing the paid leave when I needed an extra four weeks with Elder Daughter due to some recovery issues.  Or two weeks of bed rest before Younger Daughter was born due to a serious lung infection, complete with at least one visit to the ER before I was scheduled to give a dinner party.  But, that's another story.

So, I guess "horrible bosses" don't have to be horrible if they're schooled appropriately, even if one of the senior partners insisted on putting his arm around me when I was great with child and explaining to me how Cherokee women just stepped off the trail, gave birth, and kept right on moving along the Trail of Tears.  He was not exactly a sensitive 70s kind of guy.  (not like Buck!)  Arm-arounder's wife left him and he wound up leaving the firm, living on a boat on the Arkansas River.  Literally.  (But considerably nicer than a van down by the river!)

I guess they don't have to be totally horrible bosses.  It just takes a good teacher.  With thick skin.  ;-)

Economics and Logic

This was just too good not to share:

Home: Improvement and Invasion

As revealed here in an earlier post, we did indeed celebrate Bastille Day at Moogie's Mansion by accepting delivery of a new, fancy mattress.  We were way overdue -- both of our backs had been talking to us for quite awhile.  As Pepper observed, our old mattress held up really well for 10 years -- too bad it was 11 years old.

So, I was very excited to get the new one set up (the delivery guys left the house just as the rain began to fall), with its high-falutin' bedbug-proof, allergen-free, waterproof cover.  Bouie was neither excited nor happy because he had to be locked in the tv room while the delivery guys were here -- he was acting just a little too "interested" (read: he had entered a not hump-free zone) and "helpful" (read: he needed to see every little thing and inspect every little movement).  Being all caught up in Bouie and getting the zippered cover fitted correctly, I failed to notice how much higher the surface of the mattress was than our old one's.

The dang bed is now taller than more than half of me!

No way are my feet going to reach the floor when I try to get out of bed.  I felt kinda like a 5 year-old sitting on a chair designed for the "big and tall," swinging my legs.

There's not enough room on my side of the bed for me to be able to use one of those pet steps designed to enable older, short critters to get up onto the furniture.

So, I went upstairs and grabbed Elder Daughter's step-stool from college.

So, now, instead of feeling like that 5 year-old, I feel more like a toddler bellying up to the bathroom sink to brush her teeth.  Or a sorority girl.  On second thought, I don't think I have nearly enough energy to be a toddler.  And I certainly don't have enough energy to be a sorority girl; I barely did the first time around.  So, I suppose I'll just feel short.

*Sigh*  At least the new mattress is really comfy.  Once I manage to get up on it.  And I hardly need to bend over at all to change the linens! 

One strange thing, though, leads me to believe that the fancy cover wasn't made here in the good ol' U.S. of A. -- this advisory label that lets you know which end goes where:

There's the same label on both ends.  I'm not quite sure what to make of that.

And, speaking of lizards -- I went into the kitchen earlier today to put some thing in the sink and this is what I found!

It was a tiny little thing and it didn't seem to be very frightened of me.

It seemed to prefer red wine to coffee, however.

Pepper invited it to go back outdoors.  We really don't need any new pets around here right now.  I'm too busy adjusting to a new mattress.

First They Came for the Light Bulbs . . . .

I think it's just a matter of being treated like a child by my very own government, but this light bulb thing is beginning to tick me off.

I didn't pay much attention when the manufacturing ban on incandescent light bulbs was first enacted -- heck, who did?  But now real-live shortages are cropping up.  I'm sure I'll wind up being "nudged" into buying the new, expensive bulbs that put out crappy light, but I don't have to be happy about it!  After all, ladies of a certain age prefer softer light.  Just ask Blanche Dubois.

On Tuesday, 228 Republicans voted yes on HR 2417 to repeal the ban; ten Republicans voted no. 183 Democrats voted no, but only five Democrats voted yes, so I'm guessing it will do me absolutely no good to contact my new, uber-Democrat (non)Representative.

This might be what we're really in for in the not-too-distant future:



There's another vote in the House, probably tomorrow, on another Bill (HR 337, energy and water appropriations) to which the Burgess amendment (to repeal the manufacturing ban) was offered today; this bill will take only a simple majority to pass.  Maybe it's not too late to wrest business decisions away from Washington and put them back in the hands of consumers.

Then again, maybe it was too late a long time ago.

Run!  The Nudge is coming!!

Cancel That Request

Remember when I mentioned in yesterday's post that it wouldn't be so awful if some terrorist blew up the Golf Channel's transmitter?

Never mind.

It seems that there are several hours of the ladies playing in Colorado Springs recorded on the DVR, so real-time broadcasting isn't necessary to watch a little more golf.

*sigh*. At least the scenery is pretty. We had brunch at the Broadmoor a number of years ago while staying at Ft. Carson. I could do that again, even if there were a bunch of LPGAers out there.

Stuff, and Summer Celebrations -- a Little Late, a Little Early -- Eh, Who Cares, We're in the South

It's a miserable, beastly hot Saturday afternoon in New Orleans.  I just came in from taking Rosie out -- I swear I worked up a sweat just sitting on the steps in the shade, watching her go around and around in circles.  It even smells hot.

Nonetheless, this morning some 9,000 crazy folk, dressed in white with red sashes and neckerchiefs, participated in the 2011 Fiesta del San Fermin de Nueva Orleans -- The Running of the Bulls in New Orleans -- just a couple of days after its famous progenitor took place in Pamplona.  

Moogie was not among the 9,000 but at least 2 of SIL#1's cousins were.  One wore a red tutu instead of a red sash.  She looked adorable, at least she did in the picture she posted on Facebook. 

(Photos were stolen from the NOLA.com and a Facebook friend.)

As we tend to do down here, we added our very own twist to the festivities.  First off, alcohol is de rigueur.  Obviously.  If one is to get out in the heat very early on a Saturday in July, one should be adequately lubricated.  Note that I did not say, "hydrated."

Next, there are no bulls.  Or even cows.  Instead, the festival-goers are chased and bludgeoned with foam bats by be-horned New Orleans Roller Girls -- members of the local women's roller derby team.

The after-party will take place tonight and is entitled, "La Fiesta de Pantalones" (The Pants Party).  Don't ask me, I don't know why there's a pants party with Spanish food and Latin music, but it does kinda sound like fun.

When I mentioned to Pepper that the Running was this morning, he said that while walking Bouie earlier, he saw a bunch of  people waiting for the streetcar dressed in white and red, but he thought they must have been going to some new gay event like Southern Decadence.  Heh.  I guess you can't read a book by its cover.

Also, many of the celebrations of Bastille Day kicked off yesterday.  I think my favorite is the Waiters Race, where a whole bunch of waiters compete against one another by running with full trays of cocktails.  At Moogie's Mansion, we will be celebrating France's Independence on July 14th by accepting delivery of a new mattress.  Excitement abounds around here during the summer.

Finally, here's a re-post of the lizard getting a drink, downloaded from YouTube.  The quality is definitely better than the original.


And UPDATE!!  The Causeway is still the world's longest bridge over open water, after the Guiness folks added a new category, "Longest Bridge Over Open Water (continuous)!" The Cheating Cheater Chinese now have the "longest bridge over open water (aggregate)."  So, I guess sometimes, cheaters do prosper.  But record-holding bridges are record-holding bridges, as the article expresses!

About Cheating Cheaters -- it seems that THE Ohio State University "vacated" its wins for the 2010 season, including the Sugar Bowl, which was stolen from the Hogs by various and sundry guys wearing stripes.  But, apparently, the Suckeyes don't have to forfeit and they don't have to return the money they got from the good folks at the Sugar Bowl.  So, I guess, sometimes, cheaters really prosper.

But, even though it may be hot, life is generally good down here in southeast Louisiana.

It would be even better if some terrorist would blow up the Golf Channel's transmitter.  Just sayin'.

We're a Little Out of Control Out There . . .

Sometimes I think this world has gone completely over the edge.  Locally, first there was the discriminatory City permit required to keep an intact animal (renewable annually, but easily "overlooked"); then there was the discriminatory City Bark dog park fiasco that keeps poor Bouie on the outside looking in because he's still attached to his family jewels.  Both regulations nominally claim to protect people and other animals by keeping vicious dogs under wraps, but in effect, the regs push the overreaching policy of getting all pets spayed or neutered.  The dog park's regs push that policy by excluding intact animals from the yuppie canine haven.  Poor Bouie.

Today I read about a new policy in effect at a New Hampshire apartment complex: if you wish to keep a pet there, you must submit a sample of its DNA.  Why?  To give the complex the basis to utilize "PooPrints" -- a procedure that allows unscooped poop to be tested and matched with the perpetrator who produced said unscooped poop.  Then the complex will fine the holy bejeebers out of the perpetrator's owner, with a second offense leading to eviction.

The primary goal of the policy is obviously to encourage pet owners to clean up after their pets and therefore help prevent unpleasant encounters between human shoes and dog poop.  That's not necessarily a bad thing (I remember when Pepper asked one irresponsible dog walker whose dog always chose our yard for his comfort station what he would think about Pepper following him home and leaving a few of our baby's used diapers on his lawn).  And, PooPrints could help locate lost pets who had been swabbed.

But then one of the entrepreneurs at BioPet Vet Lab (the developer and operator of PooPrints) went a little too far in trying to sell the program -- he brought environmental impact into the mix:

"It's a huge problem with growing environmental impact," Mayer said of the waste. The PooPrints website estimates a single pet creates 276 pounds of waste per year. "We want people to be responsible and not leave things behind. Down the drain means it's going into your lakes, rivers and streams," he added.

That's a little over the top.  Where does Mr. Mayer think scooped poop goes?  Into the landfill, usually in a non-biodegradable plastic bag!

Why can't these one-issue do-gooders keep it real and not try to fabricate theories to make left-leaning tree-huggers swoon.  Sheesh.

Anyway, what do you think?  Reasonable policy, or not-so-subtle attempt at behavior modification?

A Jefferson Family Update: Movin' on Out

There has been a lot of activity going on in New Orleans' once powerful Jefferson clan.

You might recall that William Jefferson is my former congressman who was convicted of bribery after federal investigators found, among other things, $90K in cold hard cash in his freezer.  He has remained free, pending appeal, since being sentenced to 13 years in the federal pen in November 2009.  Yes, it's been that long.  Oral arguments were re-scheduled for May of this year, but they have since been postponed yet again due to his attorney's battle with lymphoma.  No date has been set while Dollar Bill cools his heels out in the fresh air.

Brother Mose Jefferson, who was also convicted in 2009 on several counts of bribery and obstruction of justice, had been serving his 10-year sentence when he succumbed to cancer in May of this year. His passing got him excused from another unrelated trial for criminal fraud, not yet set, that involved a scheme to divert monies intended for charitable endeavors, cooked up by Mose and gal-pal, former City Council member and state legislator, Renee Gill-Pratt.  Her first trial in February of this year resulted in a hung jury, and re-trial begins this coming Monday.

Testifying in that re-trial against Gill-Pratt will be sister Betty Jefferson and her daughter Wanda Coleman, who pleaded guilty in the scam and took a deal.  Betty and Wanda are scheduled to be sentenced on August 31st -- happy birthday to me!

And now, it looks like there might be even a little more action on the Betty front.  You might recall that Betty Jefferson had served as the New Orleans Fourth District Assessor for a number of years, and that misappropriation of Parish funds made up the bulk of the charges against her in the bogus charity scheme with Mose, Gill-Pratt, and daughter Wanda. 

Get ready for this -- it gets even more convoluted.

It was revealed yesterday that an audit of the last five years of Betty's tenure as Assessor revealed up to $114,000 additional checks in possibly misappropriated funds.  It might be simply a matter of sloppy record-keeping, but when you consider that several of the checks drawn on the Assessor's work fund were made payable to an Assessor's office employee whose endorsement was then forged by a Jefferson family member, who subsequently kept the money, something smells stinky in the Crescent City. 

Among those invited to respond to the audit, but all of whom declined, were the office employee, Betty, Wanda, and Wanda's daughter Tawanda Coleman.  So now we've added another generation to the family business in public corruption. 

It seems to me that the Betty clan might be looking at state charges and orange jumpsuits in the near future.

I warned you previously about Bill's daughters -- the highly educated ones -- but his great-nieces and nephews didn't blip on my radar.  I've said it before and I'll say it again: this family is nothing more than a band of amoral brigands aiming to "spread the wealth" from the public and the poor by channeling it to themselves.

I'd better get the ol' radar tuned up.

Leapin' Lizards -- Today's Lesson in Herpetology

Moogie's Mansion is overrun with lizards from early spring until frost (which, sometimes, doesn't arrive until well into winter).  Most of the common lizards we see are either brown anoles or green anoles -- the browns tend to stay closer to ground level while the greens typically prefer higher terrain, but both varieties can be found on fences, in bushes, and even up in trees. There's one stretch of sidewalk down the street that I call "Lizard Central" because any time you walk through it, dozens of lizards scurry back and forth from the groundcover near the street to the foliage near the fence.

Both of the guys pictured above are males -- they have this "distensible dewlap" that they use to attract females and  challenge other males.  It's quite impressive to see them all puffed up and macho, sending signals all around the yard -- they do two or three lizard push-ups and then poof out their dewlap like a balloon.

For several years -- especially after Katrina which pretty much wiped out the lizard and songbird population for awhile -- the brown anoles were winning the lizard territorial war from the green anoles around here and I was afraid we wouldn't see the colorful shows that they produce anymore.  The browns are apparently fairly aggressive.  But, both varieties seem to be thriving these days and I am very happy about that.  Except, they don't eat enough bugs to suit me.  And sometimes they jump out at me when I open the mailbox.  That's a little disturbing.

Several days ago, two males were doing this "anything you can do I can do better" number on parallel poles on the gate while I was sitting outside waiting for Rosie to do her thing.  They leapt and crawled the length on the poles, eyeing each other all the way, then they'd flip around and climb back up.  Quite the gymnasts.  I really wished I could've recorded that little episode.

I finally had my phone with me yesterday on my way to the car when I spied a green on the fence.  I thought he might do some acrobatics for me to record, but he did something even better -- he got a drink of water.  He got a drink of water by licking a holly leaf with his tiny pink tongue!  I'm not sure how I thought lizards get hydration before seeing this -- maybe I assumed they just absorb it from the atmosphere? -- but I never suspected I'd see a lizard lapping up water like a dog!  Look closely at this little guy's tongue -- it's amazing!  And he let me get right up next to him!


(I was so excited to watch the video in the car that I left the house keys in the gate lock and didn't realize it until I got to the grocery store.  I had to come all the way back home to get them before I did my shopping!  I don't think my vicious attack lizards would've done much to discourage a key-thieving thug.).

Today I spotted one slinking across the birdbath to get a drink!

Someday, I'll get a video of two males stalking each other and puffing up and chasing one another.  It's quite the B-movie horror film scene when dinosaurs ruled the Earth, in miniature.

What's really unusual about my fascination with lizards is that I can watch them and get close to them without being afraid.  Except when they leap out of the mailbox, and that's mostly a startle reaction rather than the full-blown panic attack I suffer when I get anywhere near a snake.  I think it's probably because lizards have elbows and shoulders.  Joints seem to make a difference.  Don't ask me to explain it -- I'm just grateful for those shoulders and elbows, or I don't think I could go outside down here except during the winter!

There are days when Moogie is so very easily entertained.

Desperately Seeking Humorous Distraction

Considering my great propensity to criticize misplaced apostrophes and grammar errors, this is just hysterical to me -- the best obnoxious responses to misspellings on Facebook.  (Not exactly family-friendly, though.)  As a blog where I found it commented (all you SEC fans will love this blog -- it's The Blog Hawgs!  I'm looking at you, Andy and Paul and Boogie), it's just like a train wreck -- you simply can't make yourself look away.

And, speaking of not exactly family-friendly, but laugh-out-loud-until-your-gut-hurts-from-laughing funny, Check out Damn You Auto Correct.

Happy Independence Day!  I'm blowing out the candles and wishing that we can remain free from our own government.

Apparently I needed a good laugh or two today.

And cake.

A Magic Show in the Sky

Is this a cool picture, or what -- lightning passing through a rainbow!  From Wednesday's Times-Picayune:

The Causeway Rules!

In 1956, the Causeway Bridge was officially opened -- a 23.83 mile-long span that traverses Lake Pontchartrain from Metairie to Mandeville.  It was expanded to 4 lanes in 1969, as pictured in the lower photo above.  It's the world's longest over-water bridge. 

But now some Chinese dudes claim to have built a longer bridge in Qingdao -- some 26 miles long. 

Those cheating cheater Chinese!  Their Jiaozhou Bridge doesn't go in a straight line and some of its span is not over open water!  Even if it a kinda prettier bridge, it's still a cheater.

Cheating cheaters.

They do plan eventually to implement a toll to cross the bridge, akin to the Causeway, which charges $3.00 to come into the City. Both Greater New Orleans toll bridges let you leave the city for free, but you gotta ante up if you want to come in. No tickee -- no Bourbon Street.  I'm not sure what the reward will be after the Cheaters pay the toll to get into Qingdao, but it can't be better than the French Quarter, the New Orleans Museum of Art, Saints football, the Garden District, St. Charles Avenue, or beignets!

Our Causeway General Manager isn't giving up the longest bridge title just yet without a fight, calling the Cheating Cheater Chinese "wannabes."  This wouldn't be the first time someone tried to emulate and surpass good ol' American ingenuity and came up short.  Nor will it be the last. 

I just dare 'em to make a better gumbo or crawfish bread, though.  C'mon, Cheating Cheaters, bring it!