Spent too many hours this last weekend trying to implement a simpler, more direct incorporation of photos from the gallery over here. It would be easy if I kept both sites on the same domain, but since the artsy wing is over on a subdomain (because I was scared about bandwidth – talk about pretension and self-delusion!) a simple PHP include doesn’t work. Some I use iframes. But I can’t get them to resize vertically. I tried a bunch of scripts from various sites, and none of them worked worth a $#%^. So in frustration, I’m left with a fixed-size window for variably-sized pictures. Just keep this in mind if the pictures on the left look vertical but seem to be missing the bottoms. This isn’t a repeat of CBS editing out Elvis’ hips. This is just someone settling, and I’d still rather have a partial thumbnail teasing inelegantly than no pictures at all.

Enjoying my Memorial Day weekend. Lunch with the parents yesterday on Coronado, some photography and website tweaks today while I avoid the crowds. No offense, but this is when the amateurs are running to the beach, parking poorly and getting all sunburnt. I’ll stay out of their way and chill a bit.

But this is Memorial Day weekend, and it wouldn’t be complete without some memorializing. The banner above (and linked to here) is from a photo taken at the National Cemetery at Fort Rosecrans here in San Diego last January. This is the final resting place of the remains of over 86,000 souls who ably served their country.

It’s a beautiful site for such as solemn purpose, but the hills mask the enormity of the sacrifice represented by keeping it from being viewed all at once. As you go from one hill to the next you see more markers stretching to yet another hill, and then another. So, before clicking onward, please take a moment to remember and give honor to the memories of these men and women.

I’m not certain why, but I got dressed and went in to the cube this morning. The receptionist called in sick and the boss didn’t even bother to call in.

I was out the door by nine and caught Star Wars 3 at a ten a.m. matinee. Great movie. I didn’t come to tears as some of the reviewers indicated I should, but then again I’m a lawyer and have no soul. Still, great movie, best of the prequels by far.

Fortunately, for my slacker Friday, the theater of choice was across the street from my outdoor lap pool of choice, and the sun was just burning through the coastal fog at 12:30, so I walked over to the pool and knocked out a mile. Not just a good workout, but no crowds since most of the regulars there work in the neighborhood, and since no one in their right mind was working today, few were in the neighborhood.

Shopping and errands, a quick phone call to Dad‘s answering machine for his birthday (HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD!), and then home at 3:30. That’s the way to end a workweek.

Got comped dinner at a casino buffet last night (it was work).

Pros: so many amazing ways to prepare shrimp, and no one to tell me “stop.”

Cons (kinda sorta): must swim extra laps tomorrow, preferably at a time when no one will see me.

Government run health care has long been one of my worst fears, and one of the reasons that I’m occasionally tempted to vote Republican (though never for Bush, fear not). The thought of ever again having some government bureaucrat standing anywhere near me and my doctor or in any way involved in my medical treatment is just too horrible to imagine.

So today this hits the press: Feds vow to close Viagra loophole: Outrage over Medicaid benefit for sex offenders. There’s really no good way to spin it. No one except possibly the ACLU is ever going to stand there with a straight face and say that convicted sex offenders have a right to the little blue pill. But that’s not the point.

None of the articles on this so-called “outrage” mentions any bans on medical treatment as part of the various felons’ sentencing. Some government officials have simply decided that regardless of the reason someone’s doctor prescribed him this drug, the drug is inappropriate because of the person’s criminal history. Medical appropriateness be damned – this is about spin.

I suppose this could be seen as a way to reduce Medicaid costs without harming the good folk who vote Republican, but it looks more like petty officials being judgmental and vindictive. Wannabe doctors using their moral superiority to defeat the judgment of real doctors. And this is not a good thing. I picked my doctors and I trust their advice, and that’s all that matters.

But since I see no hope of advancing any of my political beliefs for the foreseeable future, I want to be the first to push for a ban on arthritis and carpal tunnel treatment for anyone convicted of a spam-related offense. I’m also thinking that a ban on any form of treatment for ear and throat difficulties for anyone working in the telemarketing industry might serve the public good. Any more suggestions? Being vindictive and judgmental may only be in until 2008, so we should probably jump on the bandwagon quickly if we want to effect a bit of social justice through medicine.

It was supposed to be a quick, simple weekend getaway. Chuck and Pongo take Nissantruck out to Palm Springs Saturday. We play for a night, then come home Sunday. A little less stressed, a little better tanned, maybe a little tired and maybe with some color photos to show off. No major effort – just a successful weekend. Heading north I made a last minute route change, and in a fateful decision, took the highway all the way in instead of cutting across the mountains.

Just outside of Palm Springs we pull off the road to stretch our legs and mark the local flora. Scorching hot, but that’s why the ice chest is full and we didn’t pack many clothes. Heat doesn’t scare us.

So we head on in to town. There on Palm Canyon during a break between songs on the playlist I’m hearing a wierd thumping. Didn’t pay too much attention to it. Figured it was just one of the other cars waiting at the light – either too much bass or someone else’s problem. The next song in the playlist comes up and everything’s back to normal. Why fix a problem when you can mask a symptom? Ignorance is bliss. Within 100 feet the thumping becomes much louder, still no problem, and then it stops.

Houston, we have a problem

Nissantruck jettisons her fan belts.

Cap’n – the helm’s not responding, and we’ve lost life support. Also the little red lights for brakes and battery are on.

Driving down the middle of Palm Springs on a Saturday afternoon, no power steering or brakes, no alternator and no A/C. Right in front of a bank sign reminding us that the temperature was 113 degrees in the shade, and yes, A/C does equal life support. Being a tolerable driver but horrible mechanic, I focus on the symptoms I’m aware of and ignore other possible consequences that might not rate their own warning lights. Pongo senses my stress and decides to freak out, never one to be wild about traffic anyways.

We get to the motel with the lack of power steering substituting for my workout this weekend, and I get Pongo checked in. With him settled in with some A/C and puppy porn Animal Planet, I go to a local garage one block away recommended by the motel manager. Of course, it’s Saturday afternoon and their mechanic is gone for the weekend.

I get directions to a Pep Boys across town. After a couple of phone calls I realize they’re pretty much my only chance on a weekend in this town, so I drive. I’m getting used to the lack of power steering, and melting in the blast furnace heat. As I get close to the destination I stop at a light and get a whiff of the air. Hmm, someone’s losing antifreeze. I guess Nissantruck’s not the only car with problems. Nope, Nissantruck was the only car with problems. Note to self: gotta remember to think about the non-squeaky wheels too. Radiator’s definitely boiling by the time I get to Manny and the boy’s place. Fortunately, they were aces. Rolling into any garage at 3:30 on a Saturday afternoon I figured I’m staying in Palm Springs until at least Monday. I even sounded out the motel people on options to extend after I cab back over there to wait for word on our fate.

But no, Nissantruck’s done and ready to go by 6:00 p.m. Nice new belts, and the radiator’s all checked out with no repairs needed. Yay Pep Boys.

Weekend of fun was allowed to continue. I even made it over to the Agua Caliente tribe’s house of karmic balance and chance, where the tribe found me worthy and contributed $87 toward Nissantruck’s repairs. Of course, I got greedy and was forced to give back $19 of that this morning, but still, it was the thought that counted and the redistribution of wealth was appreciated.

No decent pictures ended up being taken, but the tan lines received some needed attention. And even with all this, I do feel relaxed now, though I took the highways home too. Not yet sure when I’ll turn Nissantruck loose on rural roads again.

As inconvenient and terrifying as this was, at least it happened where and when it did. The breakdown easily could have happened on the switchback mountain roads I normally drive to Palm Springs.

That or in the middle of the desert on next month’s tentative trip to Las Vegas. I really do feel very lucky, even if the tribe only partially agreed.

I knew more than a few people affiliated with the Monterey College of Law when I practiced up there a few years back, including some great attorneys, but when I saw this article in the morning news I gagged. They’re expanding!? I quickly noticed that not one word in the article mentioned any improvement in the quality of instruction or even the substance of their program at all. While “large classrooms, technological upgrades and bigger parking lots” are all important, in the end they have little to do with actually training competent lawyers.

Just to make certain I hadn’t missed the fact that their academic program’s shortcomings had already been corrected, I went to the bar’s website to look at the school’s pass rate. At the July 2004 test, 26 Monterey College of Law alumni endured the three days. Four passed: two first-timers and two who’d previously failed. For both first timers and repeaters, their pass rate was less than 20%.

I certainly understand that all JDs don’t plan to practice, and many don’t even intend to take a bar exam, but how can a law school produce graduates who a) want to pass the bar , but b) can’t (at least 80% can’t) and then c) invest in new buildings so they can expand their program from 100 to 300 students?

Making a rare exception to my general avoidance of memes because I’ve been tagged twice on this one, although I don’t think it’s fair that married bloggers can join forces and beat up on me from two separate domains.

The Music Baton, having been duly passed by Joe and Leah:

Total size of music files on my computer:

8.42 gigabytes with a total of 2176 songs.

The last CD I bought was:

I don’t recall. I haven’t bought a physical CD since I installed iTunes about 1 1/2 years ago. According to iTunes, the last album I bought was Rob Thomas’ Something to Be on 5/7.

Song playing right now:

Sorry none. Malcolm in the Middle is playing on the TV.

Five songs I listen to a lot, or that mean a lot to me:

Kinda scary doing this while iTunes is telling me exactly what I really listen to in precise detail, but since you’ve opened the door to an edited list, in no particular order, from iTunes top 25.

1. I Can See Clearly Now by Jimmy Cliff.
2. You Dance by Eastmountainsouth.
3. She Gotta Smile by Stephen Lynch.
4. When I Was Superman by The Uninvited.
5. The Pascagoula Run by Jimmy Buffett.

People to whom I’m passing the baton:

None. The chain letter ends with me.

I think I’m coming down with a touch of lethargy or maybe the 24-hour apathetic flu. I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it to work in the morning.

Does anyone want to help me on the road to recovery? Just like with that age-old dilemma of starving or drowning a cold (or fever?), I can never remember whether the apathetic flu is best dealt with in a wetsuit or a speedo. I’m sure water is involved though.

How to put labels on something like sex? Lawyers are just too stodgy to stick with the traditional adjectives, so they have to try and apply the legal labels to concepts that are best left to video. Of course this wouldn’t be a problem if someone hadn’t gotten hurt (Be careful with that thing) and run to court to attempt to rectify the situation.

[John Doe] filed suit against the woman in 1997, claiming she was negligent when she suddenly changed positions, landed awkwardly on him and fractured his penis.
. . .
Although the woman may have exposed her boyfriend to ”some risk of harm,” the three-judge panel said her conduct during the sexual encounter wasn’t ”wanton or reckless” and can’t support a lawsuit.

Gotta love the Massachusetts litigants and courts for turning private bedroom antics into published case law (presumably, but no cite yet) so that law students can giggle for all time.