60 Days...

Time does fly when you're having fun. That's the saying anyway, but what I think it means is that when life is grabbing you by the shorthairs and pulling you along, a person tends not to notice just how long it's been since they last blogged.

Sixty days have gone by since I last posted on Michigan's loss to.. uh.. who cares. The Badgers managed to rout 'em on Sunday and that's far more relevant. While not missing Madison in the least, I am sorry to have missed the after-party. Coming off of several losses and mathmatically eliminating me from the office pool, Wisconsin looks to be ending their season with at least some respect for a job halfway well-done.

Work is busy and I'm daily reminded just how little about the practice of law I learned in law school. But wow! I'm moving along from research to motion practice to figuring out how to schedule depositions with opposing counsel and review medical records (yes, doctors do have the worst handwriting). Learning it, living it, loving it... "it" being the practice of law baby!

Speaking of baby, or babies. The little ones are getting bigger each day and becoming more and more a part of daily life. I didn't think that I'd take six months to figure out how do deal with the fact that I'm a new father... I thought it would take years and involve considerable bulk purchases of Johnny Walker (Black)... not so.

(Well, liberal applications of JW don't hurt)

But all in all, time heals all wounds even if self-inflicted.

A Man with A Plan

I went looking for some good news and found this gem just waiting to make me LAUGH.

The headline says it all:

"MAN BUILDS GUILLOTINE TO KILL HIMSELF"

Aside from the obvious, the story has two additional facts that sent me rolling on the floor. First, the name of the police chief quoted is "Dale Covert". Poor guy, to be stuck on a local police force with a name like that. You just know he's repeatedly applied with the feds; alas, the CIA has no sense of humor.

Second, the deceased airhead (get it), may or may not have been an engineering grad, but he was from Michigan!


An 0-2 record can really get a person down.

Legal Disclaimer: If, after reading this post, you A) are from Michigan, and B) build a guillotine and use it on yourself, I bear no responsibility for having provided you with the idea.

I will, however, laugh.

Shouldn't We Be Smarter Than This?

Ladies and Gentlemen,
Please join me in getting depressed reading about the new Kaiser Foundation survey on health care costs.

Since 2001, the annual employee payment for health insurance has increased by 78 percent, compared with a wage increase of 19 percent and an inflation rate of 17 percent. In my case, if I take 'advantage' of the health insurance offered through my employer my 25 percent of the total premium will cost me roughly $3800 a year. On top of that there are $20 copays every time someone in my family visits a doctor and at least $10 every time a prescription is filled but only if the drug is on the lowest of three pricing tiers.

If all that isn't bad enough the obvious conclusion is that health insurance is quickly becoming too expensive for small and medium businesses. This means fewer employers are able to pick up the tab today than they were six years ago. (In case you didn't know, most employers pay 75% of the total cost, or in my employer's case roughly $10,000 a year per employee. We have over 150 employees, you do the math).

When do we finally get to the point where we decide that enough is enough and start forcing our elected representatives to take notice and change the laws that govern how health care is funded?

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that as costs continue to increase, and more and more workers lose insurance coverage because their employers no longer can afford to offer it, that the bulk of those paying for insurance today will be the uninsured tomorrow.

Who picks up the cost for the growing uninsured? Federal and state governments in large part, as well as you, me and everyone else who presently has insurance. We pay higher premiums and get squeezed more and more, even as health care continues to be delivered to those without insurance; their numbers are clearly growing.

What's the answer? It's pretty simple. The answer is to get us out of having to "pay for health care" through an insurance premium and create a new requirement that we pay for medical care via dedicated taxes. It's not so radical because to a very large extent, we're already doing that (i.e Medicare, Medicaid, SHIPS, etc.), but today the true costs are hidden from us.

In sum, let us all join the uninsured and get away from an ever-increasing cost structure based upon insurance, one that sooner or later is going to collapse from its own excess. After all, the only parties benefiting from the current system are health insurers and their investors even while the true costs are not paid for by everyone in the system.

Baby Bisphenol A Malfeasance

Here’s a question I never thought to be asking myself:

What brand of bottle do I buy if I’m looking to feed my newly arrived child or children (in the case of twins)?

You could ask friends or family members for their recommendations or simply purchase your bottles on the basis of how much shelf space they have at the local BabiesRUs. If you do what we did, you’ll do both. Thus, based on the recommendation of a close friend and the size of the display, we chose Dr. Brown’s a brand of bottle manufactured by Handi-Craft, Inc.

We brought the bottles home in May and have been using them to feed the girls ever since. At no point did it occur to us to ask whether these bottles, with their six feet of shelf space and a sales price higher than many other brands, might also contain harmful chemicals.

Now don't we feel stupid (if not a bit sick to our stomachs).

While doing some Internet research, we’ve discovered that the bottles contain a chemical proven to leach out with repeated uses and which has been linked via a number of studies to reproductive problems, impaired immune system functions, cancer, etc.

The chemical is Bisphenol A and it’s found in a large number of plastic bottles. Manufacturers, however, are not required to list the ingredients contained in their product and there are no identifying markings on the bottles themselves.

There are bottles made from plastics that don’t contain Bisphenol A, including the containers holding milk and other food products in your local grocery store. Why? Because although no standard exists for containers specifically designed to hold food for infants, there are federal and state rules in place mandating what kind of plastic containers can hold pre-packaged food.

It appears that baby bottles don’t get the same regulatory protection.

I wish I was making this up.

Your Mom is so Hot!

Lawyers are human too. They have needs. Still, those ethics rules are there for a reason.

Learn it, love it, live it!

From the ABA Journal and delivered my way via Legal Blog Watch:

Legal Ethics
Sex With Client’s Mom Requires Waiver

It may be OK for a lawyer to have sex with a client's mother—if the client approves the relationship in a written waiver of the conflict. But you can't ethically have sex with the client, unless the relationship got started prior to the representation.

That is the gist of a Wisconsin Supreme Court opinion that imposed a six-month suspension on attorney Carlos Gamino, for violating each of these rules—with two different clients. Although the Waukesha lawyer denied both relationships, the court upheld a referee's findings that Gamino had slept with one client, as well as another client's mother. It also sanctioned him for a lack of candor with the tribunal.

Gamino, who has now served his six-month suspension and is making payments on restitution of between $20,000 and $25,000 for court costs, was reinstated to the Wisconsin bar today.

Here's the Wisconsin Supreme Court opinion.

I'd like to be a fly on the wall to listen in on this waiver explanation!

Nessun dorma ... One Now Sleeps

Driving into work this morning I heard the news that opera singer Luciano Pavarotti died last night at his home in Italy of complications from pancreatic cancer.

I'm not sad because I believe that the ending of a well-lived life is cause for celebration, not mourning (and by all accounts Pavarotti lived well). I am, however, reflective this morning because someone who did something truly amazing is no longer with us. Opera-wise, the 20th Century was ushered in by Enrico Caruso and completed by Pavarotti.

I saw and heard him sing in 2002 during a concert in Washington DC. In a way it was a rare privilege because out of the more than six billion people on this planet, only a fraction ever gets the chance to be personally inspired the way Pavarotti and his voice were so exceptionally capable of doing. In my experience, the inspiration of seeing him sing came freely; i.e. without strings attached and I've noticed that inspiration these days more often than not carries a price.

While I can revisit his music regularly, I also can’t help but consider that the world is now a tiny bit less beautiful as a result of his death.

His singing was simply goddamned glorious.

"E noi dovrem, ahimè, morir."

Logic Solves Everything

Does it matter if he cries?


No, not if he doesn't understand why he's crying.

Using the same logic...

Does it matter if he orders an invasion of Iraq?


No, not if he doesn't understand why he's invading Iraq.

Ah, I get it now. Logical.

First Week of September

My internal clock tells me that it’s time to head back to school and begin the learning process once again.

It’s amazing how going back to school fulltime can shift a person’s perspective from being on a year-round work schedule (vacation optional) back into a mindset of summer’s over, time to once again crack the books and make grandiose plans of making the dean’s list THIS semester.

An impolite way of describing the above might be to suggest that this fall I’m neither scheduled, nor permitted to regress.

But fall is quickly approaching. I can feel it.


After twelve weeks of heat, the trees seem to be holding their breath with an expectation of impending mild days and cool nights, both of which are so necessary for them to drop their leaves and slumber quietly.

The chiminea is clean and ready to glow with a freshly laid fire of pinion, and with football season’s arrival there’s certain to be a pre-game party or two at the house. Speaking of athletics, organized running events begin again during the fall and the Duke City Marathon is scheduled for October 23. While I'm not sufficiently in shape to take on all 26.2 miles, I plan on running in the half-marathon again this year.

The long and the short of it is that like the spring, autumn conveys a sense of fresh beginnings to me and I’m looking forward them all.

Normal is as Normal Does

Question:
What’s the definition of normal?

Answer:
Spending three hours on Saturday afternoon watching the Badgers beat Washington State, 42-21; all the while drinking a beer with my main squeeze sitting next to me on the couch.

Oh yeah… all of the above even while each of us has a four-month old baby girl on our lap. Babies who, I might add are simply facinated by watching football on TV.

What’s "normal" is often in the eye of the beholder but after four months of baby care it sure feels damn good.

Craig's List - ing...

And he looks about ready to tip over.

Notice I didn’t say bend over.
I’m not going to lower the level of the discussion here to point out the obvious.

Senator Larry Craig pled guilty to a federal misdemeanor that besides undermining his credibility on just about every political issue he purports to support, leaves him looking idiotic and puts him in the position of being the only sitting Senator to have been tried and convicted of violating federal law.

The last point alone should be enough for anyone to resign.

But no, not Larry. Instead he held a press conference, wife in tow wearing a pair of dark sunglasses and a less than supportive expression on her face. Before a crowd of reporters in downtown Boise, Larry took the opportunity to uh, defend himself.

In what reminds me of a spin-off of “we’re queer and we’re here,” Larry tells us that he’s not gay and he’s not going away.

Oh really? Could Larry be getting media tips from Mark Foley? Or maybe Dan Burton? I'll cut to the chase and join his GOP colleagues in suggesting he resign now and save us the need to make more fun of him during the workday.

Whether Larry Craig is gay or not is beside the point. Even if he were straight and in a co-ed bathroom and soliciting sex via subtle, coded foot tapping, I still don’t think such conduct is appropriate for a UNITED… STATES… SENATOR.

You know what I mean? I’m talking one half of the legislative branch of our national government, one of only 100 members of what has been called the most exclusive club on the planet, a person with power deriving from Article I , Section 3 of the United States Constitution.

Larry’s guilty plea puts him in the position of being a sitting Senator who is now convicted of violating federal law. The fact that he’s a perverted idiot who pled guilty without counsel is simply, uh window dressing.

No doubt tastefully decorated.

Say Goodnight Alberto

Overheard Sunday afternoon at lunch in Crawford, Texas:

"So, Al, uh... look on the bright side. You had a good run and did some great things."

"Uh huh, I can't recall."

"Don't say that dude, you really improved our numbers when it comes to drug interdiction and illegal immigration. And your arguments in favor of torture were killer."

"Uh, sure. I guess so."

"Hey, don't worry amigo, we'll always be buds. You and me, Hoss and Paco. It'll be like old times."

"But you'll still be in Washington and I'll... I'll... I don't know where I'll be."

"Oh come on Al... Where's that big Texas smile? I'll take care of you buddy."

"You will? Cool. Didn't you always say that you thought I'd make a great U.S. Supreme Court Justice? That would be nice steady work. What do you think?

"I did? Uh, I can't recall."

Shake Your Presidential Money-maker

With the President in town for a Domenici fundraiser (talk about timing), sources tell me that the Albuquerque Journal ran a story today noting that flight costs for Air Force One are $56,000 per hour and the total cost for a trip from DC to ABQ is approximately $224,000 each way, or $448,000 (not counting special expenses incurred locally by the Secret Service).

I recall that the President was here last summer campaigning for incumbent Representative Heather Wilson and attended a fundraiser that netted $375,000 for her campaign but cost the federal government at least $445,000. (Candidates do reimburse the feds up to the cost of a round trip business class ticket whenever the President visits on their behalf).

The point my source noted and you, clever reader, should already have seen, is that given the taxpayer incurred cost for Air Force One, it might make more sense to just have the federal government cut a check for $375,000 to Wilson's campaign and save the cost of sending the President.

Ah, but if we do that Mr. and Mrs. Campaign Donor will have no opportunity to strut their stuff or get in line for a choice political appointment.

Sigh.

Up, Up in the Air - cont.

The view after passing South Sandia Peak and looking behind me to the north.



Sunset on Saturday looking west out over the Rio Grande Valley.



I stopped for the night on an outcrop that seemed custom made for my campsite. This is Sunday morning.



Unseen from below, South Sandia Crest is surrounded by a mixture of open meadows and aspen groves.



While stopped for lunch on Sunday, I made a cold-blooded friend.



Nothing to do now but clean the equipment and plan for the next trip.

Up, Up in the Air - Day One

Both feet on the ground and some pics from the recent trip along the Sandia Crest Trail. It rained Friday night so I didn't get any pictures of the approach up from Tunnel Springs.

The view from my first night's camp.



I loaded up and hit the trail about 7:30.



The Needle as seen from the trail at about 9400 feet.



Lunch at a scenic overlook.



I survived a bout of wicked blisters on both heels and what seemed like a never-ending uphill climb (6150 to 10601 feet) but I made it to the end trail head in time for my shuttle ride on Sunday, back to where I parked my truck. (Thank you to the shuttle pilot for showing up with a mega-gulp each of ice water and Coke).

A Walk in the Woods

Heading up into the woods this evening...

It's been several years since I put a pack on my back and walked for any great distance. I grew up backpacking all over northern California. I also spent the first few years on the east coast sleeping in a tent on various parts of the Appalachian Trail in Virginia, West Virginia and Pennsylvania.

I like to think of myself as someone who doesn’t so much as hug trees as waves at them from a distance. Like old friends.

Over the past several years, however, I’ve been more enamored with the likes of the Westin and its room service, than I have of spending a night out under the stars, in a tent, on a Therma-Rest.

Still, the Sandias have a way of getting under one’s skin. After living in their shadow for more than a year, the Sandia Crest Trail has been on my mind. I want to see if I’m up to the challenge.

According to my trusty hiking guide, I’m looking at twenty-six miles of difficult trail with an elevation gain of more than four thousand feet. (check out the elevation gain)


I’ll hike north to south, beginning in Placitas at the Tunnel Springs trailhead and finishing in Tijeras at the Canyon Estates parking lot.

Weather looks mostly clear with a small chance of rain in the evenings.

I'll post some pictures with a bit of commentary after I get back.

The Ladies' Eating Schedule

"What about breakfast?

You've already had it.

We've had one, yes. What about second breakfast?

I don't think he knows about second breakfast, Pip.

What about elevenses? Luncheon? Afternoon tea? Dinner? Supper?
He knows about them, doesn't he?

I wouldn't count on it."

Translation: Eleanor and Vivian apparently have yet to learn what eating three times a day can do for the sleep and shower schedules of their uh, caretakers.

Road Warrior - Mad Jim Oberstar

"I'm just here for the gasoline."

Transportation Committee Chairman Jim Oberstar (D-MN) advocates raising the gasoline tax by five cents to create a new trust fund dedicated for repairing the nation’s infrastructure. His call for the tax seems to imply that doing so might avert a future interstate bridge collapse like the one last week in his home state.

Beneath the Congressman’s stab at media face time, it’s important to understand how Congressional funding works before taking Oberstar’s suggestion too seriously.

Oberstar’s committee authorizes transportation spending projects. It doesn’t actually fund them, known in DC-speak as appropriation. The reason for what seems like a contradiction is because when actual funding takes place, it is the Committee on Appropriations that makes each and every decision. This committee is all-powerful (so much so that members may only serve on this one panel). Further, its members are not bound by the Transportation Committee's recommendations or priorities.

Why should you care? Because although Mr. Oberstar may advocate increasing the gasoline tax, he doesn’t serve on a committee with power to collect or spend revenue. (He doesn’t even serve on the committee that can increase the tax – that’s the Ways and Means Committee). Oberstar is doing what every authorizer in Congress does, making broad policy statements without having to take responsibility for actually implementing the policy.

Sort of an institutional version of “never having to put your money where your mouth is.”

One twist to this story: There is actually a disincentive for Congress to spend revenue generated by the gasoline tax. The so-called “trust funds” (another of which Oberstar is advocating should be created for his increase) are just accounting gimmicks used to offset other types of federal spending.

In other words, money comes in and is spent on a regular basis. The trust fund revenues don’t represent money saved or held-back by the government, only a positive balance in the records. When you hear that such and such trust fund has X billion in it don’t be fooled. It’s not like the money is sitting in Ft. Knox waiting to spent. It’s just an I.O.U. from Congress to itself with no power of enforcement.

End result, increase the gas tax and there is no guarantee that the money collected will even be spent, let alone spent on public infrastructure.

Mr. Oberstar should be less disingenuous and more focused on creating policy for which he will be actually responsible.

It's Brisk Baby! Brisk!

I was having lunch yesterday with my supervising attorney who told me an interesting story about a local attorney with quite a colorful attitude about the law. What caught my attention, however, was the mention of a photo that the attorney enlarged and hung on his office wall:


It seems that Frank Sinatra was arrested by the Bergen County, New Jersey sheriff in 1938 and charged with carrying on with a married woman. The charge was later changed to adultery and eventually dismissed. (Photo courtesy of The SmokingGun.com)

I'm not certain what message the photo conveys to prospective clients (or fellow attorneys) but I like the attitude it takes to hang it behind one's desk chair.

I also can't help but note the smirk on Sinatra's face in the left picture. I mean, why not? As I often tell myself, there are worse things to be busted for than being irresistible. Uh, right.

(Oh, and a serenade to the first person who can tell me where I got my title for this post)

House Beautiful

A new site on my radar is Snopes.com a rumor and urban legends collection helping shed some light on the many bogus and not-so bogus stories out there. A fellow lawyer sent me some domestic scoop on Al Gore and President George Bush regarding how much energy their respective homes consume on an annual basis.

I found it interesting, especially given Gore’s oft-touted pro-environmental stance and Bush’s less than environmentally-friendly administration (and no, calling for a meeting on Global Warming after denying its existence for the past six years does not make you pro-environment).

Gore’s house is a Hummer III …



… compared to Bush’s Toyota Prius.



Of course, Mr. Gore is a proponent of carbon trading, through which high energy consumers can offset particularly excessive uses by doing other things which decrease energy use. A simple analogy is to constantly leave lights on throughout your house while also installing compact florescent bulbs throughout; i.e. you get credit for the latter which theoretically, offsets your use.

Theoretically, mind you.

I’m sure Mr. Gore’s domestic servants sort his cans and bottles before putting them out on the curb so he’s probably covered re: his electricity costs.

Mr. Bush on the other hand, being a good Republican with a strong uh, conviction that social policy must be driven by a belief in God, Country and the Internal Revenue Code (in that order), no doubt received a significant tax credit for building such a green house.

Truly, a man’s home is his castle.

Messages Made Me Do It; That'll Be To Go!

Everything tastes better when it’s wrapped in pretty paper direct from the benign happy place inhabited by Ronald McDonald. That’s the message anyway from a new study published by the Stanford University School of Medicine and Lucile Packard Children's Hospital.
Children ranging from three to five years old were shown foods wrapped in "MickeyD" wrappers and asked to compare the food’s taste with identical food wrapped in generic wrapper having similar colors. Overwhelmingly, the children described the McDonald’s-wrapped food as tasting better.

Taste is perception right? When children are bombarded with commercial images since practically the day they are born (or on the day they are born if Mom’s hospital room has a television), their perception regarding what is of quality or importance is markedly influenced.

I suspect it should come as no surprise to anyone that the costly-carefully-crafted, specifically designed-to-appeal-to-children messages are received loud and clear by their intended audience. Given the variety of advertising that is both child and adult-focused, I wonder what other messages are received. Immigrants are poor and threatening, beer makes everything better and the world's multinational corporations really do have your best interests in mind.

"Its the supermarket to the world and brings good things to life."

What I don’t wonder is whether corporate America has any hesitation to exploit our children on behalf of the bottom line.

"Parents don't choose for their children to be exposed to this type of marketing," noted Thomas Robinson, MD, director of the Center for Healthy Weight at Packard Children's and associate professor of pediatrics and of medicine at the School of Medicine. "Parents have a very difficult job. It may seem easier to give in to their child's plea to go to McDonald's than to give in to the many other hundreds of requests they get during a day."

Um hmmm… hundreds of requests... "Mommy, can I put my fingers in the garbage disposal?"... "Daddy, will you please give me a shot of Jack?"... "I hate you! You never let me play on the interstate like all the other kids!"

Yes, those hundreds of requests sure can wear a parent down. Better to make the kid fat and give-in than to have to make a good choice for one’s children. Ah well, McDonalds need not worry about my qualms.

Judging by the number of Happy Meals sold last year I’m clearly in the minority to suggest that the right choice is to not take your children to McDonalds or any other fast-food establishment.

This just in: The number of Happy Meals sold worldwide with apple slices rather than fries is not available. Apparently, because the company won’t disclose the information.