You’ve got to love Westlaw Trivia. I hope I’m not violating any contracts when I give you this sample question and answer.
Q: West has a long and distinguished history of publishing texts that help students understand the law, such as the American Casebook Series, Nutshells, Black Letter Outlines and Black’s Law Dictionary®.
Possible Answers
A. True
B. False
For those of you who did not get into an ABA-accredited law school, the answer was A.
Tonight we learned where you go in the library to read about body parts and their value. We found an Illinois case where an impaired hand was worth $800,000 and a Louisiana case where an amputated foot was worth only $80,000. I found that Louisiana in general is much stingier than Illinois. Maybe people down there are used to heartache (which is not a compensable injury).
I am still learning to romance my crock pot. Tonight I had a recipe actually tell me, “Place whole chicken on top of vegetables.” This is very disconcerting. I had no idea how big a whole chicken would be. Life in the big city.
I’m getting sick, I can tell, just enough to mess with my head and ruin either the big trip to Des Moines on Thursday or the big Contracts midterm next week. Either way I am feeling like the walking dead.
Well… We lost the final round of the moot court competition. It was unpleasant — after the argument concluded, I felt pretty sure we’d won. I think we had a better-developed theory of the case, and we knew our facts better, but our opponents pulled it off.
I had the usual crazy incident; this time it was that I dumped a pitcher of water all over the table and had nothing to mop it up with except Ginsberg v. New York. That was great. It’s always something. This spill did not preclude Jarrod from winning “Best Oralist.” Congratulations, Mr. Shirk!
So now it’s back to being a regular law student, who just reads constantly and doesn’t have to talk about it so much. I understand we’ll still get a nice plaque. We learned so much and got to work really, really hard. And the support we got from our fellow students and professors was amazing. Overall, a good time I’d definitely do again.
The Honorable William Klatt
373 South High Street, 24th Floor
Columbus, Ohio 43215
February 13, 2005
Dear William Klatt:
I’m a 26-year-old first-year night law student at Capital University Law School, and I’m writing to you in your capacity as the Tenth District’s administrative judge. I had the pleasure of participating in Capital’s first-year moot court competitions this weekend at the county court complex. For reasons that will become clear, you’ll be interested to know that I sat on the left side of the appellee’s desk in courtroom 23-B.
Today, after having wrapped up what I thought was a pretty tough oral argument, I returned to my seat so that my co-counsel could conclude our portion of the argument.
As I sat down, I noticed that I was listing strangely portside, oddly close to the wonderful view you have there in 23-B. I remember thinking, The judges must have been even rougher on me than I realized if they can induce vertigo. I tried to sit up straight and found myself lurching in the other direction. The reason for my precarious imbalance soon became clear: one of the casters in my very comfortable chair had come out, putting me in grave physical (and legal) danger. As exhibit A, I placed the errant caster on our desk.
Co-counsel, valiantly trying to ignore the lurching and scraping noises behind him, continued giving his part of our argument as I righted myself and located a spare chair that had been conveniently placed near our table.
I am certain that your honors did not requisition this “ejector seat” function, but you might want to consider it for certain members of the bar. I am currently studying products liability, and have a few theories under which you might justify the utility of such furniture.
We won the case, and I believe the judges did compliment us on our “poise.”
I look forward to practicing before the Tenth District Court of Appeals very soon, but perhaps in a more steady position.
Sincerely,
Bill Cash III
So Jarrod and I had two more rounds of moot court today. I don’t know how but we have advanced to the Final Four, baby!!! Life is good so far. We go back for the semi-finals tomorrow and I don’t even want to speculate on who’ll be in the finals.
The opponents are definitely getting harder, but I like to think we are, too. We’ve dropped a lot of our prepared stuff and we sort of freestyle it now. Yeah, in front of that bench, J-Rod and I are two bad-ass government attorneys. A lot of times during these things I put my feet up on the desk when it’s not my turn to talk. The judge, he all right.
A seriously amusing eventuality occurred today on the way into the courthouse. (The second round was at our state appellate court in the county complex.) Jarrod, my mom, and I all pile out of our cars and head for the elevator. This kind of clean-cut-looking guy follows us. He is carrying a PeopleSoft bag and he has glasses, so I figure he is some kind of computer nerd just there to check on stuff over the weekend.
We all take the elevator up to 9 together. I give my mom the instructions: “Look. You can go in with us, but I don’t really want the judges to know who you are or what side you’re on. Don’t make a big scene here, OK?” She promises to be good.
On the 9th floor, we all take the skyway out of the garage and across High Street. When we get to the courthouse, the door into the courthouse is locked. There’s nothing to do except turn around and go all the way back down to the street. And we don’t want to be late! I’m a little incredulous, so I kind of punch the guy on the arm or something and say, “How come you didn’t know it would be locked?” “Well, I’m never in here on the weekend.” “Yeah, all right…” We get back in the elevator. Somebody asks him, “Oh, so why are you here?”
He says, “Well, I’m here for moot court.” Oh shit. I say, “You’re not one of our judges, are you?” “Well, I don’t know.”
Needless to say, the guy did turn out to be one of our two judges. There was nothing I could do except lean right in during my intro and say, “Good afternoon, your honors…” and try not to smirk.
Well, we won, so I guess it didn’t cause too much injury. Jarrod and I were pretty amused though. Let’s let this be a good lesson about being decorous outside the courtroom as well as in. 
You know it’s cold when even street people — sorry, I mean the indigent — ask you why you’re not wearing a coat.
Approaching school tonight, a gang of classmates said, “Look at you… No sense at all.” I’m like, “You’re standing around smoking and I’m the one with the death wish?”
When I go to the law library, I like to sit under the shelf that holds the 1987 Yearbook on Socialist Legal Systems. Somehow it is comforting.
This web log has started to get a tiny amount of attention from my fellow students at Capital University Law School. I’d like to thank, especially, Sondra Kanuckle, for always giving me something to laugh at, and Stephen Nalawadi, for always giving me something to look at. That’s right guys — you’re the greatest, don’t ever change. Special shouts out also go to Michelle Laverty, the mother I don’t have; Tom Parker, the brother I don’t need; Jason Donnell, a.k.a. Gold Toe for reasons that will be known to him; Bradley Glover, a.k.a. Rock for reasons that will be known to everyone come shirt-sleeve weather; future best friend and current pharmacist Sarah Persinger; and Joy Coleman, a.k.a. Legally Red. :) I hope I haven’t offended anyone by act or omission.
The moot court competition has been heating up. The case is on the constitutionality of a state law restricting the same of dirty video games to minors. (For the uninitiated, we optionally participate in fake trials where four law student “attorneys” make arguments to the Supreme Court.) It’s a lot of fun and real local attorneys have served as the judges (including one of my most prolific commenters, Karim Ali, who will undoubtedly provide a richly textured inside view on the event!).
Most esteemed study buddy Jarrod Shirk and I have been working a ton on it — I’d estimate fifteen or twenty hours apiece. It has been pretty rewarding, but there have been humorous moments when we’ve been thinking about the most spectactular ways to throw the contest. For example, walking in and yelling “No, you’re out of order!” or “You can’t handle the truth!” Or just a simple but deadly “May I approach the bench?” Or using the giant post-it note pad to make a lewd courtroom illustration.
Or, I could do what apparently permitted one much-loved and good-natured contender to qualify for the single-elimination round — to announce that dirty video games aren’t so bad; after all, his children have seen him copulating in real life and they’re fine. Other good gaffes have included: not showing up at all; muttering “Oh God” under the breath; wearing fake glasses to “look smart” and then having the judges ask if you really must wear those glasses; offering the judges a “resuscitation” of the facts; and declaring that European children go to nude beaches all the time, and they’re fine too. In all seriousness, I can see how people would be taken away by the passionate nature of the contest, and I just pray that I don’t make a similar embarrassing statement myself. (Jarrod would kill me.)
Of the 16 teams remaining, three of them are from my legal writing class, and we’re all in different brackets, so it is possible that all three of us will come down to the semi-finals. So Mr. Lynch, I warn you — trifle with us not! Judgment day cometh (as early as this Sunday actually). I’ll keep everyone posted and try to have my mom take some embarrassing photos of me.
In other news, one of my professors warned me that at the beginning of law school, only three people in the class had glasses, but at the end of law school, over a hundred had glasses. Good grief! What if I had to start wearing glasses?
“Although it is important that we have a set of legal rules determining when a promise respecting the use of land can be enforced, why must the rules be so complicated, and why must courts follow them so erratically? Entering the study of servitudes is a little like diving into a swamp at night, swimming and floundering in terror, and emerging quite fortuitously on some unknown shore in the morning. When it is all over you’re sorry that it happened, you don’t understand anything you saw but you know that you didn’t like it, and you are extremely grateful that you blundered out.”
God, this sounds like my last hundred relationships.