You Steal My Sunshine.

A couple of weeks ago, I posted a couple of pictures of the flowerbeds replete with pretty flowers planted in front of the Sheriff's office by a jail trusty. It was nice, I opined, to be able to look at those pretty flowers as I walked to work. It was inspiring, I opined, to see the care that trusty took with those flowers, even though he didn't have to work so hard.
Well, the Sheriff's office has moved (see the sign?). I wonder if they'll let Robert, the trusty, continue to maintain the flowers when the Sheriff's office is gone?

Guess not. Damn. They stole my sunshine.

Faith, Fayth, and Fireflies

I saw two articles in the Charleston paper today that seemed at odds with each other. Even more oddly, they seemed kinda like- don't laugh- the videogame I've been playing of late. I won't bore you with the details (ask QJ about the details in Final Fantasy X storyline, if you want), suffice it to say, the heroine, rejected by her religious institution, continues on a journey she knows to be terminal to save the faithful. The Church, essentially, may be corrupt, but the people who believe in it are still worth saving. Against that background, I saw an article about a man who is suing the diocese of a Charleston church who diagnosed one of its members as being possessed by a demon, but refused to perform the "exorcism" unless the dude permitted the Rite to be videoed, and unless he signed away any ownership in the video. I love lawyer's rationale in trying to invalidate the consent form to give up ownership of the video: if the dude's possessed, he probably isn't competent to waive consent. Essentially, it was the devil who signed the consent form. Are there demons to expel? If there aren't, the the whole thing is a scam. If there are, than it is shameful that the Church would parcel out salvation like rationed gas.

But just when I was ready to join Voltaire in demanding that we "crush the accursed thing" (the Church), along comes a story in the same paper about a forensic psychologist, of whom I have long known. "Bart_Saylor" has testified a bunch of times in various courts in SC. I haven't had any cases in which he testified, but I've reviewed some of his reports for cases that ultimately settled. He's about as well-adjusted a person as you'll find (well, for a psychologist, anyway), and the dude says he SAW prayers when he was on the operating table. Saw them in the form of fireflies above him, protecting him. Surely this is either traumatic manifestation of the pain he was feeling, or an effect of his surgically necessitated drugs. But this is someone who is already familiar with the medical and psychological factors that go into such a diagnosis. He knows about the side-effects of drugs, of hallucinations and paranoid schizophrenia. He must know that his peers would probably ask him to, you know, just stop by so that they could, you know, just sorta talk about the stress in his life. But this is not some crackpot, and he doesn't act like someone who is cracking up. Maybe, just maybe, prayers are real. Maybe they mean something. So, maybe, we all need to continue our pilgrimages. Even with theives in the temple.

I'm a Hazard to Myself.

I've got a confession to make. I'm not proud of it, but it's true: I like Pink. No, not the color, the pop-star. Well, let me be more specific: I like some songs by the pop-artist who uses that moniker. Most particularly, I like "Don't Let Me Get Me". Like I said, I'm not proud of this. A guy can get his guyness revoked for such public admissions, but what are you gonna do? Anyway, I thought of that song when I got the receipt at left back from the ATM yesterday. Today's payday (just one more 60% check. God/the IRS/SCDOR willing, I'll get a complete paycheck in two weeks), and last night I figured I still had a few ducats in the till, and quick-cashed twenty bucks. The machine just won't give me the money if it's not in there, right? This particular ATM is possibly the last place on the planet where my credit is good. I had, apparently, 98 cents in my account, and the machine gave me a twenty, leaving me with a balance of negative $19.02. 'Course, the vig is hell. A draw on my overdraft costs me twenty-five clams. Like I said, I get paid today, so the "loan" is for about 12 hours. A twenty-five dollar charge. For an ATM draft of twenty dollars. For twelve hours. I might shoulda did an inquiry first, no?

Smackdown Smackdown: The Poll

The nominations are in: Three movies: Fight Club; Rocky; Billy Jack. Two songs/videos: A Boy Named Sue; The Authority Song. You've got a week to vote, and you can vote for any or all of 'em. You can vote more than once, if you've got access to more than one computer. Vote early and often; otherwise, don't complain if your favorite doesn't smackdown the others.

Smackdown Smackdown 4: Music

All right, we've got the first three slots filled. My brother, amazing ultra-runner AndyMan, nominated Billy Jack. He was actually kinda responsible for the other two, as well: "Rocky" popped into my head when I was thinking of broheim getting ready for the Western States 100-miler in Auburn, CA, and it was the A-Man who preached the Gospel according to Tyler Durden to me (Tyler Durden being a (doubly) fictional character in Fight Club). Sadly, I was catching up with Chase this a.m. on his blog Chase'sDirtyThoughts , and it's looking like Andy, Chase, and the other runners trying to conquer the Grand Slam of ultra-running, are going to have to find a replacement for the first race, as wildfires in CA may have forced the cancellation of Western States this year. Well, Ange, at least you had a hand in three of the four Smackdown nominees.

I can't decide the final slot. Chase and Star offered support (and kickboxing retribution); John, Col, and Kate served up some song support. John's punch-list included for some work by, or about, Johnny Cash. John, here's a good "get tough" song Johnny Cash sang to the tough kids at San Quentin Prison:


Col's bringing some NY Street tough to the party with the Wu Tang Clan.



Kate cited some language from Cherry Bomb- one of my favorite John Mellancamp songs- but you know, there's another Mellancamp song that's really about the Fight.



So, we got three movies and we'll have one song. I'll add the poll tomorrow.

Smackdown Smackdown 3: Billy Jack

Hippies were a peace-loving lot, right? Well, sure. Unless you pushed them just a little too far. So, how do you square this crowd's take on the All-American love of violence? Adding a soundtrack with anti-war anthems like One Tin Soldier doesn't hurt.

Smackdown Smackdown 2: Rocky

Okay, the franchise became, er, a bit much (though Rocky Balboa is pretty good), and Sly has become a chemically enhance Hulk. Rocky was, and is, a great Smackdown movie. I picked the "Gonna Fly, Now" clip instead of a beatdown clip for my brother, the Amazing Ultra-runner, AndyMan, who'll be tackling the Great Western States Hundred Mile Ultra in CA this weekend. His blog, for those who haven't visited much is InTheSlam And I know he's going to Smackdown those mountains and trails.

Smackdown Smackdown 1: Fight Club

How much can you know about yourself if you never been in a fight?

Man-up Smackdown (or Smackdown Smackdown).

Twin Taylor got into a Donnybrook the other day. That's a complicated thing for a Dad/Mom to face. Dad side wants to know: Did you whip him? (uh, no. The other kid's two years older and 30 pounds heavier) Mom side wants to hold him and comfort him (and to destroy the creature that hurt my baby). Anyway, I've been a bit preoccupied of late. AndyMan prodded me with a request for a smackdown. Well, how about a smackdown smackdown? I'll get the party started with a manly song, Dion's The Wanderer, but songs or movie clips with brawls or manly topics would all qualify. So how 'bout some nominations?

Boo!

My camera wasn't working. I dropped it at Wild Adventures and the video display broke. Pictures, but no way to save the settings or see what I've done until hooking the camera up to the computer (you know, Old School, but with a twist). Then a week or so ago, the lens motor seemed to have broken. Nuttin'. Apparently it just had hiccups and needed to be scared.

Mower, Mower, Mower...

My chilluns got me an old fashioned non-gas-powered push mower for Father's Day. I begged for it, but it was still a nice surprise to actually get it. Took it out for a run today. Verdict: Eh. Seems to do great on the short stuff. Sadly, I got a mini-jungle out there. Looks like I'll have to borrow a power mower again to get the party started. It was still a pretty neat present.

Thanks, John, for reminding me to put in the video.

Happy Father's Day.

In memory of William "Bill" Mathews, Natrona County High School, Wyoming's favorite offensive guard (1931-1978).

Constitutional Law Primer.

WARNING! The following post may be extremely boring. Do not attempt to operate heavy machinery after reading it (or if, you know, you're not licensed to operate heavy machinery).

Last post I said: The Supreme Court this week overturned a lower court's dismissal of an action by Guantanamo detainees to have their status as detainees reviewed by civilian courts instead of presidentially configured military tribunals.

The double negative: what's not to not like? Apparently a lot. When my very intelligent, rising Sewanee Senior son asked me to explain exactly what the heck I was talking about in the body of my last post, it occurred to me that I might coulda been clearer about what I was saying. It was technically accurate (except that the heading was originally "Trail and Error" instead of "Trial and Error". A "trial" error right from the start), but was too condensed and left out plenty of steps that I should have included.

I used to do some appellate work. I've argued appeals from Magistrate Court and worker's comp tribunals to Circuit Court; from Circuit Court and Family Court to the Court of Appeals and the South Carolina Supreme Court; and from Federal District Court of S.C. to the Federal Fourth Circuit Court of Appeals (one case, two appearances. If you are really hurting for reading material and need that last little soporific morsel to send you to dreamland, try reading Collins Holding Corp. v. Jasper County, 123 F.3d 797, 799 (4th Cir. 1997), a case I argued that is actually cited quite a lot) and I assumed that everyone would be familiar with the steps and language of appeals. Anyway, if someone as smart as my son didn't know what I was talking about, I knew that, in the name of brevity, I left out the most important stuff in my recitation of the course of the BOUMEDIENE v. BUSH.

Everybody has heard of the "Bill of Rights"- the first ten amendments to the Constitution specifically demanded by delegations of some of the States guaranteeing certain individual rights such as the right to be secure against unreasonable search and seizure (Fourth Amendment), right to an attorney (Sixth Amendment), right against self-incrimination (Fifth Amendment), etc., as a precondition to their delegations ratifying the Constitution? Well, a right even more fundamental than any of those is the right of Habeas Corpus. The right to petition the Court to demand why you are being held in jail is so fundamental, it didn't need to be tacked on to the Constitution in an amendment; it's in the body of the Constitution. Among the "tools" that Congress gave to the President to battle terrorism following 9/11, was to eliminate the rights of "enemy combatants", such as members of al Queda, to Habeas Corpus. That all sounds well and good: after all, they're members of al Queda, right? Problem is, a lot of the people detained in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, by America, for years without trial, in some cases, claim they are not members of al Queda. Some of the people detained at GitMo, claim they aren't "enemy combatants" at all. The Statute under which they are detained says that the President gets to decide who is an "enemy combatant" (wonder if Bush considered calling John Kerry an "enemy combatant"?). If someone so characterized disagrees, his or her appeal is to a military tribunal. Hmm. A military tribunal, comprised of people who answer to the Executive Branch of Government instead of a judge or judges who answer to the Judicial Branch of Government? That's not habeas corpus.

Often, the person or entity who reviews your case is even more important than the facts or law of your case (hence the Judge Roy Bean video). Separation of powers/balance of powers, is one of the bulwarks we have in America to keep any particular person or group of people from forming a dictatorship. Until Marbury v. Madison, it wasn't clear that the Supreme Court, rather than Congress itself, got to decide the validity of acts passed by Congress. So, rather than just accepting a military tribunal's review of an "enemy combatant" determination, a bunch of GitMo detainees filed habeas corpus actions in United States District Court. The district court judge ruled that the Statute doesn't allow them to file habeas corpus actions in district court, and ordered the case to be dismissed, so the detainees filed an appeal from the District Court's order of dismissal to the U.S. Supreme Court. The Supreme Court considered their appeal, and ultimately REVERSED the Lower Court's ruling, finding that the portion of the statute under which those folks were detained which eliminated habeas corpus violated our Constitution. The detainees may still be found to be enemy combatants, in which case they won't be going anywhere; however, this was a major blow to Bush, because it will be someone outside of his branch of Government (the Executive Branch) who will be reviewing the determination. It gave the right to review a Executive Branch determination of whether someone was an "enemy combatant" back to the Judicial Branch of Government- which is what habeas corpus is all about. The Court split with Justice Kennedy writing the majority decision, or, as the case syllabus provides:

KENNEDY, J., delivered the opinion of the Court, in which STEVENS, SOUTER, GINSBURG, and BREYER, JJ., joined. SOUTER, J., filed a concurring
opinion, in which GINSBURG and BREYER, JJ., joined. ROBERTS,
C. J., filed a dissenting opinion, in which SCALIA, THOMAS, and ALITO, JJ., joined. SCALIA, J., filed a dissenting opinion, in which ROBERTS,
C. J., and THOMAS and ALITO, JJ., joined.

A five to four decision is as divided as you can get, but it's good to know that the Supreme Court still has some teeth, and maybe this is still an America I recognize, after all.

Trial and Error.

The Supreme Court this week overturned a lower court's dismissal of an action by Guantanamo detainees to have their status as detainees reviewed by civilian courts instead of presidentially configured military tribunals. Make no mistake about it: the person or entity that gets to decide an issue is frequently as important as the laws or facts at issue themselves. Wasn't it the Queen of Hearts in Lewis Carroll's "Through the Looking Glass" (or Disney's "Alice in Wonderland", if you'd rather) who said "words mean what I say they mean"? Or, you can consider justice as rendered by Judge Roy Bean, in the clip below:



You can review the decision yourself, if that sort of thing appeals to you, at: http://www.supremecourtus.gov/opinions/07pdf/06-1195.pdf

Too Old to Rock and Roll; Too Young to Die

I was checking out various youTube offerings and caught the date and site of this gem: Tampa Stadium, Summer of 1976. Son of a Kelly! I was there. Just finished my Sophomore year at A.P. Leto Comprehensive High School. My buddy Russ had talked me into selling cokes at Tampa Stadium for various events, this being one. AndyMan went with us from time to time. Not sure if he went on this one. It was a great gig. You paid a deposit for your first tray of cokes. Once you sell that first tray, you could turn it in and get more cokes. If you didn't feel like working very hard after you sold your first tray and got your money back, you could just sit on your tray and watch the concert. I'm pretty sure that's what I did on this one. Mighta sold a couple of trays, just so they'd let me vend at future concerts, but I doubt I sold many. It was about the show; not the dough. Rock on Jethro Tull!

Don't Hate Me Because I'm Beautiful...

I'm pretty sure Fred Flintstone owned this unit before it was attached to my house. I don't think I have to worry about freon, because I'm reasonably sure freon wasn't discovered (invented?) until at least a couple of decades after Orville and Wilbur put this particular AC unit together. I'm not complaining, mind you: it is functioning. The inside of my house is, for the moment, cooler than the outside of my house. This was not true until quite recently. My friend CT, who is also the investigator for the public defender's office, fixed it for me using his highly developed McGyver skills. I swear, at one point he had me bring him several ball-point pens, twist-ties and a glass of water. Well, I'm pretty sure he just drank the water, but the other stuff made the dormant machine go. I asked him how he did it, but he said he'd have to kill me if he told me. I wasn't taking a chance; he still had one ball-point pen left.

Mountain Goats.

A few weeks ago, I happened on this video whilst perusing the comments on one of Kate's posts (Out in Left Field). I think it's a cool, quirky tune. I was having some trouble embedding, and Amazing Ultrarunner AndyMan gave me a tip that I think fixed it. I guess we'll know soon enough.

Hot, Hot, Hot.

It was HOT in the Boro yesterday. How hot was it? It was so hot that the bank signs had to take a water break.

Cutting Remarks.

Grass shoots the size of small trees were a sign that, perhaps, it was time to cut the grass. Or, as the French say, "Mow d'Lawn". I covet a motorless mower, but lack the necessary ducats to make this capital investment today, so I trekked to the side yard and and rolled out the rusty, cantankerous lawn muncher that my babymamma plucked from the garbage bin to give me a year or so ago; grabbed the "go cord", and pulled. And pulled. And pulled. A decent work-out, but utterly unavailing to make the motor actually, you know, engage.

What to do? Couldn't really wait another week to cut. The ents would've thrown giant boulders and crushed the tower by then. Hmm. I accepted an offer from a Bro in the Boro to borrow a Toro (actually it wasn't a Bro, but I liked the alliteration).

I've included a picture of said Toro, but have artfully hidden the mower's identity. Actually, it was really hot, and I was sweating plenty, which, I suppose, is why the picture is blurred. I sorta liked the effect anyway.

A Flower Grows in Walterboro.

Lately I been whining a bit. Got my tax and money problems. Kids haven't been classroom stars of late. The SpongeBobMobile has not been doing right by me lately. Wah, Wah, Wah. When you get in that sort of mood, you start looking for things to go wrong so you get a bigger crowd at the pity party.

But it really ain't all that bad. We all have problems, but we all have blessings, too. Just like my troubles aren't necessarily the same as yours; My Blessings may not may not be either, but I got plenty of them. I got a family I love; friends in five states; a job I love working with people I care about. So, what's it take to wake up and realize things are no worse and no better than I choose to see them? Heard about, but don't remember reading, "A Flower Grows in Brooklyn". Maybe I read it. Can't recall, but the title, at least, sticks with me.

I walk to work most days, since I live less than a half mile from my office. Right in front of the Sheriff's Office a couple of spots have been recently re-landscaped. The flowers look really pretty. I looked around to see who was doing the work. It was a Trusty: an inmate at the jail, who has been given a little freedom in exchange for working on the public grounds. The dude is in for a year for not paying his child support. He could easily keep his job as a Trusty by just logging a couple of perfunctory hours, and taking a nap under a tree. But he doesn't do that. He works his tail off so that the grounds look pretty.

When I pass the guy, I give him a thumbs up and tell him how good his grounds look. He's grateful. He smiles and waves back. This guy's in jail for a year. Has to sleep in a smelly, noisy lockup with no privacy, no t.v., no games (not even a deck of cards), nothing to read except, if he wants, a holy book of his choosing. The food's not particularly good, either, but he's not bitter. If this guy's not complaining- if he's working hard to try to make things nice for other people, the people who ARRESTED him- what right do I have to shake my fist at God and ask how he could break my big screen t.v.?

Spank You, Very Much.

Whilst searching under the Lads' bed for a photo album, I noticed that they had adopted habits befitting their age and gender by tossing various and sundry items there, rather than, say, putting them up or throwing them away. What all's under there... Let's see: a pair of drawers (let's wash them, just to be sure); a bowl of what appears to have been Corn Pops, with spoon (carbon dating puts them at about March); a few pens; a Red Bull can; a home work assignment (top layer, must be early May); snack cake wrappers. Nope, nothing unusual.

Happy Birthday, Caroline!

Of my four children, probably my daughter, Caroline, is most like me. She's exuberant, funny and smart. I got lots of boys, but Daddy's only got one little girl. My Baby Girl is eighteen today.

Running Joke.

I didn't sleep well last night. My A/C's on the fritz. It was mid-nineties yesterday, and still pretty warm at night. I opened the windows, but buzzing, bumping, biting creatures evidently liked my house better than they liked my yard, and made social calls through the night. At one a.m., when I finally figured out that my space heater had a "fan only" feature, I finally dispersed the critters and cooled down enough to grab some Z's. Five and a half hours later, I argued with myself about running. I lost/won the argument, so I ran. Didn't want to, though. Oh, you might have to click on Andy's strip to read it.

Political Correctness and Arthur Ravenel

Arthur Ravenel, Jr., has got to be glad that May is over. It was a very bad month for the Charleston realtor, former Congressman, former State Senator, former candidate for Governor of S.C., and current Charleston County School Board member. His son, Thomas Ravenel reported to federal prison to serve a stretch for possession of cocaine charges he picked up after he (Thomas) had been elected S.C. Treasurer. Now, according to the Charleston "Post and Courier", "a group of about 30 community leaders led by the NAACP" wants "Uncle Arthur" to resign because Ravenel allegedly threatened the job of current Superintendent of Schools, Nancy McGinley, allegedly telling her he'd gotten rid of one "bitch" (apparently referring to former Superintendent Maria Goodloe-Johnson), and he could get rid of another (presumably, McGinley). African-American members of the School Board were not altogether pleased at the speed with which McGinley, who is "Euro-American" was appointed to replace Goodloe-Johnson, who is African-American, as Superintendent. So, why this out-pouring of support now for McGinley? Er, might have more to do with Ravenel than with McGinley.

This is not Uncle Arthur's first rodeo. Wikipedia's entry on Ravenel includes the following:

"Ravenel is a member of Moultrie Camp, Sons of Confederate Veterans, and is a supporter of the Confederate flag being flown at the South Carolina statehouse. He provoked controversy at a rally for the flag in 2000 when he referred to the NAACP as the “National Association for Retarded People”.[2] Ravenel upset even more people after he apologized to mentally handicapped people for comparing them to the NAACP. Many called for the Charleston bridge to be renamed.[1]
Ravenel once said that his fellow white congressional committee members operated on "black time", which he characterized as meaning "fashionably late"."

I'm guessing "politically correct" is not printed on Ravenel's business cards. Geez... Did I mention that Charleston has a really cool International arts festival?