Cole’S Law Blog

Disclaimer: I am writing the majority of this in invisible type for fear of anyone in class being able to read what I am currently writing about them. With taht being said, I profusely apologize for the following grammatical errors. Frst nad foremost is the sudent government representative to my immediate high noon. I have currently counted that he has five winter caps espousing the Obama/Biden ticket. The current color is red, but I soon anticipate transforming his white one into a more maroon varietal. He also has brown, blue, and black in his collection. On numerous occasions, other students who have validated his need for attention have asked him to remove the hat. In response to these requests he has adamantly refused, saying he is “still too proud.” I agree. He did his part in getting the word out to the people who were already going to vote for Obama by asking them to vote for Obama and giving them winter caps.[1] The new president-elect would be equally proud to learn of this support from a white-bread milk dud from Greenwich, Connecticut. At the same time though, I have to be respectful and recognize that this is one of my peers, which coincidentally is something that I feel many of us would like to throw him off of if this town had a boardwalk.

However, I have come to realize that my preoccupied disdain amounts to mere avoidance to the more pressing topic at hadn. Finals are imminently approaching and I’m tempted to go live in the mountains and not bother anybody until the coast is Clearasil. I am finally starting to study in between repeated viewings of movies that I’ve seen more than twice. My thinking has been marginally altered when I study. Whereas before I was studying like Mother Goose, with the hopes of being able to regurgitate facts and formulas to an ugly duckling of an exam, law school examinations bear more semblance to the head-spinning exorcisms that require an old priest and a young choirboy. I suppose the real test of this will all come out in my psychoanalysis, where an ink blot will probably end up looking like a fucking oil spill.

Shit, now the Obama dude is looking at the abroad program in Chile, which I too am thinking about for the summer. Although there are certain people here who in good faith have tried to be likable people, it is becoming increasingly clear that there is more to being a likable person than trying to be just that. With a hearty Thanksgiving still in my head, I think I’ll go home and watch Alive for a third time in between finalizing my outline for civil procedure. Nothing like a man-made meal in the middle of the Andes. [2] I wonder what they ate for dessert.

For my final contracts class, the professor invoked some saying by Oliver Wendell Holmes and some other law historian that called lawyers the background to social change as opposed to monarchies and other government entities. Besides the original pimp, lawyers are the oldest representation to the oldest profession and have been arbiters of awkward and perpetually pubescent social change. [3]

The professor then concluded it all with a heavy pronouncement about the answer to life: contracts. I mildly disagree with such a statement and draw your attention to the beginning of said life. It is clear that at the purported time of the professor’s initial contract formation, i.e. conception, I could not have had a say in the matter itself. Furthermore, if it was made by mutual mistake[4] then there is no contract whatsoever. This seems to indicate that I lacked the capacity to agree to life and therefore the contract is a nullity for failure of capacity as well as the undue influence by third parties. Therefore, if contracts are indeed the essence of life, and you don’t have a say in its formation, there is no bargained for consideration and thus, no real duty owed to anybody. Hence, from a true contractarian’s viewpoint, life is pointless. Maybe I’m a little disenfranchised, but I’m not sure I’m ready to support such deductive reasoning, which may be why I prefer torts. [5]

Right now, a bunch of people in the class are asking if they can listen to their iPods during the exam. These people will meticulously construct a playlsit with what I can imagine to be a mix between pump-up, confidence boosting hip-hop and neuron-firing Mozart that their parents played in their cribs when they were still shitting themselves. [6] I personally will be playing an eclectic mix of cold sweat and heavy breathing. I have already begun to meditate and have developed a mantra that has suited my cause. [7] As to studying and what lies ahead, it’s time to get the fire ready for the Hell of it. I think that I’ll take the soccer team’s advice and just desert. It’s time to cook this meet.