My Darkest Days are Ahead of Me...

Hello all:

I have reached a crossroads in my life. After this Spring, nothing will ever be the same again. I know that I will not find the same happiness that I currently do with the simple things in life. A baby's smile...a dog's wagging tale...Namby's mocking laughter...no, there are things that will forever change for me after this Spring.

I have fought it for as long as I can. I have struggled not to have to go down this dark path of oblivion, but with my life being the way it is, I have no choice. As an attorney working the hours that I work and having the quality of life that I have, it is inevitable that I would be forced to make this most distasteful, life altering, and most likely foolhardy decision-the most foolhardy that I have ever made.

I know that my decision will haunt me for the rest of my days, that I will be consumed by the beast that I intend to unleash, and that my decisions today will, in all likelihood, cost me many of the friendships that I now enjoy. I know that, after this Spring, my parents will not recognize me, my brother will likely curse my name, and all others will wonder whatever happened to the sweet-natured guy who was so easy going-the guy who was always there for you.

As I said, I have fought against this decision for months. It has been a difficult time, but in the end, I give up and give in. I cannot fight it anymore. I must embark on this dark path, and I fear that will never return. Let my blog be a lasting memorial to the person that I was, and I hope that some of you will be able to help me through the hell that is to come. I liken this to Frodo's journey-though he survived, he never truly healed from the wound inflicted by the Nazgul on Weathertop. I know that that wound is soon in my future, and all I can do is suck it up and hope for the best.

So what is this dark path that I am taking? Why will I turn into an obsessed person who will soon be a cursing fool (where at present I loathe to curse)? What is the fundamental aspect of my nature that I will be changing for all time?

I am taking up golf. May God have mercy on my soul.

(Betcha thought I was going somewhere COMPLETELY different, didn't you? :-)

And for Those Of You Who Were Worried...No Need!

Where I Am Part II...it kinda sucks...

My Mindset Today...Be Warned...

and if you cannot get that to work:


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Mqm3bO_pxA

Apparently, I am on The List...and it Feels Pretty Good...

People who know me know that I am a big goofball. I love my childish things, and I love toys (both big boy and small kid) to the point where I have waaaay too many action figures in my collection and a lot of electronics to boot. I love to cook and bake, I love excellent wine and wine tastings, but I am never above a rousing game of Rock Band or a viewing of Futurama. Things being what they are, it is no surprise that people who are my friends see me in a certain way, a persona that is veerrry different from that which is my face in the working world.

At work, I cease being Artful and I become DR. BLOGGER. I refrain from speaking in Yoda's voice and do everything with purpose and confidence. I write briefs, answer patent examiners questions, confer with inventors and in-house counsel on a daily basis, lunch with partners, and interact with the staff on a boss-employee level (but always with respect, as the Artful Mom taught me). Somewhere between my condo filled with plastic electronic drum kits and the 32nd floor of the high rise where my office sits, with a view of downtown Chicago towards the lake, I transform from Artful to Dr. Blogger. I don't know what it is, but Dr. Blogger gets a lot more respect from people where Artful would not even get a second glance. Doors open, people respond, and things that I ask for get done.

Of course, it is strange to think that all of this is true. I am always the same person. That is fundamental and does not change. What changes is the public face because unfortunately, in the working world, such a demeanor is necessary to be taken seriously. There are, however, people who view Dr. Blogger in ways that they would never view poor, hapless Artful, so neatly personified in my Opus icon.

What do I mean? Well, this weekend I was dining with a few work colleagues. I had judged a legal competition, and we had decided to grab some food afterward. I hardly ever hang out with coworkers, so this was a welcome treat for me. So there we were, a male coworker and a female coworker and I, sitting down to dinner and wine. After a couple of hours, a few courses and a LOT of wine, the conversations became a little more...a...open. I, of course, was pretty sober. My coworkers...not so much. We started talking about the office and the people therein, as many coworkers do when they are out and about. I wondered aloud how people thought of me and expressed my fervent hope that I was not viewed as some kind of a-hole. The female co-worker rapidly disavowed me of that notion and, simultaneously, made my year.

Female co-worker: "Artful, really, you have nothing to worried about. Everyone at the firm really likes you."

Artful: "I don't buy that. I don't know everyone at the firm."

FCW: "Well, they know you or at least, they know OF you."

Artful: "Ooookaay-what the heck does that mean?"

FCW (after 6 glasses of Riesling, mind you): "Well come ON, Artful. You KNOW that you are on THE LIST!!!"

Artful: ". . . . . "

FCW: "You KNOW-THE LIST!" (pause) "Oh....maybe I should not say anything else..."

Artful (thinking that it is something bad now): "No, no...I can take it. Am I on the list of office a-holes?"

FCW: "Hardly-see, sometimes the female attorneys and some of the female staff get together for drinks and we discuss things, and we made a list of..."

Artful (thinking the suspense unbearable): "OF WHAT???"

FCW: "of the male attorneys we want to get into bed with."

Silence around the table. FCW rapidly blushes and turns beet red. I, on the other hand, immediately get a giant grin on my face. Hot damn...maybe there IS something to the whole confidence thing after all. I mean, I would never act on it, but it is damn flattering to be objectified in THAT way after toiling way in the kingdom of the nerds for so long.

The silence was broken by male co-worker

MCW: "So how many people are on the list?"

FCW (now choosing her words carefully): "Ten"

MCW: "And where, exactly, is Artful?"

FCW: "Oh...umm...top 5." At this point, I was doing the Snoopy dance in my head-once again, not because I would ever act on it but because people considered me that attractive when I am in business mode.

MCW: "Where am I on the list?"

FCW: "Oooo...ummm...you aren't."

Would it be wrong to say that that statement made me even happier? Yes, sometimes, I can be that shallow. In the end, I recognize it for what it was. The Artful who plays video games and sits around in jeans and a sweatshirt was not the object of affection; it was Dr. Blogger, the professional patent attorney who is strong and forceful and gets things done.

But which one is the real me?

Like the Finer Things Club, but Better

Last night was the first meeting of the Wednesday Night Club. In attendance were Daisy, PAG, the Alleged Lady, the Namby Pamby, and the Wayward Esquire. There will be many funny stories (I am sure) recounted in the blogs of my fellow bloggers, but this one story that I will recount requires a little background first.

Background Part I: The Esquire, Daisy, PAG and I attended the wedding of a friend of ours in the mecca of Rockford, IL last September. At the reception, our table was the most boisterous thanks to some hi jinks on the part of myself and the Esquire. Right as our 12 year-old level humor was cracking up the entire table (except for PAG and Daisy, who looked on in embarrassment), a gentleman named "Mr. Wizard" took center stage. He was a children's entertainer and told the story of the courtship of the wedded couple through a fairy tale complete with..props...Mr. Wizard proceed to tell the story of a man looking for a furry animal in the dense forest-and that was merely the first of many double entendres and phallic shaped instantly inflated balloon props that sent our table (already laughing over other things) over the edge. Our friends, the bride and groom, watched Mr. Wizard in stunned silence, but I must say it was the best entertainment I have ever witnessed at a wedding. I am still laughing at the memory as I type this.

Background Part II: When we gathered at the watering hole last night, Daisy joked that her mother had asked if her VERY SOUTHERN and old fashioned grandmother would be..OK...with me attending the wedding. You know, 'cause I am an Indian and all of that. We both laughed a little at that because Daisy has told her grandmother about me, and between my love of the novel "Chiefs" as well as through other things, I know that her grandmother would be fine with me (something that did not stop the Alleged Lady from wickedly suggesting that she and I share a deep and soulful interracial kiss right in front of Grandma Duke). Still, I took it for what it was-Daisy and I laughing about me not being allowed to enter the grounds because of my color. I joked that I could maybe park cars and that I might make some good tip money if people mistake me for a member of the wait staff.

Now we come to why you needed the background. As we were all discussing the wedding, I joked to Daisy "maybe you should invite Mr. Wizard." Predictably, Daisy, PAG, the Esquire, and myself started chortling as we all remembered the experience at the last wedding. UNPREDICTABLY, the largest laugh at my suggestion came from the Namby Pamby. As he recovered from his laughter, doubled over and all, I waited until he caught his breath.

Artful: "Wait, do you know the story of the wedding where there was that kids' entertainer Mr. Wizard?"

Namby: "Oh no! I thought you were suggesting that Daisy invite the KKK Wizard-you know, with it being the South and all."

Cue renewed laughter on all sides at the images of TWO visions in white at Daisy's wedding and a renewed discussion of the merits of "Blazing Saddles."

My Love-Hate Relationship With Facebook

It all started my first year of law school. I was sitting in class (paying attention), and I noticed that many of my fellow first years were fixated on this web page that had photos on it. I was able to pick up the name of the application-something called Facebook. Back then, one had to have a university-based e-mail address in order to sign on (translation-no old people), but since I was able to slip under this barrier as a 34 year old graduate student, I decided to see what the fuss was about. What I discovered was a true monument to...well..MONUMENTS. A place for people to have their space a la My Space but better organized. A site where people could indulge the hidden (and not-so-hidden) voyeurs that resided within and at the same time could brag about how great they looked, the relationships they were in, and how many people were their "friends." I remember waiting on pins and needles for some people to accept my friend requests (I know, lame, but remember that law school is, in the words of Ms. Sharpe, "like high school with alcohol"), and I remember the brief feeling of self worth when one was accepted. Of course, nothing was better than RECEIVING a friend request because that just meant that someone WANTED to be your friend to the point of SEEKING YOU OUT! Quite the ego stroke.

Now, over time, I started doing a few more things through Facebook. It was a great way to keep track of people's birthdays, so I made it a point to attempt to stay up and be the FIRST person to wish them Happy Birthday. I started using the Event application to set up movie viewings and invite people to the annual Halloween blow-out. I also LOVED writing on people's walls. It was a nice way to communicate and get communication back. And then...it started becoming the BEST way to procrastinate. I wasted untold hours on Facebook...checking every 5 minutes or so because SOMETHING had to have changed, right? My friends grew from 10 to 100 to over 200 quite quickly. Do I really KNOW all of these people? No. I had put up so many pictures from my various events that I never stopped to consider how much of my privacy I had willingly given up for the sake of feeling good about my ego. I started to realize that Facebook makes it TOO easy not to maintain personal contact. I have this theory that man only ventured from his cave because he needed to find food and companionship. With the advent of the internet, after millenia of evolution, man has finally reached the point where he need never leave his cave. We have Peapod for groceries and Amazon for everything else. Facebook covers the social needs of man quite well (as do MMORPGs such as World of Warcraft). While all of this technology makes keeping in touch with people "easier", is that necessarily a good thing? Are we losing the ability to personally interact?

A few weeks ago, when I was contemplating the cessation of my blog (not gonna happen, so you are all stuck with my rants), I actually removed my Facebook profile for a week. Just a week. See, Facebook had tried to change the terms of use to read that they owned ALL of the content that we put on their site. I relented however, as having a minimal profile on Facebook with no pictures and even less information proved to be less taxing than fielding e-mails from people wondering why I "de-friended" them when, in fact, I had not. I did, however, vow to not depend on Facebook for most social interaction. I abhor communication strictly via text or internet. I understand that sometimes, this is more convenient for both parties, but I feel that it should be done as a means of last resort as opposed to the first option. I will admit that I was flattered when so many people wrote on MY wall for my birthday, and I made it a point to individually contact each person in turn to thank them (none of this blanket "thanks to everyone for their birthday greetings!" status nonsense). However, I am not going to do it anymore myself: no more wishing anyone Happy Birthday on Facebook. It is my own thing, and I do not begrudge anyone who does it. Maybe I am just being old fashioned, but I need to take a stand. Technology is forcing me to withdraw more and more from social interaction.

Now, what is amusing about this post is what happened after I started writing it. You see, I went to work early this morning to get some work done. After 4 hours at the office, I (yup) checked Facebook and found that one of my friends from high school was in town for a wedding and was in my neighborhood to boot! Thanks to Facebook, I was able to meet up with my friend and we talked as if 20 years had NOT passed since the last time we saw each other (ouch-I am old). It also turned out to be a business write off, as the husband of the couple whose wedding my friend was in town for is founding a software company in Chicago and needs an IP attorney. Can you say "business lunch"? In truth, my afternoon was only made possible by Facebook, for it was via Facebook that I was able to find her and, eventually, meet in Chicago when she lives in Raleigh, NC. I now have an open invite to stay with her and her husband the next time I am in Raleigh, and I extended the same invitation to her and her husband the next time THEYare in Chicago.

Maybe Facebook is a good thing in moderation. I dunno. Do you have any thoughts?

Watchmen

"We in this country, in this generation, are by destiny, rather than choice, the watchmen on the walls of world freedom."
John F. Kennedy (from the speech he intended to give in Dallas the day of his assassination, as quoted by Alan Moore in the graphic novel "Watchmen").


Adaptations are a tricky business. Whenever a film maker undertakes adapting an existing work, he is working to please 2 audiences: those who are familiar with the source material and want to see everything faithfully reproduced for the screen and those who are NOT familiar with the work yet want to see a good film if not a faithful cinematic adaptation. Hollywood in general has taken note, and their wholesale bastardization of books, a practice that had its inception during the early studio days, has given way to an effort to please the fans of the source materials. Of course, because so much more can go into a book than the average 2 hour movie (stemming from a 130 page screenplay), usually some things have to be sacrificed for the big screen. Witness Warner Brothers' handling of the "Harry Potter" series. There is a LOT missing from the adaptations, but whereas Chris Columbus' first two films were the most faithful, they also tended to be the most boring. It was only when Alphonso Cuaron, Mike Newell, and David Yates took the reins of the franchise that the Potter series rose above the written word and became wonderful cinematic adaptations. Of course we were missing Hermione's whole Society for the Promotion of Elf Welfare subplot...but did we really miss it? In fact, the most successful, up until now, adaptation of a beloved work has been Peter Jackson's "Lord of the Rings" trilogy. Long thought to be unfilmable, Jackson took pains to satisfy the legions of fans reared on the written adventures of the Baggins family. Of course, he, too, took liberty with the story, but the excision of Tom Bombadill and the barrow wight actually helped the story move along. Film makers thus are forced to walk a very narrow line in terms of being faithful to the written word but not a slave to it to the point where the word shackles the film maker and removes his own creative energy from the work.

Of course, the rules are different when film makers adapt graphic novels. Here, the creators of the works in question have already provided the blueprint and storyboard of the film through the creation of panels of art holding the words of the script. The best of these adaptations embrace the vision of the creator by framing shots as depicted within the comic panels. The creativity for the film maker lies not in recreating a classic but in interpreting such scenes in a new medium. Robert Rodriguez successfully accomplished this with his adaptation of Frank Miller's "Sin City" and Zack Snyder did the same with his adaptation of Miller's "300." Both of these works, however, were below the radar of most comics readers. Only the die hards really knew of them before the movies came out, but this is not the case for all graphic novels. Some graphic novels have rabid followings of legions of fans, akin to the fans of the Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings series. To them, the creator's written words are gospel and the artist's panels are the only true visualization of the story. How could a director possibly satisfy this exacting group of people?

Now, before I get into my review of "Watchmen," let me share with you my own personal history with the story. The year was 1986. I was 15 years old and had been collecting comics for about two years. I had already started getting Frank Miller's groundbreaking miniseries "Batman: The Dark Knight Returns" and, to this day, the original issues are in a special place in my collection. Another series caught my eye that year. The cover of the first issue was intriguing...a smiley face amidst what looked like blood.


I purchased the first issue and I was hooked...a story that started with the murder of a old super hero...one created just for the miniseries. Over the course of the next year, I was introduced to further pieces of the story, but nothing I had read in the previous 10 months prepared me for the climax of the story in issues 11 and 12. I was stunned. I was surprised. I am talking "The Usual Suspects" and "Se7en" levels of shock and surprise. I never even saw it coming. It stunned me and excited me. What a great WORK OF ART. Every year, I revisited "Watchmen" and re-read the story. Ever year, something new...some nuance or subtle symbolism that ran through the series-that had earlier escaped my notice would jump off the page and leave me with the same feeling as I had when I had first completed the miniseries. I still get that feeling every year when I read the complete work-it is THAT GOOD.

But how could something this creative...this amazing...this CINEMATIC in storytelling-so full of subtle nuance and compelling overlapping plotlines-be brought to the screen in any manner that would be even SORT of faithful to the source material. Word of an adaptation soon started circling after the success of Tim Burton's (now dated) adaptation of "Batman" in 1989. Sam Hamm was commissioned to write a script with Terry Gilliam attached to direct. Of course, this version, and many others like it, fell by the wayside. "Watchmen" writer Alan Moore went on record as saying that the graphic novel was unfilmable..that the whole reason of telling the story in the graphic novel format was because it could NOT be told via the medium of film. The times were also wrong for a film of this somber and adult material. After all, people wanted to see Jack Nicholson as the Joker and Michelle Pfieffer as Catwoman. This was before the highs of "Batman Begins", "X-Men", "The Dark Knight", "Spider-Man 2," and "Iron Man." This was before the lows of "Batman and Robin" and "Ghost Rider." So what changed everything?

The success of the adaptations of adult graphic novels such as "Sin City" and "300." In one fell swoop, these films caused Hollywood to sit up and take notice that faithful adaptations of adult graphic novels COULD be profitable. More importantly, the powers-that-be recognized that they did not have to "dumb down" the works for the mass audience. With the success of "300" behind him, Snyder made no secret that he wanted his next project to be "Watchmen." He even went so far as to include a single frame of a shot of Rorschach in a late trailer for "300."

Of course, the fanboys were nervous. Alan Moore refused to support the film in any way, but Snyder was able to enlist artist Dave Gibbons for help in creating the world of "Watchmen." When the first trailer came out, the fanboys (myself included) howled with glee, for we saw that Snyder had gone so far as to PERFECTLY TRANSLATE several scenes direct from the comics page onto the big screen. Still, the graphic novel was massive. How could Snyder possibly hope to create a faithful adaptation of such a dense work? What would be cut? Would the material cut include some of the most important aspects in search of a shorter run time?

Now, I was excited for the film, to the point where the minute that tickets went on sale for opening night at the Navy Pier IMAX, I purchased tickets for myself and a few other people...in JANUARY. As the time grew closer for the film's release, I started seeing 2 types of reviews-overwhelmingly positive and scathingly negative, with little few and far between. I also noticed something else...those who wrote the positive reviews "got" it. They were either fans of the source material or were sophisticated enough to follow the convoluted story, one that, to my understanding, never pandered to its audience or spoon fed it any exposition. The negative critics...well, I knew what to expect when reading their opinion of this "comic book" movie. I have a feeling that they were walking into the theater expecting to see "X-Men" or some other such nonsense. These are the people who did NOT get it. They did not want to get it. They saw Snyder's work as gratuitous in terms of the sex and violence depicted in a superhero movie. They missed the point that the film is NOT a superhero film. They also missed the point that Snyder did not create the controversial scenes in the film-he merely faithfully adapted them for a new medium.

Having now seen "Watchmen" in IMAX, all I am left with is a sense of awe. With the exception of an atrocious soundtrack (except for Dylan's "The Times They Are A'Changing" played over the opening credits), the entire film was a visual smorgasbord for this "Watchmen" fan. Repeatedly, I found myself smiling with glee as the images on the screen perfectly recreated the panels that are so ingrained in my memory. I saw an incredible performance by Jackie Earle Haley as Rorschach. I saw an amazing "acting" job by Billy Crudup as Dr. Manhattan. All of the performances were spot on, and the effects were well done as well. And people will NEVER see Jeffrey Dean Morgan (the beloved Denny Duquette from "Grey's Anatomy") in the same light again. He inhabited the skin of the morally corrupt Comedian, whose brutal murder begins the film.

So what is the film about? Ostensibly, the film is about a "hero killer", someone slowly taking out masked adventurers. But to what end? Along the way, we learn of the pasts of some of the heroes. We see them struggle with every day problems in realistic ways. We see "what could have been" if the American dream came true. We see the ugliest side of human nature and how that can drive even the most noblest of men to madness. This film provides an unflinching look into the human psyche, and it shrouds it within the garb of a "comic movie." Of course, there were some changes from the book, most notably the endgame. However, Snyder successfully retained the key elements of the story and blended them together to the point where this fanboy was shaking his head in incredulity by the end of the film. How did he do it?

Now, a warning. This film is NOT for everyone. It is VIOLENT. Extremely violent. Painfully violent. In spite of that, it works BECAUSE it feels real. This is not a Spider-Man film where the violence has no consequence. Here, the audience feels every punch and sees the realistic results.

This is a film about morally ambiguous costumed adventurers.-what I believe represent such adventurers if they existed in the real world. The film also creates a snapshot of the world in 1985. I remember the Cold War and the U.S.S.R. and the daily threat of nuclear war. Much as the graphic novel demands new visits every year, so too, I think, will this film. I cannot wait for the fully loaded ultimate blu-ray to be released in the fall (a lesser version is being released in the spring). Bravo, Zack Snyder. You filmed the unfilmable. Thank you for being faithful.

What an amazing experience.

Update: for a wonderful article on the source graphic novel click here.

Thank You! Come Again!

Note: I love reading the Namby Pamby's call logs so much that I thought I would steal his idea and recount one of my own.

The phone rings in the Artful's office.

Artful: "Hello?"

Caller: "Is this Mr. Blogger?"

Artful (already irritated because, by the sound of the thick Indian accent on the other end, he knows what is coming): "Actually, it's DR. Blogger."

Caller: "Mr. Blogger (seriously??), I am calling from (generic Indian IP company) to tell you that we do a lot of consulting work for IP. We were wondering if you wanted to outsource your work to us."

Side note. I have been a bit worried as of late, for patent prosecution for biotech in our firm has nosedived within the last few months. I am on a lot of litigations, but still..what is going on? Now I have this Indian joker trying to take MORE work away in THIS economy? Riiiiight....

Back to the call...

Blogger: " I am a freaking first year associate. I have no power when it comes to making these decisions. "

Caller: "Mr. Blogger (again, really?), could you tell me who, in your firm, does have the power to make these decisions?"

Blogger (extremely irritated at this point): "No, and in the future, might I suggest that you pay more attention to whom you are calling? Dr. Blogger is now hanging up the phone. Thank you. Come again."

This was the 4th such call I have received recently. The only thing that I can figure is that the Indian patent firms think they have an "in" with my firm just because I am Indian. Sorry, it does not work that way. I was more pissed off than anything. I mean, why would you try to take my work away from me?

AND???? I know that it is pissy and snooty of me, but professionally, I am Dr. Blogger (though sometimes friends call me that just to poke fun and I feel embarrassed). If you are trying to get business, use the proper titles and let the other person tell you that the titles are unnecessary.

Yes, I really did say "Thank you, come again." And yes, I slipped into the heaviest Indian accent I could muster.

On second thought, maybe I should not have invited them to "come again." Crap...more calls are headed my way, aren't they?

A Nation of Cowards

Eric Holder, our nation's first African American attorney general, made a very controversial statement earlier last month (celebrated as Black History Month). He said that we are a nation of cowards when it comes to discussing race. Race always seems to be the 2000 lb gorilla in the room-the thing that no one wants to talk about but is always present. For the most part, I think that many white Caucasians are reticent to speak honestly on race issues because they cannot win. If they speak highly of African Americans, they are seen as needlessly pandering to that population. If they speak ill IN ANY WAY of African Americans, they are immediate viewed as racists. As a member of neither group, I have seen this in action, and it is indeed sad. It is no wonder that we are a nation of cowards. Everyone walks around on egg shells trying not to upset the status quo. So where is a person to go where someone does not follow the status quo? Where are people fearless enough not to succumb to easy race baiting and state things in such stark terms that people should be forced to discuss race issues?

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the comedy genre-most notably "Family Guy" and the Mel Brooks classic, "Blazing Saddles". Now, mind you, the central concept of these works-"making you feel uncomfortable enough to talk about it"-is not just limited to race relations. Sexual orientation and gender relations are also a part of the larger equations. Abortion, violence against women and gays, pedophilia-these are all very real problems in our society that are NOT going away unfortunately. People just do not discuss these topics at parties or other gatherings. As individuals move beyond high school and college, there are no fora where discourse on these topics can occur-and it does need to occur-not just in the news media but among the citizenry.

So what are we left with? Why, we are left with the satirists-those individuals who poke fun at our society and make us uncomfortable enough to face some real hard truths. Take "Family Guy," for example. There are more racist, sexist, anti-Semitic, misogynistic jokes per minute on "Family Guy" than on any other show on television. These jokes, alternatively, make me laugh and wince in uncomfortable silence. It is during these moments that Seth MacFarlane, "Family Guy's" creator, is at his most effective. On the surface, his show panders to the lowest common denominator, but the more intelligent television viewer ( I know, quite the oxymoron) will see the show as a stage upon which MacFarlane is able to strip away the curtain and focus in on the problems in our society, including racism, homophobia, violence against women, pedophilia, the great numbers of the poor and homeless in the wealthiest country in the world, and the lack of accommodation that all too often face the disabled. While it would be all to easy to dismiss MacFarlane's creations as ignorant caricatures of American society, I view them as providing the opportunity to demystify the taboo topics that we never...seem...to...talk about. I have actually had conversations when people are discussing a particular scene that may have been racist or sexist, and I am able to stop them and ask them "what was so funny about it?" More often than not, they stop and reflect on how their own passive acceptance is contributing to the problem rather than formulating a solution. Of course, the major problem with the shows is that the lowest common denominator likely fails to look beneath the surface and recognize it as satire. The optimist inside me would like to believe that the true leaders of society would be able to educate the lowest common denominator and address these very real problems in our society. Hopelessly naive? I prefer to think of myself as hopeFULLy naive.

It is interesting how 5 different people can watch something like "Blazing Saddles", and those 5 people can walk away with 5 different opinions. You will have someone laugh throughout the entire film and see it as "the way things are." These people are what is classified as the lowest common denominator. You then have the people who do not laugh at anything and repeatedly utter the phrase :"this is not that funny" or "I don't get it." These we classify as either humorless or those who are offended to the point where they cannot laugh. I classify these individuals as the ones who are the opposite of the lowest common denominator; at the same time, their refusal to find ANY humor leads me to believe that satire in any shape would be completely lost on them, thereby short circuiting any intelligent discourse that might otherwise have arisen. We then get the people who are ONLY offended by the racial material OR the sexist material OR the homophobic material, but not ALL three (as they should be). We deem these people the truly myopic. The fourth type of person is the transitional person-the one who laughs but who feels, in their heart of hearts, that something is amiss. These are the ones who can learn the most from the movie, especially at the hands of the fifth kind of person-the enlightened movie watcher who recognizes the issues, laughs at the ignorance in our society these films are clearly poking fun of, and educate (in reverse order) the other 4 types of people.

Don't get me wrong-sometimes you can just go to a movie and just enjoy yourself and laugh. I do, however, find it extremely short sighted for ANYONE to write off satire just because it offends their delicate sensibilities. My challenge to those people is to USE the material as the vehicles of change. It is too easy to change the channel to watch something as vapid as "Rob and Big", "Paradise Hotel", or "Rock of Love." It is much more difficult to watch something that offends you and use it as a vehicle for discussion.

After 3 years, this weekend I finally got around to watching "Good Night, and Good Luck", George Clooney's film covering CBS newsman Edward R. Murrow's face-off against Wisconsin Senator Joseph McCarthy during his anti-communist crusade of the 1950s. It is hard to believe it, but newsmen used to be respected. The media was not separated into "the right" and "the left"-before the drive of the all mighty dollar, newsmen heard a higher calling-that of the truth. Edward R. Murrow exemplified this in his confrontation with McCarthy. Everyone was too scared to take him on for fear of being labeled a terrorist...I mean COMMUNIST. Oops...anyway, it was only through the efforts of Murrow and his fellow newsmen at CBS that McCarthy was taken down and censured by the Senate. The media was looking out for the people-how sad that this ideal, so commonplace in the 1950s, should seem so revolutionary today. In the 1950s, we could look to reporters as the ultimate arbiters of truth and honest discussion of our nation's ills. Now? All we are left with is a never ending parade of political pundits trying to force their own agendas onto the American public. There seem to be no more heroes, especially not in the media, so who can we look to?

The changes need to start with US-The People (as in "We, the People of the United States"). The discussion of these very real problems with the world start with us. Although it may be easier for us to just focus on what the American Dream has come to mean (designer clothing, high living, and unbearable debt), we need to focus on what the dream COULD BE-accessible heath care not just for women but for ALL, in a system that does NOT punish those of us who work the hardest (i.e., the highest taxes paid by the those who have worked hardest to make the most money). We CAN have a society where racism by ALL races (yes, all races are guilty of it) is condemned in public by everyone. Our society can be the one to put an end to homophobia, violence against women, hunger and poverty, but it can only be that way if we stop being so focused on ourselves INDIVIDUALLY.

Unfortunately, Holder is right-we ARE a nation of cowards. In our struggles to not be contrary and hurt people's feelings, we allow these societal evils to flourish and grow even as we make noises as to how we need to stamp them out. It has to start with us. It has to start with painful honesty. There has to be an end to hypocrisy.

Watch This Space

For there is more to come. Thanks to everyone for their show of support. I actually had no idea that people read this thing until I saw my inbox and the sweet comment from the irrepressible Daisy Duke.

You guys are great. My posts may be a bit hit or miss for a while, and I might not always be a shiny happy person, things could always be worse. At least I do not live in the slums of Mumbai!

For your entertainment today, I leave you with this post (courtesy of a reader who I will call Mrs. Sharpe) that is a sad commentary on the state law students today. Graduates of this school oughta be proud of the students who have taken their place since they have left:

http://campuslol.com/blog/index.php/2009/02/21/katrina-von-sutphin/

Wow (and not in a good way). So, she hopes to be employed by what kind of prestigious law firm?

The Artful Blogger-signing off...

When I started this blog, it was meant to be an anonymous chronicle of my life as a law student at beyond, but it has grown to be so much more. I have been exposed to so many more people and other bloggers, but at the same time, I think that I have lost some of the freedom that comes from being able to blog anonymously. That, and some things that are happening in the real world, have made it hard to me to continue. I am going to "blog" the old fashioned way-in a written journal. I have started, and perhaps in the future you might find some of the pages in some obscure portion of the internet and wonder to yourself "is this Artful"? Thanks to all of you who have helped me through some of my best and worst times in my life. I appreciate it. I leave you with a movie quote (appropriate, I know) that kind of sums up where I am right now and why I need to reflect in a big way:

From Lethal Weapon

Murtaugh (upon being partnered with Riggs): "God hates me-that's what it is"

Riggs: "Hate him back-it works for me."

Time for Another Tale From the Past: Part I of the Great Black Car Story

Many of you read and marveled at the wonder that is the Artful Mom. When I was thinking about that story, I started reminiscing about something else, an inanimate object for which I have an enormous amount of nostalgic affection. That object would be the first car purchased by the Artful Parents. To understand the hows and whys of how the Artful Parents ended up with the MOST AWESOME CAR, you have to understand that the Artful Dad was, and is, a car nut. He LOVES cars, and his love of cars is something that he has passed on to both the Artful Brother and myself. When AD and AM first arrived on these shores, their only objective was to save money so that they could return to India and open up their own clinic. Part of their salary, however, was going to pay off their flight here + room + board, and back then, foreign medical grads in Baltimore did not get paid a lot. Not at ALL. The AM, however, was, and is, a master of saving money. After scrimping, saving, and going without, she was able to save out of their meager paychecks $1000, a pretty nice sum of money in those days. She was so proud of herself. They had started their nest egg, and they would be independent before long.

Ahh...but here is where the Artful Dad made what at the time could have been a marriage-dissolving decision but what instead ended up as the best purchase he ever made. While roaming around the Baltimore suburbs, he happened to walk by a Mercedes dealership. Now, Mercedes was not the status symbol that it is today. Also, unlike today, Mercedes Benz automobiles were renown for their high quality. They were veritable TANKS. My father and mother had discussed purchasing one and having it shipped back to India when the time came to leave. Well...maybe discussed is the wrong word. Dad brought it up, and Mom said she would think about it. Well, that was all the Artful Dad needed to hear. In his mind, since Mom never said "no", she said "yes" (a mistake that she has never again made to this day). The day that Mom was celebrating having her first $1000 in the bank account, Dad was at R & H Motor Cars in Owings Mills, Maryland putting that same $1000 down as a down payment on the new member of the family. It was gorgeous. It was black. It had tailfins. It was all metal (no plastic on this puppy). There was no air conditioning either, and it was a diesel. It was a 1967 Mercedes Benz 200D.

Gorgeous, isn't it? The picture really does not do justice to what a behemoth this car was on the road. This was a BIG CAR. It had the most ingenious center console, a speedometer that was a mercury-like gauge that would change from yellow to red through different transitions that indicated when you needed to shift gears. It was a diesel too, so there was a lot of power. The AD purchased the car, and immediately he drove to the Maryland Department of Motor Vehicles to..ah..get his driver's license. The Artful Mom still tells the story of when he pulled up in his prize. She looked at it and immediately ran into their apartment crying. Poor Mom. All of her money gone. In her mind, the AD had not even asked her. Slowly, she started coming around-especially after Dad took her for a spin. You see, this was Dad's first car ever. He wanted to be able to take care of his wife and family, and in Baltimore, it was tough to get around solely on public transportation. The car was their ticket to freedom.

But why does a car, to this day, still hold such a very special place in the hearts of me and my family? What happened to the car? Are there any adventures to be told that occurred in the car? Tune in and find out in my next post...

Stolen Lines #2

"Ghosts definitely live here," I say.


During the two years before I entered law school, I had a pretty fun job. I was an applications scientist for a Big Biotech Company (BBC). Now, BBC was based in California, but I was based out of Chicago. My office was my home, and it was a wonderful thing. I reported into my boss on occasion, but for the most part, I lived on the road. My territory extended, at its height, as far west as Colorado, as far north as Montana, as far south as Texas and as far east as Michigan. I had every single state in between, and the travel was...umm...extensive to say the least. I would fly out on Monday mornings and usually not come home until Friday evenings. I used to call my apartment at the time my $1000 per month storage unit. It was kinda sad. I loved the nomadic lifestyle my job afforded me, the flights, the meals, the rental cars, the hotels, the company car, the company phone, etc. All of the bells and whistles that makes business travel fun, I dug.

True story that puts into perspective how much I traveled. During my second week in law school, I was on my lunch break when my cell phone rang.

Artful: "Hello?"

Marriott VP: "Hello, is this Dr. Blogger?"

Artful (confused): "Umm...yes, why?"

Marriott VP: "Dr. Blogger, we noticed that you have not staying in our hotels in quite a while. We were concerned, as our Platinum Members are very important to us. Is there anything that we can do to make sure that you choose us in your business travels?"

Holy crap. Was he serious?

Artful: "No, no...I have not been traveling in a while."

Marriott VP: "Well, you let me know if there is anything we can do to help. Have a good day, sir."

Wow. I really used to travel a LOT.


Because I was not a salesperson, I was usually met with open arms by most principal investigators in the labs I visited. I had the opportunity to travel to large companies like Monsanto and Eli Lilly to give scientific talks to everyone from lab technicians to boards of directors. I saw some amazing research and met some fascinating people along the journey. I also made it a point to visit the various points of interest in the places that I visited. After all, when does one have the chance to do something like that on the company's dime?

Among all of the places that I visited, however, one of the most powerful places, where I actually felt the ghosts of the past, was right here in Chicago. I was on the University of Chicago campus. It was a normal crisp fall day, and classes were in session, so the various areas around campus were filled with kids getting to class, their knapsacks haphazardly slung around their shoulders, young men and young women getting along with their lives. I remember walking across the street adjoining some buildings, but my attention was then diverted by a fascinating sculpture that was in the middle of this flat area. At first glance, I thought it was a sculpture of a tooth, but as I looked closer, its appearance seemed to alternate between a nuclear mushroom cloud and a skull. Seeing as how college campuses are hotbeds for protesters, I thought that it might have been placed there in honor of some famous protest or another.

I moved in to take a closer inspection of the monument. I circled it, staring at it intently and taking in its grotesque, yet haunting beauty. My eyes were then drawn to the unobtrusive plaque attached to the base. I moved in to read the words, and as I read them, I felt a shudder creep down my spine:

Here, on December 2, 1942, a small group of scientists under the supervision of Nobel laureate (1938) Enrico Fermi (1901-1954) achieved for the first time the controlled release of nuclear energy.

HOLY CRAP! This was where it all happened. The start of the Nuclear Age, the Cold War, the Berlin Wall, the Cuban Missile Crisis, the arms race whose conclusion could only be mutually assured destruction. I could almost close my eyes and hear the whispers of the scientists responsible, those who died eventually from the radiation poisoning and those who wished that they had never succeeded in creating a self sustaining nuclear reaction. I imagined the spirits of the victims of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the ultimate losers in Oppenheimer's and Fermi's work on the Manhattan Project, of which the U of C experiment was a part. I could almost see the spirits of the victims of the Chernobyl tragedy.

"Ghosts definitely live here," I say.

How could they NOT? Seeing this sculpture and being engulfed by the emotions that came from my realizations as to what a scientific experiment begat, my mind turned to so many other aspects of science that arise from the hubris of man. I sat in front of this sculpture for almost an hour, lost in thought and listening to the dead. I marveled at how low key this monument to the birth of the nuclear age appeared. The various young men and women never gave it a second glance. They just walked on to their next class, trying to grab a Starbucks, lost in thought and never thinking about what started over 60 years before on this very spot.

My later research uncovered more information on Fermi's team. Apparently, they conducted the experiment in absolute secrecy not knowing if they would blow up Chicago in the process. Some of the team members succumbed to radiation poisoning later in life, but Fermi went on to Los Alamos to continue his work on the Bomb. The labs were all underground beneath some old tennis courts within Stagg Field. The nuclear era, in all of its glory, sprang forth from this unassuming patch of land in northern Illinois, along the shores of Lake Michigan.

I would like to think that we, as a species, have learned the lessons of our hubris.

I stole the first line of this post from You'll Never Eat Lunch in This town Again, by Julia Phillips. This has been a part of Grace's Stolen Lines series.

A Review of "He's Just Not That Into You" starring the Namby Pamby and the Alleged Lady.

Today was a normal day of drudgery at the firm. I was knee deep in deposition statements trying to put together a carefully annotated statement of facts for a summary judgment answer. I was also fact and cite checking another brief for a patent interference (where 2 inventors claim that they have invented the same invention, to be decided by the Board of Patent Appeals and Interferences at the USPTO). It was NOT looking like a sunny, funny day. And then...an e-mail from the Alleged Lady popped up asking us bloggers if anyone wanted to go to an evening showing of the chick flick du jour, "He's Just Not That Into You." Now, I was familiar with the source material of the film. I remember the episode of Sex and the City when Berger (Ron Livingston) enlightened the ladies as to how they needed to stop reading into guys reactions, responses and words in an effort to explain away boorish behavior. If memory serves, Miranda was the one who was trying to justify why a guy had not called her back, and while her friends were trying to make her feel better about herself, Berger broke in with "maybe he's just not that into you." It was as if a light bulb went off. Of course, later in the run, Berger became infamous as the man who broke up with Carrie via post it note (a precursor to today's text message and Facebook break ups), but still, women everywhere talked about that episode. The book provided a chapter-by-chapter breakdown of the boorish behavior that men resorted to in order to not call women or to break up with women they were not that into. I remember being bemused by the book, as I could recognize certain proclivities that I might have had as a teenager, maybe, but SURELY today's women could NOT be so naive as to fall for these tricks from all loser men out there. Surely guys were more mature than THIS when they dealt with the opposite sex.

Talk about naive. That would be me.

The more I spoke with my female friends (I have a lot of them), the more I realized that both sexes bore some of the blame. Women want to see the best in the worst of male specimens while ignoring lesser (but better) specimens around them. In contrast, too many men saw women as disposable playthings and tended to realize, too late, that they might have had something real. Ick. These boors were messing with women's minds to the point where women reacted with doubt whenever they were face to face with a good guy. Demystifying the guy mystique for women (here's the secret-there IS no guy mystique-we are pretty simple creatures, actually) would do a world of good.

So here it was, a long Tuesday at work, when the Alleged Lady laid out plans for an evening viewing of the film. Closet (or not so closet) chick flick fan the Namby Pamby and I were the only ones who chose to accompany the Lady (Alleged, that is). We decided to meet for a 7:15 show in downtown Chicago. Upon arriving at the theater (I was the first one), I noticed that there were a LOT of women at the theater...I mean, a LOT. Not only were the numbers startling-I also noticed that most of them were outfitted in couture (yes, I know what that is). It was then that I noticed that there was a special advanced screening of "Confessions of a Shopoholic" in the same theater complex as "He's Just Not That Into You." The estrogen levels at this complex were noticeably high. Namby soon arrived, and we marveled at the waves of impeccably dressed females marching up the escalators. It was actually kind of surreal. Finally, Alleged Lady (sans couture) arrived, and the three of us proceeded upstairs to purchase our tickets and watch the film. Having arrived at the actual theater a little late, we were forced to sit about 4 rows from the screen (something that would prove amusing later on). We settled in with some popcorn and sodas (sorry, Alleged Lady, with popcorn and COKES) and sat back to watch the film.

Without going into spoilers, the film played as a more modern version (from the female perspective) of the 1960s era sex comedy "A Guide for the Married Man". Different stories were interwoven that followed a group of acquaintances in Baltimore (with some fun "I used to live there!" flashbacks for me, a Maryland PhD). You had the woman who desperately wanted to be in a relationship but was bad about figuring it out, the male mentor who took pity on her but then ended up falling for her, a couple where the man was adamant about not being married and his girlfriend of 7 years who wanted the ring, the married couple where the wife was frigid and the husband cheated (although he struggled with the decision for...like...15 minutes or so), the safe guy hung up on a girl who used him whenever her own self esteem was down, and a woman who was so withdrawn from the personal aspects of dating that she resorted to text messages and MySpace connections in order to meet the dregs of male society. In spite of the archetypes and predictability of the endings, I liked the film. It was a thoroughly enjoyable romantic comedy that rang true (and was cringe worthy during several scenes) because the situations depicted on the screen were real. These kinds of scenes are wonderful in that they are ones we see in real life (well, except for several of the "Hollywood Ending" scenes near the end of the film). If anything, the film points out that everyone suffers from the same issues in relationships and that we should not feel bad for failing NOR should we give up. A happy resolution is not such a bad thing (I was gonna say "happy ending", but that has SUCH an X-rated connotation nowadays).

So what about my movie going companions. Well, the first question likely will be "where the hell was Daisy, and without Daisy, who would comment on the men of the film?" Well, Daisy promised her mom that they would see this film together this weekend, so she passed. The second question would likely be "were Namby Pamby and Alleged Lady good film companions?" Yes, decidedly so. Not only were they into the film, they also made pithy observations several times throughout. Namby's comments lit up the entire theater. Oh wait...no...that bright light was coming from his iPhone as he proceeded to check his messages every 5 minutes or so. Darn those phones are bright. The only reprieve I had was when, during a quiet moment in the film, Namby proceeded to DROP the phone (with a loud clatter) onto the floor of the theater. The Alleged Lady was far more entertaining. Remember how I said that we were sitting 4 rows from the front? Well, imagine if you are sitting that close when the images of Bradley Cooper and Scarlett Johansson's breasts are on the screen (no nudity, but still). Whenever Bradley Cooper appeared, Alleged Lady would hungrily whisper "he is so hot-I can't look at the screen for so long." During one particular point, as Cooper's baby blues were staring directly out of the screen, the Alleged Lady buried her head into the chair and said "IT'S LIKE AN ECLIPSE-I CAN'T STARE AT IT FOR LONG OR ELSE I'LL GO BLIND!" She's so awesome.

At the end, Namby and I agreed on one thing. All men are jerks except for us!

Super Bowl XLIII and an update on Eve

I love it when I am right. It does not happen ALL that often (ok, maybe it does), but I really called it when I said I did not want to go to any Super Bowl parties. The Football Gods rewarded me with a game that could be considered one of the best ever. There were SO many twists and turns throughout the game, and it concluded with an AMAZING series of plays that will forever be remembered in the annals of NFL lore.

First Quarter: All Steelers. Roethlisberger led his team on a long offensive drive that consumed much of the first quarter. Although the Steelers ended up with a mere three points, the tone had been set. The Cardinals defense did not appear to be prepared to stop the Steelers, and I thought the Steelers were going to win this going away. The Cardinals had a single three and out during the entire first quarter and were not seen again until the second quarter. I was thinking that the Cardinals would not be able to score with their stars on the sidelines.

Second Quarter: Steelers score a touchdown on another clock eating drive and went up 10-0. I was ready to become disgusted and turn it off. It was then that some magic started happening. In less that 6 minutes, Kurt Warner led his team on an 83 yard TD drive. The Cardinals defense then held and the runback after the ensuing punt was run back into Steelers territory. With plenty of time left before the half, Warner then led his team to the brink of yet another score. On the threshold of going up 14-10 before the half, we, the audience, were treated to the longest play in Super Bowl history. Defensive Player of the Year, James Harrison, dropped into coverage and intercepted Warner's pass in the end zone. He proceeded (with the help of several illegal, if uncalled by the zebras, blocks by his teammates) to run the ball back 100 yards (!) and score a TD (he was actually tackled before the ball crossed the plane by Larry Fitzgerald-another bad call), the Steelers entered the locker room ahead by 10 points. Now, what I did not see anyone comment on is Fitzgerald's never-say-die attitude on this play. On the play, Fitzgerald had been headed in the opposite direction and was a good 10 yards downfield from Harrison at the time he realized that Warner had been picked. Fitzgerald, deep in his own end zone, turned on the jets and gave chase, weaving his way through Steeler defenders and caught Harrison BEFORE HE CROSSED THE GOAL LINE. A lot of other offensive players would have given up, but Fitzgerald did not. Although he had been a non-factor in the game to that point, he showed his mettle. At half time, it looked like the Cardinals were toast.

Halftime: GO BRUCE

3rd quarter: Only 1 score: Steelers score again-3 points. 8 minute drive. The score was 20-7, a 13 point deficit. I started paying more attention to the commercials and started feeling bad for Kurt Warner. He should not have ended his career like this....

4th quarter: the best 4th quarter I have watched in a LONG time. Larry Fitzgerald is ALIVE; Warner goes into a no huddle and does not give the Steelers defense time to adjust. He proceeded to pick apart the Steelers' #1 rated defense with pinpoint accurate pass and a jump ball to Fitzgerald in the corner of the end zone. The score is 20-14...hmm...interesting... 2 quick series by the Steelers and the Cardinals, and the Cardinals pin the Steelers on their 2 yard line (pushed back to the 1 yard line thanks to the thuggish actions of James Harrison-he should have been ejected for throwing punches at a guy who was down on the ground-classy). Steelers appear to escape (NO!) but then the refs FINALLY get a call right and call holding on a Steelers lineman in the end zone. Folks, that means SAFETY. The score was now 20-16 (with the Cards still needing a TD for the go ahead score). So following a safety, the opposing team has to free kick the ball to the other side. The Steelers punt to the Cards, and there was NO return. Warner went back to work. Right before one play, Madden pointed out how far back the safeties were playing to take away the deep pass (very conservative on the part of the Steelers). Madden noted that all Warner had to do was use the center of the field and the Cardinals would continue to have success. Sure enough, on the next play, Warner found Fitzgerald, who turned on the jets and outraced the entire Steelers secondary into the endzone. TOUCHDOWN! Cards are ahead!!! End of story, right? Wrong. See, The Cardinals had left too much time on the clock, Warner knew it. He had been in this situation before in Super Bowl XXXVI, when Brady came back and won the game. While his teammates were celebrating, Warner (with good reason) had a sick look on his face. Roethlisberger and wideout Santonio Holmes proceeded to put on a passing clinic, with Big Ben finding Holmes in the back of the end zone with less than 40 seconds left for the go ahead TD-and WHAT A CATCH! Tiptoe, complete control, while being defended by 3 Cardinals. Wow....

This was one for the ages folks. I have serious doubts as to whether the Steelers would have won without the generous calls they received from the zebras, but that is neither here nor there. I thoroughly enjoyed the game, and I had the best seat in the house for it. God bless high definition and Dolby Digital 5.1! I even rewound and re-watched certain plays as they happened thanks to the magic of DVR.

Yeah...still no Super Bowl parties for me next year...nope.


On another note, my friend Eve is doing well. She is getting the best treatment at one of the top medical institutions in the world. On a happier note, Wally proposed to her. The sad thing is that Wally proposed in the shadow of Eve's medical hardship. The cool thing is that he had the ring for a while. He had intended to propose well before this, and by timing it just right, she knows exactly what she has to live for. Congrats to both Eve and Wally. I cannot wait for the wedding-it will be a blast!

I Don't Do Super Bowl Parties

For the most part, I do not enjoy parties at all. I have a bad habit of committing to things and then, as soon as I do so, I try everything in my power to get out of them. Being a patent attorney helps in these situations, as there is always some deadline that I actually have to meet. Usually, however, these deadlines occur during weekdays, so I am stuck with the weekend get togethers. Or am I?

Since I purchased my condo, I have had a lot of people over to see it and to hang out. This is making up for a lot of lost time, for when I lived at my old place, I hardly ever had people over. I lived in a small "garden apartment", i.e., the basement of a house. The ceilings were low, and there never seemed to be enough room for me let alone anyone else. I hated (HATED) the bathroom. It was a tiny closet compared to what I have now.

So upon moving to my condo, I started invited people over. It seemed like the right thing to do. After all, they had always been so kind because they always invited me over to their places when I did not have the ability to reciprocate. Now, however, most of the people that I would have over have BEEN over. I am over the whole "have a gathering at my house" bug, especially after the last one where 2 of my expensive wine glasses were shattered.

That still leaves me with the problem of not having to attend other people's gatherings. My M.O. usually is to start out "out of sorts" and to fade into the background of gatherings to listen to what other people say. I then find an opening and join in the conversation. At the same time, my desire to go out has diminished greatly within these last few months because I LOVE being at home. It is all MINE. I love it. I spend so much time at work that I hardly ever get to spend a lot of quality time at home. I have no roommates, and my neighborhood is QUIET. My place is clean (well, most of the time...there is usually some sort of clutter), and I love the solitude. I am flattered that people invite me to gatherings, but nowadays it takes something special (such as the Chicago visit of Katie from Overflowing Brain) to make me want to "emerge from my cave", so to speak.

What does this have to do with anything? Well, this weekend is the Super Bowl. This weekend is the last real fun party weekend for another month (Oscars parties). Everyone gathers to watch the commercials and the big game. The spectacle is the thing, and the Super Bowl has become the champion among sports championships. A one-off winner take all in professional sports. No best of seven series. No arbitrary selection of participants (hello, BCS). No-this is The Game. People plan for their Super Bowl parties. They have mounds of food, lots to drink, and lots of guests.

I hate it all except for the game.

Since the 1996 game (Packers/Patriots), I have only attended 2 Super Bowl parties. I did not have a great time at either one of them. Why? Because there were a lot of non-football fans gathered who were inconsiderate of those of us who live and die by the happenings of the NFL. These are the people who insist on socializing and talking during the game itself yet have the temerity to "Shuuush" people when the freaking COMMERCIALS are on.

WTF??????????

Now, since that 1996 game, I paid attention to how much fun I had during Super Bowls. I have found that 80% of the time, I really enjoyed the Super Bowls. That means 8 out of 10 times, I had a good time. Can you guess the 2 times where I wished I was by myself? Yup. Those would be the Super Bowl parties. I have fond memories of:

1) John Elway and Terrell Davis willing the Broncos to victory against a Packers team to whom everyone had essentially awarded the championship. It was a knock down drag out fight. I remember Davis leaving with a migraine during the 2nd quarter, in incredible pain. I remember how the Broncos looked vulnerable. I then remember Davis' triumphant return during the second half and how he kept pounding at the Packer defensive line until they were too tired to stand. It was one of the closest Super Bowls of the previous 14 years, and it was the first time in 14 years that an AFC stood triumphant over an NFC team. It was the saving of the legacy of John Elway, a player I despised (but I still had to respect his tenacity).

2) John Elway's MVP performance in the next Super Bowl and how he retired soon after. This game was not as close, but it was a lot of fun to watch.

3) The Greatest Show On Turf (the Rams offense) led by a former grocery store shelf stocker versus the hard hitting Tennessee Titans of Eddie George and Steve "Air" McNair. I remember the Titans being down by 10 points and then rallying to tie it up with 2:12 left and the announcing talking Overtime. I remember Kurt Warner (the aforementioned store stocker) unleashing a 73 yard bomb on the next possession that found a home in the waiting arms of the speedy Isaac Bruce to put the Rams ahead again. I also remember an incredible drive by the Titans, one which featured an amazing escape from a surefire sack by the fleet-footed Steve McNair. I remember his pass to Kevin Dyson and how Dyson was stopped one foot short of the goal line on the last play of the game. Sigh...THAT, my friends, is a Super Bowl.

4) The 2000 Super Bowl featured my Ravens and was one of the 2 parties I attended within the last 10 years. It was a church party in Baltimore, and my friends had strong armed me into attending. It was all right, but the truth is, very little of the game has stayed with me. I blame the party.

5) My first Super Bowl in Chicago was spent watching the Patriots versus the Rams. A little known QB named Tom Brady led the Patriots to a 20-17 win against a Rams team that was a heavy favorite. I saw Kurt Warner rally his team and tie it up. I also saw a cool and composed Brady go under center with less than 2 minutes left and drive towards field goal range. I remember Adam Vinatieri drilling the field goal that won the Patriots their first of 3 titles this decade. I also remember that Super Bowl as the one that had U2 as the halftime show, the Super Bowl post 9/11. It was amazing and completely memorable WITHOUT a party.

6) The storyline for the 2002 Super Bowl was Jon Gruden versus his old team, the Oakland Raiders. Gruden knew that offense like no one did, and he spent the week preparing his team to face the Raiders. It was not even close, as Rich Gannon broke the Super Bowl record for interceptions in the face of the Buccaneers relentless pass defense. In his first year in Tampa Bay, fortune had smiled on Gruden by giving him the Raiders as an opponent. Would the Bucs have had such an easy time with another AFC team? One wonders. This Super Bowl was also the first one that I watched on my then-new 42 inch widescreen TV. I had the best seat in the house-on my sofa watching the game. Awesome.

7) The 2003 and 2007 Super Bowls are the most memorable in my book. 2003 featured the return of Tom Brady and the Patriots facing a team that had entered the league a mere 8 years prior to that. The Panthers had ridden Stephen Davis, their powerful running back, to the Super Bowl. Indeed, the Panthers were seen as a one trick pony. No one thought that Jake Delhomme, the former back-up in New Orleans, could lead a team if it came down to a shootout. I distinctly remember watching the first half; the Patriots stopped Davis, and the Panthers looked as if they did not belong. I saw the frustration building on Delhomme's face, as it looked as it he was wilting under the hot lights of the Super Bowl. Ahh....but when the second half started, Delhomme started leading his team. I witnessed this quarterback, who as much as anyone relied on the running of Davis, carry his team on his back with his leadership in the huddle and his AMAZING passes. The second half turned into a shoot-out, with Brady and Delhomme trading TD passes. With less than 2 minutes left, Delhomme tied up the score with a long bomb to Mohammed. If not for an errant kickoff by John Kasey, the Panthers normally surefire kicker, Vinatieri might not have been able to kick his second Super Bow game winner. It was an exciting game, and I loved watching Delhomme's transformation on this stage. Magical.

8) New England versus Philadelphia was memorable only because of the fact that Philly really should have won the game. The reason that they lost? Poor conditioning on the part of Donovan McNabb. McNabb spent most of the 4th quarter dehydrated and slow. When the Eagles should have been in a hurry up, the tempo was slower than usual because McNabb was throwing up in the huddle and having a hard time catching his breath.

9) Pittsburgh v. Seattle: one of the WORST Super Bowls ever. The game looked as if there were 2 junior college teams duking it out, and the officiating was horrible, no doubt swayed by all of the terrible towels swirling in the stadium. A true yawner.

10) Indianapolis versus Chicago: the OPPOSITE of Jake Delhomme = Rex Grossman. When given the opportunity to help his team win, he actually handed the Colts the victory with his picks. Most of them were "what the heck was he thinking" throw. The Bears defense took away the big play for the most part save for one early long TD pass; they kept the game close. I always wondered what would have happened if Lovie Smith had benched Grossman during the 3rd quarter...

11) New England versus the New York Giants: wow-just wow. First of all, I DID attend a gathering of people at the behest of my friends. They were very kind in making sure that I had a great seat and even saved my spot for me. This game was remarkable because, once again, I saw a QB come of age. My respect for Eli Manning grew immensely that night, and where most parties had people talking and mixing, the 3rd and 4th quarter of THIS game was marked by people WATCHING THE GAME IN STUNNED SILENCE. It was magical. I am so fortunate to have watched the most amazing play in Super Bowl history unfold live. Manning surrounded by a blitzing Patriots defense...almost going down...staying upright and scrambling....finding David Tyree down the center of the field....unleashing a missile that was WAAAY over Tyree's head, and Tyree's amazing leap....Tyree keeping the ball glued to his helmet as Rodney Harrison tried to wrest control of the ball away from him on the way down. Catch. Wow. Manning led his team winning score with less than a minute left. Not enough time for Brady, who had been PUNISHED all day by the Patriots defense. An amazing game. A unique situation.

So out of these last 11 games, I have been to 2 gatherings. I prefer to watch it on my own, taking in the coaching strategies, finding out clues from the coordinators, and dissecting the battle...er..GAME plan. It does not matter whether I have a rooting interest in a team-what I am looking for is that moment where a player makes the difference...Jermaine Lewis in 2000...Brady and Vinatieri in 2001...Delhomme in 2003...Manning in 2007...THOSE are the moments that I seek. I love to analyze these things WITHOUT distraction. And to all of you who say "football takes so long between plays that you can have conversation and not miss anything", I say that you are not real NFL fans. Call me one day when you, too, actually strategize when you play Madden on your gaming system. Let me know when you look at the chalk talk or if you wake up at 5 AM to watch the best NFL show on TV, the Edge NFL Match-up.

Until then, I can be found on my sofa, with a roaring fireplace beneath my NEW mammoth HDTV, immersed by Dolby Digital 5.1 and a 1080i picture with the best seat in the house.

Enjoy the game!

Things Happen That Take You By Surprise

I have a very good friend. Let's call her Eve. Eve and I became fast friends in law school. I remember the day that it happened. It was in Civil Procedure class. Our professor must have watched "Paper Chase" one too many times, for he fancied himself John Houseman. He would chose a different victim every class, and for that entire class, you were his bitch. It did not matter if you struggled or how long it took you to figure out his question-he stayed on you the entire time. We were all intimidated by this professor. The scary part was that we never knew who he was going to call on. Every day, those of us who he had not called on would wait with baited breath, for he would only put you on call once during the semester. Early on in the semester, it was open season. So many victims for him to chose from.

The first semester of law school is a scary time anyway. You are trying to figure so many things out, but you do not want anyone to figure out that you do not have any earthly idea what you are doing. You worry about being found out-about being proven an idiot in front of your peers to the point where they will point and whisper about you as you sit in the student lounge. Of course, what we failed to realize is that we ALL felt that way. When our Civ Pro professor had his victim, we all felt sorry for the victim because NO ONE knew the cases as he wanted us to. EVERYONE looked like an idiot, even the brightest among us.

Enter Eve. Eve was one of his first victims, and it happened early on in the semester. He had a field day with Eve, but she acquitted herself quite admirably-I daresay more than anyone else could have managed with the impossible case that day. I noticed Eve leaving class dejected-I knew that she must have felt awful in spite of the fact that she did relatively well. This was still early on in the semester when we did not know our classmates, but I took it upon myself to approach her and say: "you did really well in Civ Pro today-I doubt I could have even come up with ONE coherent answer, but you danced with the devil and beat him."

The look of gratitude that flooded over her face was one that I would never forget. Her self doubt was washed away, and in its place was a tentative confidence. She asked me "Do you REALLY think so?" I nodded "absolutely-everyone in the class was impressed-including me. Way to go."

I left it at that. A couple of days later I was in the library, studying the maligned case of "Pennoyer v. Neff." The best way to describe that case would be as a hazing ritual that Civ Pro professors put their students through. I was at a study carrel, and I noticed Eve walking toward me.

"Do YOU understand this case?" she asked.

"Nope," I answered. With that, we figured it out together. I found out a lot about her-how she came from a large family, how her boyfriend had a tough upbringing but was a whiz with complicated mathematics (think Good Will Hunting), how her parents were 20 years apart in age, and how she was almost wait listed from our law school. We became very good friends, and she was one of my first real friends that first year of law school. She and her boyfriend Wally came to my first giant law school party, and i immediately developed a mancrush on him-he was (and is) such a great guy. Eve ended up with one of the highest GPAs from our section after first year, and she was a shoo-in for law review. She was brilliant, but she always had time to help others. She went to school for public interest, but when she was offered a job with one of the top 50 firms in the WORLD (yes, the WORLD), she saw an opportunity to pay off her debt and save so that she could pursue pro bono work for the needy. She took the job and for the last 6 months, she has been succeeding at that.

Things were tough the last year of law school, for Eve's father was diagnosed with cancer. Eve spent many weekends in Minnesota with her family, visiting her father and comforting her Mom. Several times, Eve did not know if her time with her father would be her last. During all of this time, she still remained the same awesome, smart, sassy, sexy young woman who I considered as close to me as a little sister. I could talk to her about anything, and she could do the same with me.

After graduation, Wally and Eve moved in together in a fabulous apartment right in downtown Chicago. The two of us would get together on occasion for a quick lunch and to catch up on things. She still traveled on the weekends to see her Dad, who, thanks to a tragic setback, had to be put into a retirement nursing home. 2009 was shaping up to be an incredible year for Eve. This was the year that she would realize so many of her dreams. She was succeeding as an attorney at a top 50 firm, her relationship with her awesome boyfriend was going well, and she had her eyes on a goal.

This weekend, Eve was traveling back to the airport in Minnesota after having visited her parents. She was driving along the road and passed out at the wheel. She woke up to find herself in a ditch (I'll bet you thought this was going to end differently). Eve was confused as to what happened.

This evening, I was in Jewel doing some grocery shopping. Eve tried calling, but I was in a bad area for cell phone reception. She left a message, but I did not listen to it. I called her back as soon as I got to the car.

"Hi Eve!" I said. "How are you? Sorry about that. I had bad reception."

Eve: "That's OK...so, did you listen to my message?"

Me (still happy): "No, I figured I would just call you back. What's up"

Eve: "Well, I was calling my closest friends because I figured they should know..."

My heart sank. Oh no, I thought, Eve's dad died. I steeled myself for the bad news...and received even worse news.

Eve: "So I kind of have a brain tumor...."

Silence...what do you say when someone you care about tells you something like this? I immediately started asking questions, trying to figure out some way the doctors could be wrong and some way that this was all some sort of macabre joke.

It wasn't. Eve had a brain tumor. Best case scenario is full recovery. Worst case is that she dies, Somewhere in the middle are 2 other options: 1) they could remove the tumor, but since it is so close to the speech center of the brain, she would be rendered unable to speak for the rest of her life or 2) she could live with the tumor and live for another 10-15 years.

Goddamn it...SHE IS ONLY 26.....

All of a sudden, my own problems at work seem so small. All of a sudden, I felt the need to talk to my brother and my parents to remind them how much I love them. All of a sudden, I want to tell my friends how much I care for all of them. All of a sudden, I am wondering: Why her and not me...she is such a great person...this is NOT fair...

Eve seems to be in good spirits, but I am sad and worried. There are so many other things I am worried about tonight, this and one other thing that I will not speak about here (some of you know). Everything else can go to hell because everything else does not matter.

What matters is that my friend, a sweet young girl of 26 with her whole life ahead of her, has a brain tumor. And I will be damned if I am not there for her, Wally, and the rest of her family for whatever they need.