Evidently, some sick, twisted excuse for a human being has been selling fake baby formula to people in China. The result? The babies received zero nutrition and starved to death. I couldn't get past the first two paragraphs of this article on the train this morning.

I'm not going to cry about this. Really, that's what I keep telling myself at least.

The saddest detail of all, if you are not crying yet, the parents' mistook the fat cheeks for a sign of growth and health as opposed to a sign of starvation.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 07:24 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 105 words, total size 1 kb.

I guess everyone who reads newspapers is aware of the typical European government reaction when Israel assassinates a terrorist leader. The Europeans freak out and say that such extra-judicial actions are illegitimate and threaten the peace process. So, how is this for hypocrisy then:

"The German interior minister, Otto Schily, has expressed strong support for new measures, saying in recent interviews that the German police needed ways to deal with people who present what he called "a massive threat" to Germany.

Mr. Schily caused a stir when he told a German magazine, Der Spiegel, last week that in cases in which there was a direct danger of terrorism it should be possible to take a suspect into preventive custody, or, under extreme circumstances, to carry out assassinations.

"Is there not a right of self-defense against terrorists who plan mass murder?" he asked. "That leads to the question whether in extreme cases it is justified to kill that person in self-defense."

So, it's ok when Germans do it but not Israelis? By contrast to the state of affairs in Israel, I can't recall a single major terrorist action on German soil since the 1972 Olympics.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 07:19 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 206 words, total size 1 kb.

I actually got banned from leaving comments at a blog today. The woman who runs Sofiya the Grouch has decided, I guess, that I cannot post comments there anymore. She deleted the comments I left and banned my ass from ever darkening her comment boards again. I am sort of amused. She is, I gather, a graduate student in music school at U.T. Austin where one of her professors was allegedly killed by another student. I left a message of sympathy on her blog comments.

When next I tuned in, Sofiya posted the following concerning her reaction to the arrest. She said, if you don't want to follow the link, that she is sure the alleged killer is disturbed and she wants to interview all of his fellow students to present some sort of petition to show that the alleged wacko should not get the death penalty. Oh, and she wants to send him a care package.

Did you read the article above concerning the murder? The alleged killer used a meat cleaver to kill a woman with multiple sclerosis. That is absent from Sofiya's blog. Read her comment on this and you will be sure, as she is, that the alleged killer is being "vilified" and needs our help. So, I left a message on her comment board, as best as I can recall since she deleted it, to state that: one, the guy used a cleaver; two, she may not be in the best position to judge the guy's sanity; and, three, that she could easily muck up his defense by running around contaminating all of his witnesses and in doing so would be doing no favor for the guy.

She replied to my comment by noting that unless I know her personally I have no right to comment on her blog like this and she seriously doubts that she could do anything to gum up the system. That's as best as I can recall.

In any event, I replied to her that I had not been rude on my first comment but that contamination is an issue. Also, I figured that a blog is a public space and I could comment as I pleased. But, since she did not want to have anyone commenting who might disagree with her, I would refrain from doing so in the future. [Digression: I am a big believer that the remedy for speech with which you disagree is more speech, not banning the speech. It's a principal that has worked well for this country for a very long time].

So, I went back later to see if she had any reply and found that not only had my earlier comments been deleted, but I was now banned.

What have I learned from this? That if you consider yourself on the right side of an issue (here, death penalty), don't bother with facts (here, how the legal system works). It may be more important to do good (i.e., her investigation and petition), than to do right (refrain from f*cking things up for his attorneys). I gather that for Sofiya and her friends taking action is a comforting end in and of itself which will without question make them feel better about themselves. No room there for a messy discussion about whether it is the right thing to do. Nope.

How very odd. So much for civil discourse.

So, what are the rules for my comments' board? Well, I like lively discussions and hope to have some here. That said, I expect civil discourse. We're all adults here. Whatever happens, though, I highly doubt that I will ban someone for challenging my world view, however narrow my view may be.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 02:35 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 587 words, total size 4 kb.

I finally decided to tell my wife about my blog. I realized that I did not want to wall off a section of my life from her. Generally speaking, we (or at least I) don't keep secrets from each other. This was not a big secret but we've been married for 10 years and I decided I did not want to start now. So, last night, while we were getting ready to go to sleep, I told her about it. Her reaction surprised me. She was excited for me! She thought it was a great idea and she encouraged me.

Well, now she has actually read it. She said she liked it a lot and reminded me that the contraction of "its" takes an apostrophe when it is short for "it is". Duly noted.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 01:37 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 146 words, total size 1 kb.

I came across this article today and it put into words some of the amorphous feelings I have had lately after hearing about the shooting of the pregnant woman and her daughters in Israel. And the world remains silent Just why does it seem that no one is prepared to protest the shooting deaths of a pregnant woman and her four daughters? These people were shot, execution style, up close and personal. Some animal had to make a decision AFTER he saw them, to kill them. Where is the outrage in the European capitals? These great European humanists who fill the streets when Israel takes out the people who send these criminals to kill young women and children. Why does no one protest these deaths? Do you remember the young child who was shot in his bedroom, hiding under his bed after terrorists invaded his home? No one protested that death either. Instead, you see rallies in Gaza and the West Bank to celebrate this "triumph" and marches in Europe to press the Palestinian cause. Are we back to a place and time where Jewish lives count less? Is that the only conclusion we can reach? I think we all know that this is so in the Arab world in general where they want to push the Jews back into the sea. But is it the case once again in Europe, too? Sometimes, I just despair.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:00 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 238 words, total size 1 kb.

Well, its official. If I write about this, I cannot tell my friend, my co-worker, about this blog because it will chronicle one of his adventures in blind dating. Still, it may prove to be too delicious to keep to myself.

My friend, who I need to give a name to for this blog, shall be known herein as Buddy. Ever play Lacrosse? A buddy pass is something you don't throw to a buddy. It has a big looping arc which gives the other team time to arrive at your buddy's location at the same time the ball does and hammer your buddy. Having hooked my friend up once before with the dating equivalent of the buddy pass, I shall call him Buddy (or just B) for this adventure.

B is a clean cut, nice, funny, smart, well-dressed, conservative guy who works with me. I think a lot of him. I wish my sister had dated him instead of the dirt bags she seems to prefer.

B is single. Not that he doesn't try. He's just kind of a freak magnet. No, that's too strong. But, he generally gets the girl who, by way of example, has her mother as her best friend and tells her mother everything, including details of her sex life. Too much for B. And probably for most men. I mean, it sort of puts three in the bed with none of the advantages. B is in his early thirties and would like to meet a nice girl and settle down.

I have tried to help him by introducing him to some nice girls (one of whom turned out to be buddy pass girl, more on her later, perhaps). Why? I am happy in my marriage and would like to see B happy, too. Also, I probably have a small streak of yenta in me.

So, on to the new possibility. What to call her? How about Lass or L? She appears to be a sweet Irish lass. She may just be covering up her inner psycho, and don't we all, but time will tell. L is the same age as B. She is blond and I don't know much more about her. She seems very nice. She had a tattoo on her ankle. Normally, I don't care for that but on her it looked cute.

I met L on the train going home from work one night. We had a lovely conversation -- unusual but not unprecedented on the train -- occasioned by train problems and our relationship with the train service. During our chat, it came out that she was single and looking. So I asked whether she'd like to meet a nice young man and I described B to her. She replied, in words or substance, sure, why not? As she said, she had just told a complete stranger that she was single and had a less than fulfilling social life, so why wouldn't she be open to the possibility of a complete stranger introducing her to another complete stranger. So I gave her my email address and, to my surprise, she emailed me the next day.

At that point I asked B to join me in my office and to shut the door. I described the situation, the woman, and the setup. He did not think I was out of my mind for trying to pick up a girl for him on the train and was interested in having a drink with her.

We are getting together tomorrow night for drinks.

The stage is set.

Are you all interested in me reporting back on this as it develops? Or should I not bother?

(Spell check claims I got every word right, a first! Must be a mistake in the spell checker.)

Posted by: Random Penseur at 08:02 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 639 words, total size 3 kb.

There is a lot I cannot write about here concerning my job as an attorney. I am a repository for confidences and every time I mention anything to do with my work, I sanitize it the best I can. I make it more general to distill the point I'd like to make without compromising confidentiality. I'm going to be extra careful with this post. Yesterday someone suggested that if I was interested in taking on a fraud case, evidence could be found to support whatever proposition I needed to have supported to bring the lawsuit. I guess I'm naive. I was shocked. Still shocked, actually. Sure, I've had clients shade things in their favor every day. That's just a fact of life. Everybody shades things to put themselves in the best possible light. Indeed, there is an old legal truism that you never know the real story about what happened to your client until your client is being cross examined on the stand. But this was the first time anyone ever suggested to me that evidence could be, well, created or fabricated. I should note that I shut the conversation down immediately, told this person that I was not interested in their case, and that I'd return the documents they sent to me right away. I have very high moral standards and I am not about to compromise them by accepting a tainted representation. How the hell would I live with myself? I guess I had heard that stuff like this happens. You read about insurance frauds all the time. I just never thought it would come so close to me. And you know what the truly invidious thing is? The way it was put to me was so subtle and so nebulous that there isn't anything to report to anyone. Why? Because it was a matter of interpretation. I felt the message was clear but the person who made the statements to me could deny it. I feel as if I brushed up against something dirty. I need some fresh air.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 08:01 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 350 words, total size 2 kb.

I said yesterday I expected to appear before a judge who had not read my papers or prepared for oral argument. I anticipated writing today a very cynical post about the failures of the judicial system in NY State Courts. Happily, it didn't turn out that way.

This morning I was before a judge who was prepared, courteous, focused on the issues, asked targeted questions, was polite to counsel (most of the time), and decisive. It was a pleasure. I have no idea how he will rule on the motion to dismiss I put before him, but I am certain he will give the motion his proper attention. This was an example of how a court room should be run. In part, this may have been because we were in the Commercial Division of New York State Supreme Court, which only hears commercial disputes above $150,000. So, he's accustomed to hearing and deciding the special kinds of issues complex corporate litigation presents.

Today was really one of the best parts of my job. I love being at the sharp end of the stick, facing a skeptical judge who's asking hard questions as you try the best you can to respond to his or her questions and make your points and arguments. You feel totally alive because you are completely engaged, both intellectually and emotionally. It is exhilarating and leaves you pretty spent afterwards. The thing is, not only do you have to listen and respond, you have to judge how best to respond. In that, you are an actor. You modulate and change your tone of voice to emphasize points and to capture the interest of the judge. By the way you change your tone, if you do it right, you can silence the entire room. I did that today. I had everyone's attention. I could feel it, almost physically, when I took pauses in my argument. No question, oral advocacy rocks.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 01:19 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 340 words, total size 2 kb.

A quick note: I just called home to tell my wife what train I'd be taking and I spoke, briefly, to my daughter. I asked her if she was being a good girl for Mamma and she replied, "no, but I'm getting ready to be a good girl for the rest of the week."

I can't believe how well she already has me figured out. I think that kids are naturally manipulative.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 12:43 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 80 words, total size 1 kb.

I am at work today (Sunday) preparing to go to Court tomorrow morning and argue with a judge who probably has not read the papers I spent hours preparing -- more on that later, I think.

But yesterday, despite the hangover and because my wife's was much, much worse, I took my daughter out of the house for several hours in the afternoon so my wife could rest without interruption while the baby was napping.

We went to the beach, about 10 minutes drive from the house. There was practically no one there. When was the last time you were at an empty beach? It smelled of the sea. It was this iodine like decomposing rich smell. There were mussel shells all over the place. We came on a whim, so we were neither dressed for it nor in possession of toys. Still, I took off her shoes and rolled her jeans up to her knees and did the same with my pants and shoes. And off we marched. The sand was warm from the sun and went right between our toes. Then we hit the high water mark (and clearly the tide was out) and the sand there was wet and hard packed from the ocean rolling in and over it. That sand was a little cold. I stood there for about an hour watching my daughter run in and out of the waves as they rolled over her feet. She shrieked and shrieked with laughter. We threw sand at the water and I tried to show her how to skip rocks (doomed to failure, but still). The sun was strong on our heads -- it was over 80 f. It was a beautiful moment.

We sat on the steps leading down to the beach afterwards to let our feet dry so we could get the sand off and I picked her up and pulled her onto my lap. She was happy and I was happy.

Her hair smelled like sunshine and all was right with my world as we watched the waves roll in.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 11:03 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 358 words, total size 2 kb.

I use curse words all the time. Don't blame my mother. Partially, its a professional habit. All litagators swear and do so way too much. Partially, I spent a summer in China when I was 18 and when no one can understand what you saying on the street, the societal control over your language just disappears and you begin to express yourself in ways that are limited only by your imagination. That was a pretty salty time. Anyway, it took years before I could get over that kind of freedom. I'm better now.

Except when driving. Which leads me to the thought I've been kicking around. Maybe there is no such thing as bad language, maybe there is only language that is appropriate to a situation and inappropriate but no word is intrinsically bad. Even if I can't envision a situation in which certain racial epithets are ever appropriate doesn't mean I have it wrong here, since my imagination is limited. This, anyway, is what I am trying to teach my kids. Well, my daughter since the boy doesn't speak yet.

When we moved out to the suburbs, my daughter spent a lot of time with just me in the car because my wife was put on bed rest with the second pregnancy. So she heard a lot of language that maybe was not appropriate for her situation.

We were all in the car together, backing out of the driveway to take my daughter to the doctor for her two year check up when she said, "shit, fuck". Everyone in the car looked at me. Not her, me. So I told her, "Honey, those are daddy's car words and he only uses those while he's driving." "You can't use them until you are driving". Not bad words, just words that are inappropriate for a then 2 year old.

I'm told I also use those words when reading the NY Times and I've been asked to stop reading that paper around her.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 07:04 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 335 words, total size 2 kb.

Does anyone remember him? He died some years ago. Borge was a Danish Jew who, while a classically trained pianist and musician, made it big in the United States as a comedian and musician. He had impecable timing and was so funny without ever needing to joke about sex or use inappropriate langauge you had to explain to a child. I think that one of my favorite bits was the inflationnary language. To wit: you look wonderful tonight becomes you look two-derful three-night. Or, instead of I ate a tenderloin, I nined an elevenderloin. Or, he was a cap-eleven in the air five-ce. You kind of have to hear him to it but you get the idea.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 06:52 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 121 words, total size 1 kb.

Too. Much. Red. Wine. Still hurts. In bed by 12:30 and child up by 6:00. Even after coffee and other fluids, still hurts.

But it was worth it. My wife and I had an adult evening out. Men in tie and jackets and women dressed up, too. Just getting dressed up for dinner changes the whole tenor of the evening. You want to act better, enjoy sparkling conversations, be witty. It starts with the cocktail -- the Sidecar. Ever have one? You feel like the star of a 1920's film, all dinner jacket and cigarette holderish. This is a serious cocktail that, in the words of PG Wodehouse, slips its hand trustingly into yours like a little sister and ends up with you trying to explain yourself to the Magistrate. You don't notice how lethal it is until it is too late.

We had cocktails for about an hour or more. Then dinner. More conversation. Two bottles of Burgundy (Pommard, for those who care). It was heaven. Like we didn't even have kids. I had the Asparagus Vinaigrette followed by Blue Cheese encrusted steak. And more wine. And espresso. Dinner lasted another 2 1/2 hours. More conversation. Home to bed for mildly drunken adult entertainment.

Then, 6:00, "Dada, I need to go to the potty". And the real world returns. Only, this time with a hangover.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 10:51 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 230 words, total size 1 kb.