Law School Rules!!!

I don't know if any of you remember, but there was a Calvin and Hobbes strip where Calvin is playing with his toys. He pretends that a farmer is having his meal in the house while a derailed train was coming his way along with an oil tanker and a commercial jet crashing down towards his house.

This past July, I attended a wedding. I accompanied the maid of honor. Her older sister was getting married. As soon as alcohol was served, the firing squad not too dissimilar from one that you might find in a movie set in a North African French penal colony appeared. And I knew it would happen. Three aunts armed to the teeth with questions and vino, hasta el culo. That is, wine filled to the brim of the glass.

So, how did you two meet? It starts with the innocuous, but don't be mistaken. The next question goes for the jugular: What do you do? I foxtrot around the question and answer grad school. But they already know the answer. After a couple of coy attempts, I give in and intentionally step on their collective toes. I admit to law school. And the next obvious question comes...

What kind of law? I have but one response. I want to sue people. Doctors, companies, your neighbor, and his pooch, if I could. And I look around just to make sure there are still enough people in the room to start my own hospital. The maid of honor, my date, is about to begin her medical school. The bride is a dietitian, the groom, physician's assistant with a budding medical devices business of his own. Two brothers are a pharmacist and physical therapist. And the mother is a nurse. My dinner table included a psychiatrist, nurses, and more dietitians. And with that answer, the firing squad dissipates with no more ammo. I win.

But that night, I got to be thinking, we the law students can not be the only obnoxious jerks nobody wants to be around. Granted, I could have said, I'd like to help the wrongfully injured and help them and their families recover from their trauma. But who do I think I'm kidding? Besides, I had already given them an easy out... grad school.

I'll let you draw your own conclusion, but I think we're alright. I know, I've said in these pages that we're a bunch of jerks. But let's for a moment consider our nearest competitions in the field of the over-educated and self-important people--the med students, b-school kids, and the social workers. To facilitate this, I've considered six separate categories--years of mastering the subject, methods of evaluation while going to school, types of career available, extracurricular activities that you might enjoy as a professional, the jargons you'd likely use, and the expected income coming out of school.

1. Law
School - 3 years as a student, then 5 years as a highly paid peon. If you're not highly paid, then you're either suing someone, putting people in jail, or keeping people out of jail.
Evaluation - Once a semester heart attack inducing exams that are curved. A is good, B is bad, and C, well, I see an MBA in your future.
Career Path - Anything and everything except for being a doctor and social worker.
Extracurricular Activities - Heart attack, divorce, being hated by everyone until you become so good at lawyering that now they want you to be the town selectman, golf, fine linen, drinking.
Jargons - Reasonable, stipulation, any verb ending in -ee or -nt, or other rather common words that get twisted around, and if you are really pompous, antiquated Latin phrases.
Income - $28-150k depending on how much you are willing to be beat up by your boss.

2. Medicine
School - 4 years as a student, 2 more years as an overworked and underpaid TA, then depending on the specialization, more school, more degrees, and who knows what else.
Evaluation - Regular quizzes, exams, and other more undergrad like exams plus all day long dissect and identify while smelling various intoxicating organic solvents possession of which would have gotten you kicked out of high school. Fail, pass, and high pass. At least law school doesn't have the nonsensical "high pass." And you thought FPS was bad...
Career Path - Doctor, TV doctor, hospital administrator (ever wonder why the hospitals get sued so much? should have hired an MBA), social worker.
Extracurricular Activities - Avoiding general public, avoiding things that are fun in life like eating butter, telling people what not to do, hating lawyers until sued, getting sued, golf, telling everyone bad news but still being liked by everyone, getting sued for not telling enough bad news in a way that the patient would understand.
Jargons - C1-C4 (neck), Inferior angle of Scapula (the pointy part of your shoulder blade), thorax (who cares, it just sounds cool), other incomprehensible terms for parts of your body otherwise commonly understood by everyone in public, having awful handwriting, and other chemical nonsense that might get you high or killed.
Income - The more you have to be on the ball, likely the less you make, such as ER doctors. The more likely be the subject of Fox Network SitCom, the more you'll make, such as dermatologists and plastic surgeons. By the way, does anyone really know what the dermatologists do? You know they are all Ph. Ds and the most successful students from their med school. Some things are the same in every field. It's worth being a good student.

3. Business
School - 2 years attending various cocktail functions.
Evaluation - Various group projects and sometimes tests.
Career Path - Banker, Consultant, career CEO path. Newest youngest General Manager for the Tampa Bay Devil Rays. Apparently not hospital management. You're fired.
Extracurricular Activities - Believing in all the nonsensical things you say that you don't even know what they mean, golf, getting sued and letting your shareholder pay for it, firing at will, high profile divorces.
Jargons - Value. Value. Value. Marginalization, incentivization, and all the other made up fuzzy words, especially ending in -ize or -ization. HBS.
Income - Corporate Drone - $60-80k; Nonprofit organization director - $45-120k; McKensie Consultant - $135k minus whatever you value your dignity; MLB Team General Manger - Who cares about money when you have an unlimited power over your childhood heroes.

4. Social Work
School - 2 years talking about things and feelings.
Evaluation - I don't know. Let's talk about it.
Career Path - Helping people who are in trouble such as failed law, business, and medical school students, or even the successful ones with substance dependency problems.
Extracurricular Activities - Talking about their horrible work and the feelings it generates with other social workers over a jug of white zinfandel. If it takes place in Mexico, all the better.
Jargons - Let's talk about how you really feel about this.
Income - Money was never the object. But really, how do you feel about it?

Closer to Fine - 10 Reasons to Skip Law Classes

The spring is here. Sun is out, your steps get lighter, clothes skimpier. You can here Vivaldi playing in the back of your head. School be damned, I will not be a slave to the outdated institution! But some of you are timid and perhaps needs a reason to put your life above law school once in a while. In hope to provide you with an excuse, I will share with you 10 reasons why I skipped a class or two here and there in the past two years.

10. Sports Championships. When the Red Sox won the World Series last year, those who were out rooting for the team did not make it to the 8am class the next day. Later I was told that the professor tried to congratulate us in class only to find out that none of us were in class. Now, if only the Tigers would turn it around...

9. Spring Training. To make sure that the spring training started on the day that it said it would, I went up to a bar and had a beer and watched ESPN. Soon I realized, school was far away from the bar, so I opted for a second beer instead.

8. Acronyms. Any class in this law school whose name is readily reduced to an acronym is worth skipping any day, any time. Come on. Think about it. You know I'm right.

7. Lost. To walk off some of the somnolent effects of a large lunch, I set out to walk around the business building and law school building, as I often do. Next thing I knew, I found myself in some corner of campus I have never been to. I decided that I was lost and didn't return.

6. Bed. The alarm rang. I knew I had two choices. I can either sleep in my own bed comfortably, or fall asleep in classroom uncomfortably. There was no competition.

5. Law School. Even if you are a 1L, you've gone through the exams once. And no matter how you cut it, you know it, I know it, and every lawyer knows it. You are going to teach yourself the entire class five days before the exam. And any note you took in class isn't likely to be comprehensible. In a way, each time I skip a class or decide that playing minesweeper without using the warning flags is far more interesting than the class, this excuse gets invoked. Naturally, this is my go-to excuse.

4. Play Ball. OK. I must admit, this wasn't my excuse for I was not offered the ticket. But day games are a thing of rare beauty nowadays. If a day game happens to fall on a school day... well, it's time to go to a ball game. Beer, hot dogs, peanuts, baseball. If that does not move you, I'd check with a doctor to see if you have a heartbeat left in you.

3. Apparently I Was Being Sick Outside. Apparently Greg Maddux still gets excited about playing catch. Who am I to argue? I went out with a group of friends to toss a baseball around. Turns out, I was the only jerk with a class then. I can't let my friends down like that so I took one for the team. On the way in, the professor saw me walk in with a ball and a glove in my hand. He looked at me cross-eyed. I replied to him - "apparently I was being sick outside." Anyway, the class I skipped was CORE - see #8.

2. Date. On the first sunny day of this spring, I asked a nice young lady with a pair of unusually bright eyes to skip her work and accompany me on a date. To my utter surprise, she complied. I was in the middle of a class, just been called on to brief a case. I finished it, and as the professor was explaining the rule of the case, I packed up and left to go play on a set of swings and walk around Little Italy.

1. Life. Look. You might live 75 years on average. You've already lived a third of that. That's 50 more first sunny spring days left in you. Between working full time and maybe having a family, at least half of that is wasted in dealing with those "adult" things. You might lose another 5-10 of those first sunny spring days due to your senility. That gives you about 15 first sunny spring days to enjoy in full glory. Live it up a little.

Closer to Fine - On NBA Dress Code

I have a love-hate relationship with dress codes, as I seem to do with many things. I think my love-hate relationship with dress codes rank in its intensity just below that with Boston, which tops the chart. I lived with some form of a dress code ever since I started school. I don't really mean the public school type dress code or work place dress code, or even a uniform. I mean a dress code designed purely to make you look like a gentleman or to keep stores like J Crew in business.
Just so, a short while week ago, the NBA (National Basketball Association) instituted a dress code for the players. According to the sports pundits, the NBA wanted to achieve a sense of respect. The league wanted to get away from the "hip-hop" image and perception of violence and thuggery. Whatever the reasons are, I can tell you, this dress code thing will make the league look even sillier.
The NBA is not the only sporting body who thought of these silly rules for looking "nicer." A few years ago, a group of German legislators suggested to the German soccer league that the league ought to ban the players from spitting during a match. Some people thought it was disgusting. Most Germans surprisingly thought it was idiotic and the proposal fell flat on its face. I was just glad to see that the U.S. Congress isn't the only overpaid nutjobs turned politicians.
Even sillier, the president of FIFA (Fédération Internationale de Football Association) once suggested that women players ought to wear more revealing and form-fitting clothes to promote women's soccer. When criticized of being sexist, the Swiss defended his statement by saying that he only wanted the fairer sex to be complemented. Silly me, the whole time I thought the point of sports was the whole anima sana in corpore sano - a sound mind in a sound body. These wily Europeans are making the NBA look really good, huh?
So, the dress code. You see, dress code is a funny thing. In fact, I am not so sure why I had all these dress codes. I just sort of equated prep schools with dress codes, but was never given a reason for one as a student or a teacher. Also, dress code makes people follow only the letters of the rule and never the spirit of it. What do I mean? Allow me to demonstrate...
Where I taught, at all times, the students and the teachers had to wear shirt and tie or a turtleneck. No jeans were allowed unless it was the last Friday of the month. Between Thanksgiving and Spring Break, you had to wear a jacket, and you could not wear shorts. When you were allowed to wear shorts, the shorts could not be shorter than bermuda length shorts.
By the way, does anybody know what that means? How long is bermuda length? And why are we worried about boys wanting to wear short shorts, anyway? We have bullies for that reason -- to make sure a 14-year-old boy could not get away with wearing ridiculously short shorts. This is one of life's greatest mystery to me still...
Another is the jacket requirement. Sports coat is what they really mean, but the code did not say that to allow kids to wear their winter coat and get away with not wearing a sports coat when it is really cold. But what the jacket requirement really does is for kids to go find their grandfathers' smoking jackets (I know... isn't it obnoxious that they have grandpa who has a smoking jacket?) or other equally hideously ugly jackets and wear them to school. There is no accounting for the "taste" factor, as the NBA will ruefully find out this upcoming season.
Then there is the logos restriction. You could not wear anything with "large" letters on the shirt or sweater... or anywhere, really. College sweatshirts were out, unless you were a senior who is committed to be going to that school, or you were wearing the school sweatshirt. Monogramed shirts were ok since the letters were "discrete." Varsity letter jackets, of course. Designer clothes with "loud" designs? No go.
It is an eternal battle. As a student, I wanted to know how far I could push. Ripped khakis (depending on how and where), shoes with holes (ok), pants with paint stains (ok), plaid pants (come on... of course), even crazier jackets (mostly ok). I never liked baseball caps, but since they told me I couldn't wear it indoors, I started wearing one (not ok at all -- got me into a fight with the Biology teacher who was the biggest jerk). Yeah, you name it, I've done it. I even wore a skirt (very ok apparently), not a kilt (very very ok) mind you, to school a few times, just to stick it to them. And my students were no different. And the players will be no different.
Let's think about this. First, the players even when you have to wear a jacket have a bevy of options to choose from to look "hip-hop" if they so wished. Second, you can dress up these 8 feet tall freaks of nature in whatever suit you want, they'd still look funny, you know? Third, have you ever seen the God Father? Or the Goodfellas? I mean, you can look pretty darn thuggish while looking "good."
And finally, if I learned anything from watching professional sports in three different Continents, it is that these athletes really are not very shy looking like clowns or caricatures. David Beckham's hair, Alexi Lalas' beard, Allan Iverson's tattoos, Bronson Arroyo's cornrows, Shaq's movies... I mean, the list goes on. They seem to live the whole bored and eccentric millionaire attitude very well. So, what good is this dress code really going to serve other than to piss off the players?
On second thought though, it would be pretty amusing to see Tim Duncan with a madras jacket, wouldn't you agree? I think I will send him mine...

NYC

He's gone like the water down to NYC, sleeping on a 802 along this river running down, he's gone like the water down to NYC... yes, I am in NYC.

The price of sin in this town is high. Booze, tobacco (I just paid 7.50 for a pack of smokes), taxi (better than Boston, I think, but still... faced with the 2 dollar option of taking the train), you name it.

Today was a good day. I woke up with no illusions about life. Whatever that means. I saw two good friends of mine.

I told Dale that cops (law enforcement in general) deserved the bad rap they get around the country. He offered me a fishing trip. I've never been fishing. I want to feel like it would be a good reprieve from my life. However I meant that. We lounged around in Washington Square. The last time I was there, I was a sophomore in college.

I ate at this progressive Korean restaurant with Suzanne, then to a bar. We affirmed each other we missed each other. I told Suzanne that I had not yet been bit by a bug this summer, but on my way back to my sister's apartment, I discovered a bug bite on my calf. The hours I spent with her, I feel now like I've lied to her.

Red suitcase she'll never miss, a leather coat he used to wear.

Futility of the "Game"

I joined the ranks of the singles bar scene very recently. I don't mean that I've just now become a single person, but that I am actually being socially active at meeting strangers at bars and other public places. The last time I was "in" it, it was about five and a half years ago when "party like it's 1999" meant something slightly more. Being just one good dice roll away from skipping the Park Place and Boardwalk to collect 200 dollars and turn 28, thereby scribing my status as late 20s on a cement block, joining the scene has an entirely different feel to it.

After a couple of near misses at removing myself permanently from the block, it is far easier to see that the "game" is silly for the most part -- I've accepted with some fondness my flaws. Yes, we watched the Swingers as youngsters -- I own the damn movie. When we were younger, we played the game because we didn't know better why. We just knew it worked better that way. There were reasons like trying not to seem too eager but to seem confident, to make the other person yearn for you.

Then you do it for a while, and you have a more sophisticated understanding of the game, like it's a social courtesy in providing some breathing room. And even as I just said the game is silly, they are still true... mostly because we let it be true.

And all we are doing is to create a make-believe person for each other, while real person is still behind that phone and the fancy clothes you'd be putting on for the second date. The real problem is, it starts with the assumptions we are all making about people and their reactions. That somehow waiting or being made to wait a few days means all the things I've said. Not true.

You've all met someone whom you really liked at first meeting, enough to want to see him/her one more time to see if that tingle can be repeated. You've all gone to your best friends house because you hate waiting to call or you couldn't handle waiting, staring at the phone or whatever. I suppose with the wild popularity of cellphones, we've all but given up on the "romance" of staring at the phone. I digress.

So what happens? You met her on Saturday. You call her on Wednesday maybe even Thursday. If she moves quick enough, she calls you back Friday night when you're already well into your happy drinking. Another weekend of seeing each other drunk. Or, if she's coy enough, you might get a call on Tuesday. It's two weeks before you see each other another time. I am not interested in seeing some distant drunken memory of another person at that point. If that's what being cool means, I secede from the nation of coolness. Call me a dork, awkward, whatever.

Let's be sensible here. I thought the point was to see each other another time, not to avoid and prolong the time period between seeing each other. I'm not saying from the bar, you should jump to meeting parents. Besides, if the other person didn't want to see you, waiting whatever number of days will never change that. And if you became undesirable because you didn't wait long enough, you probably didn't want to see that person more than the time you've already spent seeing.

Of course the game is useful. It can even be fun. I don't know if I know of an alternative. But I do know this. You are never as happy as the day you meet someone while you are being yourself.

Two of my favorite poems...

This is more the Heather's stomping ground, but I thought I'd leave a couple of poems here that I particularly enjoy, one at the beginning of a relationship, and the other, at the end of one. Especially since so many of our friends just started one or came out of one, I thought this would be an appropriate time.

If thou must love me, let it be for nought
Except for love's sake only. Do not say
'I love her for her smile--her look--her way
Of speaking gently,--for a trick of thought
That falls in well with mine, and certes brought
A sense of pleasant ease on such a day'--
For these things in themselves, Beloved, may
Be changed, or change for thee,--and love, so wrought,
May be unwrought so. Neither love me for
Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry,--
A creature might forget to weep, who bore
Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby !
But love me for love's sake, that evermore
Thou mayst love on, through love's eternity.
- E. Browning

When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow--
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame;
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me--
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well:--
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met--
In silence I grieve
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?--
With silence and tears.
- Lord Byron

Wine Bars

There is an explosion of wine bars everywhere you go. They either look really "classy" with lots of wooden things and stone things, or they are uber-chic like you just stepped into some way-European avant-guard movie set. And so many of these places have wine list that reads more like Finnegan's Wake what with incomprehensible chateau this and that or bodega this and that. Even the grape name gets burdensome to order. So what do people generally do? They say, I'd like #258, please. No, just the half bottle will suffice. Like it's a stop-and-go take-out Chinese restaurant or some sort of Ikea type furniture store.

And let's say that you got lucky and the lottery pick was something you really liked. #285. Or was it #258? Besides, it was from somewhere France, you think. But was it? Was it one of them Californian places with French name? Or was it from Australia with French name? And was it 1995 or 1996? I think the waiter said one year was really good, and the other was terrible. Oh, what does that all mean?

And the wine bars that serve so many bottles by the glass? How do I know how long each bottle has been opened for? How do I know if it is ok to return when it seems to taste bad? And besides, what does this 18-year-old high school graduate know about the wine that I don't know, even if I don't know anything about wine at all? At least I've had drinks before. Legally, anyway.

Well, I've had enough with this nonsense.

The truth is, unless you are a serious wine geek, none of these things ever matter to you. You might like to think that they do. But they don't. You just want to sound somewhat smart when talking about wine. You want to know just enough so when you do go to a nice dinner, you want to be able to ask the right questions, and more importantly, you want to be able to understand the answers that you get and imagine what that means in your head. And if you really want, you might even think about what that image is like to the food that you are ordering, and see if they might pair up nicely.

What I'd like from a wine bar is a place where the owner of the bar has carefully selected a manageable number of bottles from a few different styles of wine. There should be a description of a few factors to look for when drinking wine. Acidity, fruit, tannin, whatever. With each wine, there should be a general description of the region/varietal, and a more specific description of that bottle of wine. The description might even suggest the types of food the wine might go well with. If they serve the food there, all the better. The serving staff should know enough to be able to explain the rudamentary definitions of the words people use to describe the wine. Or if that's too much, because it seems so "educational" then at least categorize the wines by their characteristics. Just don't sort the wines by the color/region/varietal as most bars would like to do. That's like saying, "I like all types of music except for country and rap" or "I think all GM cars are so bad" or whatever.

In the end though, if you like it, stick with it.

Future Interest made easy

While I was studying for the finals (I just finished the first year of law school), I got a little snappy with all the future interest nonsense. And if you don't know what I am talking about, it's because nobody does. Oh, and if you are thinking of going to law school, leave all earthly possessions behind, because you will become a hideous shell of a human being that you once were. Of course, chances are, you started out being that disgusting human being, anyway...

Anyway, there are four main types of future interest shit that I was thinking about.

Fee Simple Absolute = girl friend not gainfully employed (although, she could find a new boyfriend, as I found out...)

Fee Simple Determinable = girl that you are dating for her "personality" or just because she is hot and dumb.

Fee Simple Subject to Conditions Subsequent = a sorority girl who might have herpes.

Fee Simple Subject to Executive Limitations = your best friend's ex-girlfriend.

God, I am bored.

I woke up thinking...

So, this morning, I woke up thinking... wife and life rhymes. There must be a reason. Like they (are) both (fill in the blank). Then i was thinking, too bad friendship and alcohol don't rhyme. but ass-o-hol and alcohol rhymes... Yeah.

Closer to Fine 1

This is the original version of the article published on the Docket (Case Law news letter).

I still don't know my locker combination by heart or the locker number, but at least I feel comfortable enough at Case Law to begin a project with which I've been tinkering -- a slightly more intimate forum than Appealing the Balk (a project that we plan to continue). I know. This is the last issue of the Docket this year, and I decided to take a crack. Well, enough Ratherizing from me.
Let's start with the more mundane -- voting. Many people agree that voting is important. I too agree that it is important, even with the hanging chads and the statistical margin of error.
Some of you might remember, but right about the time of the SBA election, our dear editor urged all of you to go out and vote. Whether or not it was his sentiment exactly, usually the voice urging the less than excited participants to vote comes with a tag-line: Making a choice is better than not making one at all.
Moving away from the SBA election (I did vote, and voted for a candidate) the retort to the above has been simple. In recent presidential elections, many have complained that the choices (not counting Nader and Buchanan as legitimate choices) did not offer real choices. They seemed to string buzz words in different order...
There is a third choice that nobody seems to discuss, and that is to vote, but to vote in a blank ballot. If you are compelled not to vote for a candidate for whatever reason, case a vote of no vote. Show that you care, but show that these political goons are no good for you.
Just imagine in this national political climate, it comes out that 5% of Americans cared enough to get out of the house to vote, but voted for nobody. You can create your own choice by choosing not to choose and letting the system know about it. See what changes you might be able to bring about. We all love America. Or, if you are the "Think Globally, Act Locally" bumper sticker carrier, then think about the SBA presidential election. The impact of your vote would be even larger.
Of course, as much as I'd like to see a smaller revolution of sort in this country, this is not what I'm talking about. That would be too Conspiracy of Cataline (Classics allusion), a foiled revolutionary plot whose leader had no plan for the future. Indeed, making a choice is better than no choice at all. Make your choice of no vote, and let the system hear the inefficiency of the system. Let them call you a complainer, but at least you'll know that you are not settling for something barely mediocre.


Rough transition, but speaking of complaining, I've got one of my own this week. As anyone from the 1L advocate section could tell you, there is about nothing I love more than some light hearted but spirited softball games. Luckily, Case has a rather healthy intramural program, so I joined a coed recreational league. The game on Tuesday against another law school team had a little extra spirit, but I am not here to talk about that... other than to tell you that I loved sliding to 3b head-first. Drew a bit of blood to top it all. I'll show you the scab if you ask nicely.
Now, this coed-rec league is a fraud. Incidentally, there are minimum number of women you have to field. To boot, they have an optional walk rule where if a male batter is walked and a female batter follows him, then she has a choice to take an automatic walk. I learned that this is more egalitarian league rule than most other coed leagues where a batting lineup has to have alternating male-female, and the league has an automatic walk rule.
It is not so much that I do not realize the "reasons" behind the rules (which are exceedingly silly) but it is more about the reasons why the participants would play in the leagues where such rules prevail. In fact what does that say about our society in general?
To be fair, I come from an institution who regularly gets featured in New York Times for things like "Gender Neutral Hall." And before you think that's weird (and I grant you that some of the implications can be a bit away from the "norm"), all it ends up being is what you might think of a coed dorm. No big deal, right?
When the league has no rules regarding male and female ratio, the whole enterprise become more about the enjoyment of the game and the smaller competitions within the game itself and less about the wins and the losses. I enjoy the competitive spirit. I am proud of even the intramural championship mug I won. After years of trying, we won in indoor soccer. It was worth the trips to the emergency room and the MRI where the doctor made me listen to Sade for an hour...
In the end, funny league rules or not, softball can't be bad. I hope you all have safer summer than the one I'm planning on. If you ask nicely, I'll show you the scars in the fall.