9.26.2006

Here are my notes from today's Civil Procedure class. It probably makes more sense to anyone outside of law school than it does to me. Service on individuals within the U.S. (4(e)) 1. Pursuant to law of state where court located or service effected 2. By personal service, by service on legal agent, or by leaving copies at dwelling house/ place of abode w/ person of suitable age and discretion residing therein. Service on individuals in foreing country (4(f)) 1. Internationally agreed means: treaty such as Hague Convention 2. If none, or if permitted by treaty: in manner prescribed by foreign law as directed by foreign authority in response to letter rogatory unless prohibited by the country, personal service, or by certified mail Service on Corporations (4(h)) 1. Pursuant to state law, or by personal service on legal agent (w/ mailed copy if required by state law) 2. in foreign country, under 4(f)) Waiver of Service (4(d)) If copy of complaint & summons mailed to ∆, with reasonable time to return waiver (at least 30/60 days), extra copy of notice and request, prepaid means of compliance in writing: Costs of service imposed on ∆ if refuses to waive Not a method of service—just a cost-shifting incentive to waive formal service Due Process Standard for Service Mullane: method of service must be reasonably calculated to apprise ∆ of pendency of action and give reasonable opportunity to respond If Π knows or has reasong to know ∆’s identity and address, publication is insufficient and nothing less than mailing likely deemed reasonable Despite pennoyer, publication OK only if names unknown and not reasonably ascertainable Reasonableness standard balances costs / benefits of service, looks to business practices as “floor.” How great is that?! Makes you want to shrink from the mere possibility of a litigative career, doesn't it? Ahh...life

9.08.2006

Something I've been thinking about a lot lately: My undergraduate degree. I had a lot of fun in the English department at the U. Papers were fairly free-form, creativity was held at a premium, and logic was a thing only philosophy majors dabbled in. Mine was the psychedelia of Sartrian Existentialism swirled with Sound Poetry, L'Orca and a meaty measure of Shakespeare. It was the most academically satisfying time of my life. It was the also the most disconnected with the Professional World I had ever been as well. And that was fine by me. I was this close to getting a PhD in literature. As far as I know, it might still happen. I'm still trying to figure out how I could become a literary minded expert witness, emerging from my professorial cocoon to occasionally spout out Ben Johnson and Seamus Heaney, leave the jury astounded, and with a swish of my robes return to my post as poet laureate at Harvard. Anyway, here's a letter I kind of wrote to myself at the beginning of what would be my "Senior" (2nd) year at the University of Utah, via the Daily Utah Chronicle: You thought it would never come around. In all those lazy hours of summer, you never imagined that you’d really have to return! Welcome back to school, you. It’s time to verbally rage against the machine once again, while diligently grumbling your way towards an official sheet of paper signed by important people that allows you to, get this!... work towards MORE official sheets of paper signed by OTHER important people! That’s right, that’s what you’re reading, studying, testing and bleeding for- a “degree.” To you freshmen, a degree’s not just limited to temperature and angle measures anymore. It’s a palpable, paper representation of all the hours you slept through lectures, all the papers you started two hours before they were due, all the times you told yourself this lie- “tonight, I’m going to STUDY,” and all the endless, empty cans of Coca-Cola by your desk. After eighteen years or 2,000 hours of credit, you’ll talk to an “advisor” about getting a degree. They’ll assign you another two semesters of “real classes,” and then you’ll be ready to don those rental robes and funny caps, walk down an aisle and receive…a fake degree. But the real one’s coming… …in the mail- First class, United States Postal Service, mind you. (They spare no expense, because they spared you none!) You’ll shake with anticipation as you gently withdraw your degree from the official envelope, shake it a bit, and put it somewhere conspicuous. If you notice any wrinkles in the degree, don’t try and iron it. (That’s not something they’d teach you at the University, but they should. Paper burns) Now, buy a nice frame for the degree, and hang it up on a wall somewhere. After $20,000 and a lot of headaches, you deserve to have people notice it! Your degree will have signatures from people you never met, but you’re pretty sure you heard of. In between the fancy titles and fancy ways of saying that you’re officially a “Bachelor of something,” your name appears in bright, bold letters. Perfect! Now you get to work for 10.00 an hour! When people see that you’ve earned a degree (you’ll have to show it to them), they’ll immediately think “Oh, me too!” and continue about their business. If you’re an Engineering major, or just lucky, they might even be impressed. These same people will probably ask if you’ve had any professional experience. At this point, you’ll be tempted to say “I’ve been in school for the past twenty years, moron! How can I possibly have any (bleeping) professional experience?!” but don’t succumb to that. You haven’t been working so hard just to flush your degree down the proverbial, professional toilet. Just calmly reply that you thought your degree would allow you to enter into a profession and gain that experience. So, when that day arrives, and you’ve proudly got your degree, don’t be surprised when you hear this from people and potential employers: “Silly you, degrees are for kids!” Welcome back, you! Enjoy!

9.05.2006

Here's another bit of creative poetry for you all. If you've never tried writing a found poem, you have to do it at least once before you die. At least once. Go to any website, recipe book or textbook that you own and rearrange the words you find there into some kind of poet-ish type of text, and voi-la!: poetry. While some people may still contend that this is, in fact, how poets actually create their works, and that may be the case with some, this is more of a fun little exercise than anything else. This one happened to receive a lot of love from a creative writing workshop of mine, and I still haven't quite nailed down why it works (if I had, I'd do it more often), but I like it, and that's what matters most. CIVIC LX Top-rung EX and tune-up intervals a little standard belt-and-pulley four-cylinder lineup; Best if returned (Buy) after a year’s perennial absence gained an infinite first-time option —at least for a while— The group ran on natural gas But dropped size, in the seventh system The sporty torque had longer derivatives 1.6 1.7 9 This would return: More low-emissions + five-speed manual transmissions Extra-cost, high mileage, fourspeed, 2 horsepower-liter it all gave way and Body Coupe began its generation with compressed, unchanged Power The automatic was a conventional front, But the DX, providing a number of previous Designs joined the new, all-new, All models offering of continuously variable side models and “gears.” Trunks grew in, the engine gained again, Offered, and consisted of DX All this was blank Transmission: “except change” Interiors were in, but output was gone. From http://auto.consumerguide.com/auto/used/reviews/full/index.cfm/id/2495