I could have bet money that the foreward would be written by one of two people.  As it turns out, one wrote it while the other wrote the introduction, thus allowing both of the big names in whose reflected glory he hopes to bask to serve as his endorsers.  Without them, who would care what he has to say?

Norm Pattis has been working on his book for a while, and now it’s here.  It’s called Taking Back the Courts, and the foreward, introduction and first chapter are available online for free. I read them.  It was sufficient.  A few years ago, Norm might have asked me to review his book. That was when we were good friends, sometimes confidants.  Norm doesn’t like me anymore.


The old Norm Pattis

As business died, and the money it brought in with it, Norm had to adapt to a changing world.  A tough, nasty, lawyer gave way to a melodramatic marketing, whose every word was carefully crafted to wrench the heart.  Provided the reader wasn’t bound up in critical thinking, it was a moving experience.  Tears flowed.  Emotions swirled.  Feelings oozed.  That was the way the “leading American trial lawyer” rolled, at least as far as his marketing and branding company, Platform Strategy, thought it best done.

I have followed the new, carefully packaged Norm’s efforts from afar, reading his blog posts from time to time, as he once wrote strong stuff, interesting stuff, thoughtful stuff.  It’s now like watching a car wreck, his strained, pedantic prose ranging from the overly simplistic to the unbearably disingenuous.  He’s been caught a couple of times for some horrifically bad judgment, whether impugning his client with improvident twits or flagrant hypocrisy.  He fights to deny it, but persuades no thinking person.

For the most part, I’ve laid off commenting about Norm’s efforts.  As an old friend, I saw no purpose in undermining his marketing efforts.  If he wanted to blather about misery, whether his or others, what did I care?  Some were laughable.  Some were offensive.  Some were just dumber than dirt. 

They had an audience, whether nutjobs or young lawyers filled with more zeal than comprehension.  Whether that audience included potential clients with the money to retain a lawyer is another matter.  But Norm built up a following among those who still enjoy a soap opera.

But just the other day, Norm crossed the line again, with a post grounded in the world he’s manufactured to promote his fiction of Norm as the poor, lone David facing a world of Goliaths.  It’s a continuing theme for Norm, to set himself up as the lone fighter for truth and justice, and castigating all others as the evil self-righteous mob in a conspiracy to subjugate poor Norm to their will. 

There’s truth that others, myself included, have been critical of Norm.  It’s a lie that it’s because some conspiracy exists to bend Norm to our will.  Whether grandiose delusion or marketing ploy, I can’t say, but the criticism comes because it’s well deserved.  We are all subject to the criticism of our peers from time to time. Most of us take it in stride. Norm whines about it, fabricates grand conspiracies and uses it to his marketing advantage. 

There have been a few posts that were so shockingly wrong that I was nearly moved to write about them.  But I exercised self-restraint, realizing that those who had any depth of knowledge would immediately see that Norm was shooting blanks, and those who couldn’t see it wouldn’t grasp the problem anyway.  Still, I admired in a perverse way Norm’s sheer, unadulterated gall, his facility to denigrate others to promote himself.

He does it well, admitting his strawman faults, but then using them to show that he’s only human and in his effort to be the only honest person in law, the only lawyer who truly cares about the downtrodden, the only lawyer who would give his flawed life for others, he blames everyone else for being evil.  It’s a great shtick, provided you don’t think too hard or pay attention to the last few times he played that card.

The last time he did this, in his  turnaround post on Joseph Rakofsky, Norm needlessly attacked a broad swath of blawgers in order to justify his newfound grasp of the obvious, that Rakofsky wasn’t another downtrodden David, like Saint Norm, against whom all the evil blawgers piled on.  Norm discovered that Rakofsky was wrong. 

He had previously written about Rakofsky, in a mind-numbingly stupid post, designed to serve his contrarian marketing purposes.  Since Norm wouldn’t get any marketing value out of agreeing with others, he decided to go down a different path.  Only later did he realize how ridiculous his post was.  Nowhere does Norm mention in the second post, which pretends that he only later saw the evidence of Rakofsky’s incompetence, that if this were so, his first post reflected his willingness to opine in the total absence of knowledge.  Ignorance isn’t a good marketing tool, so he needed to come up with a better excuse.  Of course, the evidence was everywhere, and there’s no rational way he can claim that when he wrote his first post he had no clue what he was talking about.  Nor, of course, is being clueless a good reason to write about something, but that’s too obvious for words.

Norm’s willingness to harm others, including some who thought he was their friend, for no purpose beyond self-aggrandizement, is more than I can stomach.  Whereas I wouldn’t undermine Norm’s marketing efforts before, and I silently tolerated the fictional world Norm created where he was the hero and everyone else the villain, old friendship was stretched too thin when his self-promotion came at the expense of the few who still tolerated Norm despite his self-serving manipulations.  It made clear that Norm cared about no one and nothing but Norm.  There was no going back.

The foreword to Norm’s book is written by F. Lee Bailey, a disbarred lawyer of great talent and even greater hubris.  The introduction is written by Gerry Spence, the master of self-promotion and emotional angst.  This is the company Norm hopes to keep.   He will send love notes to foolish young lawyers who think that they can bask in the reflected glory of greatness, just like Norm, but only so that he has adoring fans.  Maybe they will buy his book and gush about how sensitive he is.  The book will likely be a big hit with the tin foil hat crowd, who love simplistic vilification.

I won’t buy the book.  I already know Norm’s message, and it holds no interest for me.  That Norm chose to harm others in the process of promoting himself is the last straw. Norm can wallow in his guilty verdicts by himself.  I have no sympathy left for him. He’s chosen to be despicable, and his pathetic attempt to pretend he’s forced to do so because of the vast conspiracy against him no longer suffices.

At the end of Norm’s second Rakofsky post, he complains (after writing that he has no cause to complain, which naturally doesn’t stop him from doing so) of being attacked:

But today. Well, today, I illustrated the point I attacked in this piece: the Internet to rageaholics what bars are to drinkers: places where it’s too easy to go on a toot without regard for the consequences. So much though I don’t regret the flame war — it felt good; I regret the descent into simian rage. Mea culpa.

Every hockey team has its enforcers, guys who go out to draw penalties and try to distract opponents from the game at hand. Better players know to ignore then enforcers. I failed today, and hence draw some time in the penalty box. Live and learn, over and over and over again. 

I first heard his name when he called me years ago. He was launching SImple Justice and called around to other bloggers to introduce himself and get tips on what works and doesn’t. The call amazed me. This was a guy who was going online with a design. I turned down the offer to co-author his page.

There was a time when the reaction received when some enterprise, to which you paid money in exchange for a service, failed to deliver ranged from defensive to antagonistic.  The former meant some person, usually hidden in a secret bunker in the midwest, would tell you about their problems, The latter meant that if something went wrong, it was by definition your fault because they were never wrong.

This made people angry.  It was bad for business.

Then somebody got it into their head that a simple apology would often go a long way in diffusing the anger, and so was born the ubiquitous response to all problems uttered by every young lady on the telephone in far away places:  “I’m sorry for your inconvenience.”

At first, there was a certain charm to the expression of concern.  It was certainly better than its predecessor, that the customer was always wrong.  Sure, it was banal and insincere, but at least it didn’t inflame an already unpleasant situation.  But that was due to the juxtaposition of the old script and the new.  The day has past.

This morning, upon cranking up the computer, I began my morning ritual as I always do, first checking my email.  I tend to have a lot of email, which makes me pretty much like every other semi-computer literate lawyer around.  Most are inconsequential, and produce the deep impression on my delete button.  A few are interesting and/or funny.  A few are critical.

This morning, there were none.  Not because I received no emails, but because the program I’ve used since the early 1990s to manage them decided that it wasn’t going to give them to me today.  For those who wonder why this space isn’t filled with something law related, it’s because my morning has been spent trying to find out what’s become of my emails to the exclusion of performing my morning computer constitutional.

A pop up appeared on my screen.  It informed me that my email was unavailable (as if I was unaware of this) and that the popup was sorry for the inconvenience. I clicked “ok” because there was no button that said “bite me.”

After trying a host of methods to circumvent the problem, and getting nowhere, I inquired of a lovely young lady whose name I couldn’t understand.  I told her that my email wasn’t working.  She told me, “I’m sorry for your inconvenience.”  I lost it.  It’s foolish and inappropriate for me to do so, since it wasn’t her fault that I was having this problem, but I can’t bear to hear that phrase again.

First, you aren’t sorry.  You couldn’t care less. You say the words because they’re on the script of what to say to the person who has a problem, because somebody told you that it’s what to do.

Second, it’s not an “inconvenience.”  Whoever came up with that word choice is a moron.  An inconvenience is when I have to wait 10 seconds for the screen to load.  Not having access to email, a basic function in a computer driven society, is like losing electricity in the middle of winter.

Third, I don’t care whether a young lady with an incomprehensible name (Peggy?) is sorry.  Not about my inconvenience.  Not about my serious problem.  Not about the critical problem a client was seeking to alert me to, with a time sensitive need and dire consequences.

Fourth, you provide a discrete service.  I ask only for the provision of that service. If you can’t provide that service, you have no reason to exist as far as I’m concerned.  I seek neither your love, friendship nor empathy. Just the service.  I don’t care if you’re sorry. I care that you failed to provide the service. That’s the beginning and end of it for me.

It’s time to put an end to the use of the phrase, “I’m sorry for your inconvenience.”  As much fun as it was when businesses first pulled it out of their book entitled “how to make irate customers less irate after you’ve failed,” it no longer works.  It’s time is over.  The phrase is played.

To tell the truth, the phrase only worked for me for about a day or two after it came into use.  It was a pleasant change of pace from the typical, customers are such a pain for expecting us to give them something in exchange for their money.  But its emptiness was quickly evident.  After the glow of emotional validation receded, whatever was the problem remained.  Unfixed.

You’re sorry for my inconvenience?  I don’t care. Fix the problem.

And while we’re at it, the techn-lovers who comprise the choir singing hosannas to the computer overlords never mention the fact that sometimes, every once in a while, the cloud goes down. Poof, it’s not there. Then what?  Explain to your client why you can’t do the work.  Explain to the judge why can’t produce. Blame the cloud and see who cares.

To a greater or lesser extent, we’ve become dependent on technology, though we have no control over it and are at the mercy of people in places like Seattle to make sure it works. If it doesn’t, we’re screwed. They, so they say, are sorry for the inconvenience. How’s that working for you?

To anyone who sent me an email last night or this morning, I haven’t been able to access it.  I don’t know what it says. I can’t respond. I can’t act upon it. I am not sorry for the inconvenience. I’m angry at the failure and the fact that I have no idea when, or if, it will ever be available to me.

For the first time ever, I pray that everything in my inbox is spam and garbage, so that nothing important, no less critical, is missed.

It’s become a bit of a fixation for me, to tune into Good Morning America at around 7:25 a.m. for my daily dose of the commentary on the Casey Anthony trial.  Not because it’s informative.  It’s not.  Not because I learn about the case.  I don’t.

I watch the tube because it’s like a car crash from which I can’t turn away.  Robin Roberts seems to take the helm for this segment, though George Stephanoupolis gets to sit at the desk from time to time, as they offer the insight of their Casey Anthony trial pundits.

First, there’s Dan Abrams, Floyd’s boy.  I first met Danny when he was the baby lawyer in residence in the wilds of Secaucus, New Jersey, also known as MSNBC.  That was when lawyers were brought in to do six hour stints on the case of the day, with news readers like Ashley Banfield, when she was a cute blond and didn’t wear her “I’m an intellectual so take me seriously” glasses, and Rick Sanchez in his peculiar pastel colored shirts.

Dan was a nice kid, well spoken and bright.  He had a law degree and a bright future as a TV lawyer personality.  He was curious and perky; Now he comes off as overly serious and emo, which is too bad.  What Danny was not was a practicing lawyer.  Ever.  Not criminal. Not civil. Not trial. Not transactional. 

Dan’s commentary on the case, notwithstanding his lack of any basis to offer it, has been pretty decent, with some astute observations, though a bit heavy handed on the “most important thing” of the day.  Of course, since he’s a TV pundit rather than lawyer, he appreciates the need to be emphatic to generate some melodrama and interest, or he won’t have a gig.

Second, there’s everybody’s favorite oversprayed Perpetual Prosecutor, Nancy Grace.  Why GMA would give her airtime is beyond me, but watching her is at the heart of my morbid fascination.  The noise that emits from her mouth range from the blitheringly stupid to the insanely wrong.  There is no other person that I can think of who has done as much to make the public ignorant about the law than Nancy Grace.  And I don’t think she’s really blond.

What is particularly troubling about Grace’s spewing a constant stream of stupidity is that it goes unchallenged.  Today, she opined about smell evidence, which she asserts must be good because anybody who’s ever smelled a dead body knows that it smells like.  This was one of her more sophisticated arguments, beating the crap out of her typical “where there’s smoke, there’s fire,” type stuff and insistence on calling Casey Anthony “totmom,” which is just pointlessly dumb.

Danny, sitting there in his pundit chair, could call Nancy out on the more ridiculous things she says, but he doesn’t.  I’m sure that he sees no benefit to getting into a tiff with her, but I wonder whether he disagrees with the absurd things she says or even realizes how outrageously uninformed she is.  I get angry with Dan for this failure every time, even as I watch Nancy Grace in horror.

Third, what is Good Morning America doing?  Sure, it’s entertainment rather than news, and has been for a long time, since Diane Sawyer did her dead baby interviews, asking the mother of the child murdered the day before, “how does it feel that little Joey was found murdered, sexually assaulted and mutilated?”  It was Sawyer and GMA that turned it into classic television.

But is there no desire to maintain any credibility?  Sure, dignity was lost long ago, but at least you can make a half-hearted stab at providing the public with information that won’t leave it dumber than when it made the mistake to tune in?

Being a big proponent of the First Amendment, prepared to safeguard and fight for the freedom of the press at a moment’s notice, I note that there’s a giveback to this enormous power.  Don’t spread crap.  Don’t use the power for evil instead of good.  Try to educate and illuminate.  Try to get the facts right.  Don’t give air to morons to spread bad information, specious or facially ridiculous arguments.

Try not to leave the public dumber for having watched.  Is that too much to ask?

Many years ago, my client  was alleged to have possessed a “sharpened screw driver.”  It was repeated in nearly every press account, and became part of the myth of the case.  It was nonsense, but it was more real than reality itself because the media said so.  This experience taught me an important lesson about the media, about the power of oft-repeated myth.

In an  Eyewitness News report this morning on the arraignment on the indictment of Dominique Strauss-Kahn, a generally inconsequential event in a case where the defendant will plead not guilty and the case will be adjourned for discovery and motions, reporter Jamie Roth said:

His lawyers say evidence suggests his sexual act was consensual.

“This is a case that’s going to trial,” a former prosecutor said, speaking on the condition of anonymity so as not to be seen as taking a side in the case. “You’re not going to offer him a plea that’s a nonjail disposition — Vance would look foolish if he did that. And the defendant, he’s got a perception of himself that doesn’t permit him to stand up and say, ‘I raped that woman.’ ”

“You really have to attack the witness’s credibility” in sexual assault cases, a Manhattan defense lawyer, Jeffrey Lichtman, said. “While it may seem morally unseemly to the public, it’s legally appropriate and we have to do the best we can for our clients.”

He added: “You have to make this into a money thing at the end. Has she defaulted on loans or bounced checks?”

A plea bargain was struck, and both prosecution and defendant were prepared to put the matter to rest.  The charge was the felonious reckless operation of a vehicle, plus some misdemeanor failure to obeys. From the Laconia Daily Sun :

Officer (now Sergeant) Michael Finogle was in the parking lot at Endicott Beach when he said Jonathan E. Lord, 25, drove a car “at a rate of speed and manner as to narrowly miss” him as he was trying to get the car to stop.

Lord would have been sentenced to one year in jail for each charge — all but 60 days suspended — and would have had the suspended jail time hanging over his head for three years.

My son ran in the door from school to tell me a funny joke.  “Why is it, Dad, that we drive on a parkway and park on a driveway?”  He guffawed, falling on the floor in spasms of laughter.  Kids.  I never expected that to be the moment when he proved his mettle for a seat on the New York Court of Appeals.

In Groninger v. Mamaroneck, New York’s highest court made its own version of that joke, holding that a parking lot was a highway, thus precluding Margaret Groninger from suing the Village of Mamaroneck for injuries sustained from a slip and fall on ice in the village parking lot because it hadn’t receive prior notice of the ice. 

New York requires that defects, even the transitory ones that exist for a few hours before disappearing in the midday sun, be noticed in writing if they’re on “any sidewalk, crosswalk, street, highway, bridge or culvert.”  Notice that there’s no mention of parking lot?  No problem.

As the  Washington Post explains:

Four judges say this parking lot serves the “functional purpose” of a highway, “open to the use of the public for purposes of vehicular travel.”

Three dissenting judges say that’s so obviously untrue “as hardly to merit serious discussion.”

It is so obvious as hardly to merit serious discussion that a parking lot does not fulfill the same function as a “highway.” As everyone knows, the dominant purpose of a parking lot is to accommodate stationary, i.e., parked, vehicles. By contrast, the precisely opposite dominant purpose of a highway is to enable vehicles to move with a degree of expedition. While a parking lot may be entered and exited by public roads the two types of facilities are notable for their essentially discontinuous purposes.

One of the great things about being the government is that you get to create something like the National Institute for Justice, with its really cool sounding name and the imprimatur of being, well, trusted and important, when it’s an apologist for prosecution and law enforcement.

Even then, it’s research at its most favorable to the hand that holds the weapon can’t necessarily obscure the truth.  An  NIJ report concludes that Tasers are the mother’s milk of weapons, completely safe.

“There is no conclusive medical evidence in the current body of research literature that indicates a high risk of serious injury or death to humans from the direct or indirect cardiovascular or metabolic effects of short-term CED exposure in healthy, normal, nonstressed, nonintoxicated persons,” the report concludes. “Field experience with CED use indicates that short-term exposure is safe in the vast majority of cases.”

Medical evidence conclusively proves that there is a high risk of serious injury or death to humans from the direct and indirect cardiovascular or metabolic efforts of short-term CED (Taser) exposure in unhealthy, abnormal, stressed, intoxicated persons.

And we all know that Tasers are never, ever used on people who are unhealthy, or who are intoxicated, or who are under some sort of duress. So the debate is settled!

Typical libertarian snark, right?  After all, is it the cops’ fault that people have heart conditions, drink alcohol or suffer the debilitating effects of irritable bowel syndrome?  How could they ever know that the person against whom a Taser is used is, well, human.

The point remains that you have a better chance of surviving a Taser than a Glock, putting aside for the moment that hitting someone with a bullet requires the ability to aim.  This argument in favor of non-lethal less than lethal weaponry has one major flaw.  The use of a gun is only justified by the threat of lethal force.  The use of a Taser is justified by annoyance, overweight, unwarranted eyebrow raising and a rush to get to Dunkin Donuts when the next batch emerges fresh from the oven.

While policies vary, the use of Tasers seems to have avoided any meaningful policy limitations, as judged from the post-death assertions of law enforcement.  When is the last time you read a statement issued by police and an officer’s use of a Taser (other than against a spouse) violated department policies?  Never? 

Now that the National Institute of Justice has signed off on the rampant use of Tasers, thus conclusively establishing that they are safe to use (except against the people most likely to be tazed), we can all rest easier knowing that our government has carefully scrutinized the problem and declared that there is no problem at all.

Taze on. bro.

When I read the ramblings of legal futurists who predict rapture that the practice of law will undergo massive structural change in the near future, it throws me back to the days in the 50s when futurists predicts that by the end of the century, we would all wear polyester jumpsuits and get around in flying cars. 

Many of the predictions are modestly interconnected, like the unbundling of legal services (think buy fill in the blank Wills from Legal Zoom), outsourcing of grunt work to Bangalore, where document inspectors are paid 17¢ an hour to push paper from one pile to another, to robots in cravats delivering closing statements.  I have a prediction, that the heirs of half those people who spent $249 for their Last Will and Testament will be needing a darn good litigator when they find out why filling in the blanks isn’t good enough and that Pappy’s small estate has more of a chance of escheating than passing into their hands.

One of the things that few would suggests, not even the most ardent of futurists, is that trial work, and more particularly criminal defense, will ever be reduced to paint by numbers.  This may be because they don’t believe it to be possible, or that they fear that living criminal defense lawyers will beat them senseless if they get wind of the prediction.  The latter is not an empty concern.

Yet, one of our own has boldly leaped where no man has gone before.  Following on a  curious post by Josh Blackman, who is in the process of transitioning from law student to legal scholar by hurdling over the chance to practice law, if only for a moment.

Aside: One of the most intriguing things about most of those who aspire to telling lawyers what their future will be is that they don’t actually practice law, and some have never practiced law.  It’s like being a food critic when no savory crumb has ever passed their lips, and they’ve only gazed upon cuisine from afar, reminiscent of a Star Trek episode they’ve likely never watched where the food looked magnificent but had no flavor whatsoever.  And yet, they feel no shame in telling those who do about the view from those who don’t. Go figure.

Software cannot replace the judgment and creativity required for coming up with effective strategies, adapting the law, or persuading others.  Spotting the actual issue from a mess of facts, notwithstanding what the client happens to think the issue is. Figuring out what needs to be done and how best to do it. Coming up with the right questions, to get the most accurate data.  These are all human skills that algorithms just can’t handle at the moment.  These are the high-level functions that you’ll still need a lawyer for.

But a lot of lawyering really can be done by flowchart.  Once the issue’s been identified, it’s just a matter of selecting the correct law to apply, plugging the relevant data into that formula, and seeing what the answer is.  For a lot of junior associates, this is a big part of their job description.  The flowcharts can branch intricately, but that doesn’t make them any less formulaic.

Not what you would have expected, eh?  The Nathans go on:

It’s wrong to suggest, however, that people will be able to replace their lawyers with a website.  This kind of software is not going to be useful to clients — in fact, it could be downright harmful.  You’re still going to have to know what law to apply, how to apply it, when to apply it, and what facts are relevant.  If our experience of clients is any guide, most people — even super-smart people — suck at this.  They’ll say or do things that hurt their own interests, thinking they’re doing the right thing.  They’ll apply the wrong law, at the wrong time, in the wrong way.  Ask any lawyer who’s had to deal with the requests of clients who do their own research online.

But it can be extremely useful to lawyers.  In addition to being a real time-saver, it could be useful to ensure that you’re doing things right — no necessary ‘i’s are left undotted, no ‘t’s left uncrossed.  We can readily envision software that performs the function of a practice guide checklist, plus the researching/cite-checking/summarizing function of a junior associate, plus a self-guided flowchart to help properly navigate even the most intricate and convoluted areas of law correctly.  You’d have to know what you’re trying to do; and you’d have to be able to spot when it’s gone off in the wrong direction and what input is necessary to get back on track; and you’d have to know what to do with the output once you have it — the real lawyering is always going to require a real lawyer — but the right software is certainly in the realm of possibility, and it could be a great thing.

To the extent that we can trust computers to make sure there are no “undotted ‘i’s,” I proudly use spellcheck before posting, and yet constantly have misspelled words in my posts.  Spellcheck is useful. Spellcheck is unreliable.  It’s adequate for the purpose of a blog post, where a typo is no more than an embarrassment, but it would never do for a legal brief.

To the extent that Nathan(s) relates his argument back to what junior associates do, he has a point.  When we look at the rote application of law, whether statutory or caselaw, it takes words and phrases that are regularly repeated, and attaches them to defined issues, producing a predictable result.  Much like the judge who relies on a oft-cited quote from some age-old Supreme Court decision, to dispense with the need to think too hard about whether his reference is bound by actual precedent or the grocery clerk’s checklist.

Nathan would be absolutely correct if the law stopped at the point of competency and inventiveness of junior associates, where we remember the rhetoric and forget the rationale.  Where we cut complex concepts to the quick, and spew simplistic issues out the other end so they neatly fit pigeonholes of precedent.

This isn’t the law, brother.  This isn’t what we do.  We aren’t binary clerks, at least not if we’re any good at the job or care in the least.  We strive for a deeper grasp.  We think.  We push envelopes, not just papers.  We look behind the caselaw, and sometimes underneath and over, to the left and right, to understand why a decision by dead jurists doesn’t answer all questions forever. 

Some people apply the law.  Others make it.  Still others understand it, and how it relates to the unique facts of a case. 

Every case is unique.  I know, that sounds so Pollyannaish, where most see garden variety drug deals or assaults, but it’s true.  Look deep enough, think hard enough, and you will find something unique about your defendant or his case.  It may not be sufficiently important to take it outside the realm of a judge’s knee-jerk reaction, but you’ll never know if you haven’t found it.

Nathan seems to recognize this when he writes about how the lawyer still needs to oversee the churning of the computer, but it raised two questions: How would lawyers who become dependent on machines develop to the point where they have the experience and capacity to understand why computers, left to their own devices (get it?), aren’t good enough?  Nobody learned to program from plug and play hardware.

Second, isn’t the distinction between the yeoman and the master the ability to take the same raw materials, the same statutory and caselaw, the same tired rhetoric, and use it in a way that accomplishes a goal that would otherwise be unachievable?

Ain’t no computer can do that.  Ain’t no computer that will ever be able to do that.

Since the first time he told me I was wrong, he was one of my favorite commenters on SJ.  Over time, we became friends, and I grew to respect him immensely.  I even wrote an homage to him.  Joel Rosenberg, better known around these parts as Jdog, was a special guy.

Today, I received an email from his lovely and beloved wife, Felicia, who Jdog always referred to as SWMBO:

On Wednesday afternoon, June 1, 2011, Joel had a respiratory depression that caused a heart attack, anoxic brain damage and major organ failure.  Despite the very best efforts of the paramedics and the team at Hennepin County Medical Center, Joel was pronounced brain dead at around 5:37 pm Thursday June 2nd,  In accordance with his wishes, he shared the gift of life through organ and tissue donation.

He is survived by his daughters, Judith Eleanor and Rachel Hannah, and his wife, Felicia Herman.  Today, June 3rd would have been his 32nd wedding anniversary.

It’s not my way to wallow about such things.  So instead, I offer this image of how I will remember Jdog.

Rest in peace, Jdog.  TANSTAAFL

President Obama signed the renewed USA Patriot Act into law with an autopen.  Scandalous.  It’s a law so valuable, so important to the functioning of America, that nothing can stand in the way of its perpetuation.  How dare the president risk sunset.

At the time it was enacted, few, maybe even no one, knew it’s value, no less its contents. Sure, it enables the government to do scary things, powerful things, to protect us from terrorists.  And criminals.  And people who just don’t agree with the government. And people who do things that a cop somewhere thinks they shouldn’t do.

A guy in Maryland, Christopher Fussell, found this out as he was videotaping.  He shot. The cop didn’t like it and told him to stop. He argued. The cop explained.

Officer: “Listen, listen to what I’m saying. The Patriot Act says that critical infrastructure, trains, train stations, all those things require certain oversight to take pictures, whether you say they are for personal use or whatever, that’s your story,” the officer said.

Now, cops have always vaguely referred to bodies of law to justify telling people not to do things they have a protected right to do. But the PATRIOT ACT gives them undreamed-of street cred when they do so. See, (1) hardly anyone knows what is in it, (2) the media blindly pushes the narrative that the PATRIOT ACT actually does let cops do all sorts of stuff they’ve always done, and (3) the culture blindly pushes the narrative that we need to yield to authority whenever that authority can forge a connection, however tenuous, to OMG 9/11. Hence ignorance — both our own, and that of the people we look to for information — is one of the chains that binds us.

But there has been no tool, no law, more widely cited and less widely known than the USA Patriot Act.

Critics of the law argue that it’s a mere compilation of proposed and failed initiatives that had floated for years on the Department of Justice’s wishlist of powers it would like but no one, no legislator, would ever put into their hands.  Critics of the law argue that it was passed in a rushed heat of passion following the events of 9/11, when Americans were as malleable toward security as anyone could ever hope them to be.

Critics, however, didn’t appreciate at the time just how useful the law would be.  We focused on the language of the law, the powers put into the hands of law enforcement, the ability for abject abuse.  We did not concern ourselves with the law as a wordless penumbra of unadulterated power, where no one would bother citing chapter and verse, but merely mention the words “Patriot Act” and the word of a cop would itself humble the strongest man.

In the old days, laws prohibited particular acts, and people had at least a general idea of what conduct was unlawful and knew that they should behave within certain parameters.  Police officers were not generally of the view that whatever struck them, each of them individually, as a good idea for what people should not do, became law, enforceable by the might of their baton, taser, even gun if necessary, as soon as the word came out of their mouth.  That power didn’t really exist until the passage of the USA Patriot Act. 

Today, there is no longer a need for Congress to worry about the details of laws, to fret over which acts are lawful and which are not. It’s an irrelevancy.  The cop on the beat will decide for himself what’s wrong and not permitted, what requires a stern word and what justifies a damn good beating.  And when asked how he arrived at his assertion that his whimsical notion of law justified his seizing control over a citizen, he can proudly exclaim, The Patriot Act.

And President Obama almost screwed it all up by signing the extension by autopen.  What ever was he thinking, take such an untoward risk?