First, remember that special Best Buy was offering on Blackberrys? The one that jackass told me would be over last Friday? Well, I was at the Best Buy looking at something we need for the office today--something that was incredibly overpriced--and, just out of curiosity, I went and saw what the normal, nonsale price on the Blackberry was. To my shock, the price tag still said $79. Well, what the fuck is that, I thought. This sale was supposed to be over almost a week ago. So I asked the woman who was there if that was some sort of a mistake, and she told me that it wasn't and that, even if it was, they had to honor the price the tag said. So no help there. But then I remembered that when I saw the sale price last week, the tag was handwritten. This tag was typed out. So at some point between last week and this week, they printed out a whole new tag with the "special" price on it. Which means it's probably not the special price. Which makes me wonder what the fuck that guy was talking about. And if he was merely relaying information to me, then what the fuck is Best Buy doing?

Anyway, I'm never going to Best Buy again. Ever.

Second, after being disgusted by the Best Buy, I walked down the sidewalk in the strip mall to the Office Max or Staples or whatever to see how expensive what I needed was there. Walking from the Best Buy to the Staples means walking past an outdoorsy things store. Like, they sell kayaks and shit. Anyway, I was walking down the sidewalk, and I suddenly smelled something strange yet vaguely familiar. And then I realized that I recognized the smell: it was fucking pot! There was a very strong, distinct, pot smell outside the Gander Mountain. What the fuck? I mean, it's a suburban strip mall! Is some teenager really walking around smoking a joint in a strip mall? So, anyway, I stuck my head in the store and told the people there that I could smell the ganja. They were very perplexed, I think mostly by the fact that a guy in a suit was randomly telling them that he smelled pot.

Third, I went to the grocery store and, instead of bypassing the cashier as I usually do, I actually went to an open aisle--mostly because of the cute girl working the register. Anyway, when I got closer I realized two things: 1) she was probably under eighteen, so I'm officially a creepy old man and 2) her name tag said her name was "Laree." So I did the only thing a reasonable person could do: I said "Wait, your name is Larry? Like the cable guy?" She explained that her named is actually pronounced "luh-REE." And then she said "Although everyone always gets it wrong." I almost responded with "That's because your fucking name is pronounced "Larry" and no amount of creative idiocy on your parents' part is going to change that," but I instead said "Well, now that you've said it, I see I was wrong" or some shit.

But, seriously, Laree? What the hell?

Anyway, those were the highlights of my day.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 9:31 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Funny Shit , Rants About Things That Make Me Irrationally Angry

I've always been a night person. I'd much rather stay up until 4am than wake up at 7am. But this week I've had no choice--I've been up at 7 every morning. And it's been brutal, but also not.

Don't get me wrong. It's hard to drag my ass out of bed that early. And I still can't wrap my head around being completely wiped out and ready for bed at 10:30, especially after so many months of being able to stay up until whenever the hell I wanted.

Still, I've had to get up so early because I've had things to do, and that's a very nice feeling. I feel like I have a purpose again. Sitting around all day playing video games has its advantages, but it certainly makes you feel like a completely worthless individual after a while. Waking up early every morning, putting on my suit, going to court, and helping clients has made me feel the exact opposite.

I just wish I didn't have to get up so goddamned early.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 10:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , The Law Firm

Through the years, I've known a lot of people that were completely full of themselves. But none of the people I've ever met have been as completely and egregiously diluted as the two eighteen-year-old girls who are accusing Southwest Airlines of discriminating against them because they're too pretty. These girls sound like some of the most worthless human beings on the fucking planet. Let's take a look at some of the unbelievable treatment they were subjected to because of their unbelievable looks.

As soon as they boarded, [Nisreen] Swedberg says she asked for a bottle of water and was told she could have one once the rest of the plane was served. "And I patiently waited, and when they came around with waters, they just skipped over me."

So, you asked for water right when you boarded? Like when the flight crew is preparing for departure and making sure everyone's buckled in, and they didn't drop all that unimportant safety bullshit to bring you a water? And then you "patiently waited"--the fact that you have to throw in "patiently" makes it obvious that you were anything but patient--and they skipped over you? This is what you're upset about, you stuck-up bitch?

Let's see what your friend--who cursed at another passenger over the bathroom--has to say.

I think they were just discriminating against us because we were young, decent-looking girls. I mean, nobody else, really, on the plane looked like us--except us.

Huh. So no one on the plane looked like you, huh? Except for you. You're saying that you looked like you but no one else looked like you. That's deep.

But what you really mean, I assume, is that no one on the plane was as attractive as you take yourself to be. Well, I've got news for the two of you: You're not that hot. Moreover, the fact that you're both clearly self-centered, arrogant, unbelievably shallow, spoiled little bitches makes you both extremely unattractive. Years from now when no amount of silicone and botox can fix your failing appearances--which weren't that great to begin with--you'll be left with nothing but your personalities, which will be best possible punishment.

And I hope I'm there to see it.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 7:21 AM | Permalink | Comments (8)| Filed under Funny Shit , Rants About Things That Make Me Irrationally Angry , Rants on the News

I'm not sure if people would describe me as a pushover, but there have been a lot of times in the past when I haven't stood up for myself to the extent that I probably should have. I'm not talking about interpersonal situations so much, but rather about my dealings with institutions. For some reason, there have been many situations in which I take someone's word for something or just let something go without fighting as hard as I could or should. Regardless of my personality with my peers, I've always been less than assertive with respect to authority figures. Or, well, some authority figures. But that has apparently ended. Lately, I've apparently adopted this take-no-prisoners attitude that I've really enjoyed and that, frankly, has netted me excellent results. Here are a few examples.

I have all of my bills set to be automatically paid every month. Charter Communications, otherwise known as the Yoke of Oppression, knowing that my card had expired, decided that they were going to try to charge it, anyway. When it didn't go through--which they knew would happen--they charged me a $25 fee, even though I still had a couple of weeks before the payment was actually due. "I'm not fucking paying that," I thought when I read their little letter informing me of the charge. i called up the customer service people and explained that I've been a customer for almost four years, have never missed a payment, and have never been late with a payment. No dice--the woman refused to remove the charge. So I laid it on the line: I told her that either she removed the charge or I went the way of Mr. Vice and ditched Charter in favor of satellite. She still refused, but explained that she didn't have the authority to remove the charge (even though I had specifically asked to speak to someone with the authority to remove the charge) and that, besides, there wasn't a good reason for her to remove it. So I hung up on her and went to the local Charter office the next day where a very nice woman was able to remove the charge for me. Sweet.

Next, my bank decided that they were going to charge me $4 per month for two months worth of statements I needed in order to prove that they owed me $3,000. "Under no circumstances am I going to do that" I said, and they relented. And I might add that I got most of the money they owed me back, albeit from the UW, who craftily decided that I owed them a smaller amount and then sent me the difference. They're going to be hearing from me about that fairly soon.

Then that whole thing with Best Buy and the Blackberry happened. First off, I was able to get my phone company to waive my cancellation fee and let me out of my contract with them three weeks early by--get this--asking nicely. Then I got the non-Best Buy phone store to match the Best Buy price after Best Buy refused to port my old number over by, again, asking nicely.

Then--and this is by far the most fulfilling one for me--I got to be a hard ass towards one of the district attorneys in one of my cases. Take my word for it: it was awesome.

I remember when I was a kid, some guy I didn't know told me that you'll never get what you want if you're afraid to ask for it. For some reason, I've always been afraid to ask for things. It's been my attitude that if some company's policy is to charge for a failed payment, then that's their policy and you're fucked. And if some store has a certain price on an item, that's the price. But this new thing I've been doing has opened up a whole new, awesome world. I'm never paying full price for anything ever again. I can't wait to buy a car! I'm never taking anyone's shit again, ever.

This could be a very, very bad thing.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 11:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Funny Shit , General Awesomeness

I actually have no idea why this popped into my head tonight, but I remembered about Kelly Nolan tonight. I posted about her before here. Although her body was found six months ago, no one's been arrested yet. And that pisses me off.

I mean, we have amazing ways to determine who committed a given crime. Between DNA, fingerprints, and witnesses, you'd think it would be impossible for all but the most gifted criminals not to get caught. At least, that's what I'd like to believe. I'd like to believe that it's damn near impossible to get away with murder in this day and age. But here we are, six months later, and this woman's murder is still unsolved. That leaves me wondering whether we've got a criminal mastermind on our hands, whether the police have been dragging their feet, or whether crime is easier to get away with than I had assumed it was.

But what disturbs me more is how quickly this story stopped being a story. I mean, maybe I just haven't been paying attention to local media, but I haven't seen or heard anything about Ms. Nolan's murder in months. And that's kind of scary because, like I said in my original post, if she was murder, there's a fucking killer somewhere in Madison. That doesn't sit right with me.

Like I said, I don't know why this was on my mind. But the whole thing just sort of makes me sad.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 1:50 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Life Sucks Sometimes , Rants on the News

I acknowledge that I owe you an apology, Guy at the Best Buy, but let me explain my side of the story first.

My phone contract with my current company is about to run out. That means I get to buy a new phone, which, for someone as obsessed with technology as me, is just way too fun. I was extremely excited to see, then, that Best Buy has the Blackberry Curve on sale for $80. That's a fucking bargain. But here's the rub, Guy at the Best Buy: my contract with Alltel, my current cell-phone people, doesn't expire until March 9th. So if your sale doesn't go on until at least then, I'm fucked.

So I called you up, Guy at the Best Buy. And after asking to speak to you, I was put on hold. Then some guy in digital imaging answered. Then I asked to speak to you again. Then I was on hold for five minutes. Then you hung up on me. So I called again and, after telling the guy that answered that "some jackass" had just hung up on me, I got to speak to you.

You seemed competent enough--you knew exactly what phone I was talking about, and you could tell me when the sale would be over: two days from today. I was fucked. I wouldn't be able to take advantage of the sale price. That sucked, but it wasn't your fault. And I didn't blame you.

So then I asked the next logical question, Guy at the Best Buy. I asked what the normal, nonspecial price of the phone was. And that's when you really started to piss me off. See, you told me that you didn't know. And when I asked if you could find out, you told me that you couldn't. "What do you mean?" I asked. "Unfortunately, I can't access that information on the computer. I'm not authorized." See, now I was pissed. How is it possible that you don't know what something's going to cost two days from now? I mean, seriously!

But I kept my cool. I asked if you could perhaps ask someone else. And you grudgingly did. And came back and explained that no one knew. (By the way, I heard your conversation with that other guy. I heard the derision in your voice. And it hurt, man.) And now I was really pissed. "Is there some manager that would know?" I asked. "No, no one in the store has any idea," you replied.

So, you see, I was frustrated and disappointed and, I think you'll agree, justifiably so. And I was also angry. Still, it was completely out of line for me to repeatedly insist that you say "No one at the Best Buy has any idea what the hell we're doing" out loud in front of customers. I mean, I give you credit for indulging me and admitting that, in fact, you had no idea what the hell you were doing as far as cell phones. But I--selfishly--wasn't satisfied. I kept insisting that you say that exact phrase: "No one at the Best Buy has any idea what the hell we're doing" out loud on the phone.

That was wrong of me, and I apologize.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 11:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (12)| Filed under Apologies , Existential Nonsense , Funny Shit , Rants About Things That Make Me Irrationally Angry

Now, don't get me wrong, there are few things I love as much as new-fangled gadgets. If there's a needlessly technological way to do something simple, I want it. And if there's some fancy new equipment out there, I want that, too. For example, I don't know how I've lived this long without GPS--how can I go on without knowing my exact location on the surface of the Earth?

Still, there are time when technology lets you down in a profound way. Today was one of those times.

It all started innocently enough--the "ABS" light in my car came on during the drive to the office. I was worried, but not too worried because it's come on before--always after doing some ridiculous offroading--and then gone off. Since the roads around Madison have been shitty to an unimaginable degree in the past few days, I figured something similar was happening.

But things didn't get better when we got to the office. See, our fax machine and phone are on the same line, even though they each have a different number. I thought our fax machine was set up to answer the fax calls, but what had been happening was that our answering machine was picking up the calls too early. The result? Annoying modem sounds on the answering machine and now faxes in the fax machine. Still, we were able to take care of that problem fairly quickly, and I set out to tackle the biggest technological problem of the day: getting our new--and free, courtesy of Co-SME's dad--print server running. First step: turn on my laptop. That's when things really started to go South.

I got my laptop--or rather, my family got me my laptop--over three years ago, just before I came to law school. During that time, the little Averatec served me well and never let me down. Even during 3L year when the "Q" key started to come off, the thing soldiered on through editing, notes, and finals. Ok, I didn't take that many notes, but you get my point. It hadn't let me down once. Until today. When it completely crashed. Hard. So much so that I didn't even get a blue screen of death; no, all I got was a black screen, some nonsensical characters, and a sinking feeling in my stomach. But I didn't dwell--there were more technological disasters ahead.

Using Mr. Vice's laptop, I set out to get our printer working through the print server, thereby eliminating the need to have a host computer directly connected to the printer. After some initial confusion involving IP addresses and subnet masks, I started the setup in earnest. I followed the manual's instructions to the letter. I set the whole thing up perfectly. I told it to print a test page. I waited. I waited. I waited. I checked the settings. They were correct. I waited. Nothing happened. I waited. A light on our printer went on. Nothing happened. Goddamnit, what the motherfuck?

Several hours later, I was at exactly the same place--everything was set correctly, and everything seemed to be working, except for one crucial flaw: the printer wasn't printing. The computer seemed to be sending the information to the print server, which seemed to be relaying the information to the printer. The printer, in turn, would turn on the light indicating that it was processing data, then do nothing. Over and over again. I finally threw my hands in the air and we went to lunch. Then I had another idea about how to fix it, so I ran back to the office. But no dice--it was fucked.

The afternoon dragged on, and Mr. Vice decided it was time to link his business and personal bank accounts. Only the people on the phone were completely unable to make that happen and he ended up without access to any of his accounts. Great.

Then he tried to send a fax and we realized that, when we had decided not to get long-distance service on our office line, we completely forgot about the fact that we might have to send long-distance faxes. Needless to say that Mr. vice's attempts to send a fax out of the county failed. Fine. So I called up the phone company and asked them what the cheapest long-distance plan was. It was very reasonable, so I asked them to sign us up and asked them when we could expect the service to be available. They told me that it should be just a few minutes, definitely not more than a few hours.

Flash forward a few hours. We're getting ready to leave and decide it's time to send that fax. So I dial the number, the fax machine scans the pages, and then it beeps and just sits there. Nothing happens. I try it again. Nothing happens. Then I think "Hmm... I wonder." I pick up the phone and listen for a dial tone. To my shock, there isn't any. Somehow, instead of hearing "please sign us up for long distance," the phone company heard "This is an emergency! You have to cut off our phone service now! The very future of the world depends on it!"

Oh. And the battery on Mr. Vice's cell phone is having the same problem mine was having a few months ago--it's allowing him a grand total of about 3.62 seconds of talk time per charge. After charging all day, it started indicating that it was low on power almost immediately after he unplugged it.

We left the office, dejected. My ABS light was off.

Epilogue:
When I came home, I was determined to find out why the print server wasn't working. Here's what I found out. Our $200 copy machine-printer-fax machine-scanner, which is awesome in every other respects, will only work with one print server in the entire world. And that print server costs about $180, almost as much as the fucking printer itself. What the fuck is that?

Oh, and now my internet's not working, so I'm typing this in Notepad so that I can post it in the morning.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 9:11 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Funny Shit , Life Sucks Sometimes , The Law Firm

It's been almost nine years since I turned eighteen. That means that the two presidential elections I've been able to participate in were the same two that George W. Bush won. That's not a great track record, but what's even worse is that, while I voted for the Democratic candidate in both of those elections, I didn't really like either one of them. The best I could say was that I disliked Al Gore and John Kerry less than I disliked George W. Bush. Neither of the Democratic nominees in the past two elections has resonated with me. In fact, I can't think of a single candidate for any office in my entire life that's ever gotten me excited. That changed tonight.

Mr. Vice, pH, and I traveled down to Beloit tonight to see Barack Obama. In the past few weeks, I had become increasingly excited about Mr. Obama. His performance in the debates and the snippets I'd seen of his speeches made him seem like a guy with big ideas and solid plans to implement those ideas. Seeing him in person confirmed what I had hoped: Mr. Obama is a practical idealist. I love that he's not afraid to talk about big concepts like the American dream, hope, or the ideals the Founding Fathers believed in. I love that he things those basic concepts are still valid and, perhaps more importantly, relevant to today's problems. I love that he talks about working together to solve every obstacle this country faces. I love that he talks about seeing past the social and political constructs that make us different and recognizing, instead, the things that make us exactly the same.

But I love the fact that he's not naive just as much. Mr. Obama seems to recognize that nothing's going to get done simply by repeating some slogan over and over again. The man has ideals, but he knows that nothing will get accomplished without hard work, dedication, sacrifice, and compromise. He doesn't seem like a man who, if he doesn't get what he wants, will simply stamp his foot and repeat his demand over and over. Rather, he seems sophisticated--and open minded--enough to work with others, regardless of their political affiliation, to reach a mutually beneficial goal.

Just as important, though, is the fact that his ideals seem to match up almost completely with my own. He puts a high emphasis on education, but he also recognizes that education means more than vocational training. He made a point of mentioning art and music education in his speech tonight. That's awesome. He acknowledges his racial background, but he's refuses to be defined by it. It would be easy for him to exploit the fact that he's the first serious black presidential candidate, but he didn't. I respect that immensely. He reveres the Constitution, and he doesn't think that it's impossible to both protect ourselves and stay well within the realm of constitutionally permitted behavior.

But what impressed me most about Mr. Obama was his earnestness. Any Democratic candidate knows what to say to a crowd to get them fired up: universal health care, education, the environment, the Iraq War. It's not hard to know to mention these things or what positions to take--anyone who can read a poll knows those answers. But Mr. Obama made me believe that his words were prompted by more than a desire to garner votes. As far as I'm concerned, he says these things because he believes them. Maybe he's just a much more charismatic man than any of his opponents, or maybe he's just an amazing salesman, but--and I know this is corny--I believe in him.

And that's saying something. In the past eight years, I've met several different people from several different countries. And I'm sick of having to apologize for or attempt to explain George W. Bush. I'm sick of living in a country whose leader thinks that torturing people is in some way acceptable. I'm sick of the division in this country. I'm sick of what America has become in the time that I've had a political voice. I know this word's been completely played out in this campaign, but it's time for a change. And from where I'm sitting, Barack Obama's the real deal.

Honestly, he makes me proud to be an American again.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 12:33 AM | Permalink | Comments (6)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Fun Shit I've Done , Political Rants

Writers' strike notwithstanding, it's been evident for several years that Hollywood ran out of ideas several years ago. This is obvious because rather than bringing us new ideas, plots, and characters, they're instead repackaging things we loved when we were kids and claiming the thing is new and improved. More often than not, the producers of these "reimaginings" completely fail to understand what made the original thing awesome but, what's worse, think they understand exactly what will make the new thing awesomer. And, inevitably, what we get is some asshat's vision of something we've known and loved for years that is neither true to the original nor good enough to stand on its own. And the whole thing is just sad.

I loved Knight Rider when I was a kid. I mean, a talking, indestructible supercar that jumped over things on an almost constant basis? What's not to love when you're eight years old? The whole thing only gets cooler because I have a very distinct memory of talking about the show with my grandma--I remember very specifically talking about Michael and the car that talked. That's a really cool memory, as far as I'm concerned. I've watched some episodes of Knight Rider as an adult, and I have to say that the part of me that is still a little boy really enjoyed them. It's an hour-long stunt driving spectacular. And the car, even though it's really dated, is also really fucking awesome. David Hasselhoff is less awesome, but I can forgive him because, you know, he's Michael Knight.

So, I tuned in tonight to watch NBC's latest effort to squeeze the last possible pennies out of Generation-Y nostalgia. The new Knight Rider differs from the original in several respects. First, the car isn't a black Trans Am, it's a black Mustang. And they named the model on the show, something they never did on the original. Sure, KITT was a 1982 Pontiac Trans Am, but they never called it that. Whenever a character described it, they called it a "t-top," never a Trans Am. I prefer that to blatantly saying that the car is a Mustang and then having literally about ten minutes of the two-hour movie devoted to close-up shots of all the Mustang and Cobra insignia on the car. Lame. And, of course, the series seems to take a place in which Ford was the only company that won the Franchise Wars, so every other vehicle on the show is made by Ford. Double lame.

Second, although they kept the red scanner lights on the front, they've chosen to omit the classic "swoosh swoosh" scanning sound. That's just stupid. Third, the voice isn't Mr. Feeny, it's one of the worst Batmans. And it's strange because the car sounds more like a mix of Data and Mr. Spock from Star Trek than a witty snob. I don't really like it.

Third, KITT--short for Knight Industries Three Thousand this time around--is driven not by Michael Knight, but by Michael Knight, Jr., who's called Michael Traceur for some reason.

Fourth, the producers have also apparently done away with the girl-of-the-week thing and have given the protagonist one love interest. I guess that'll make for an interesting love angle to the whole thing, but it also suggests that they're going to take this thing way too seriously.

Finally, the other big difference--and the one that is most mind boggling--is the change to KITT and Michael's roving headquarters. Remember how in the original series, KITT would back out of a black semi onto the highway? Apparently that was way too believable--especially after Mythbusters proved it was a really easy stunt--so some idiot somewhere made the decision to kick it up a notch. Now, instead of a semi, KITT deploys out of--get this--a giant fucking carrier plane. Yup. A giant carrier plane using the highway as a runway. That's how KITT gets onto the streets. That's the lamest fucking thing since a time-traveling train.

As far as the actual movie, though, the plot was fine or whatever. It was about as incredible as you'd expect a show about an intelligent car to be. The whole thing was really a device to set up the planned series and to establish the car. Fine. But I seriously need someone to explain to me how the fuckers that wrote this thing couldn't fit even one turbo-boost scene into the movie. I mean, what the fuck. The car changes shapes (into other Mustangs), gets 147 mpg, is bulletproof and really, really fucking fast, but we can't get one scene where it jumps over a canyon or something? That's just lame. That's three for those of you playing along at home.

Anyway, I'm going to watch the series if it happens just because I don't have any other choice, really. But, seriously, I want to see this thing jump. If they've done away with the turbo-boost thing altogether, that could be a deal breaker.

Oh, and there was way too much CGI. Just way too much of it.

On another note, I watched the American Gladiators finale. It was fine or whatever, but I really, really, really hate Evan, the guy that won. His face is on crooked, and his nonstop positivity makes me want to murder him.

Also, am I the only one who thinks that Crush is kinda hot? Before you accuse me of being into women that might as well be men, though, check out her photo gallery at Maxim.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 12:58 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Television Reviews , Things I'm Irrationally Attached To

When I was a senior in high school, I was expelled because a girl in one of my classes accused me--falsely--of threatening to kill her, several other students, and a teacher. This girl and I did not get along. I thought she was arrogant and obnoxious. I'm sure she thought that and much worse things about me. On this particular morning, we were in homeroom, and the class was watching Channel One. I think that they were airing something about the shootings at Columbine High School. I remember being annoyed at the coverage and saying that I thought that various aspects of the story--for example, that the shooters listened to KMFDM and Marilyn Manson--were getting far too much attention. Some of the people in the area around me took issue with whatever it is that I said, and I responded in my usual fashion: I was an asshole about the whole thing.

I don't remember exactly what I said. I really cannot remember what words I used or what inflection I invoked. I know I wasn't stupid enough to say "I'm going to kill you," but I'm sure I was stupid enough to say something inflammatory that, in some other context, could have been taken as a threat. Whatever it is I said, though, I know I didn't make specific threats against students or teachers. In any event, the whole thing was so minor in my mind that I had completely forgotten about it later when school security pulled me out of one of my classes and took me to the principal's office. Once I got there, I tried to explain that the whole thing was a misunderstanding and that, while I certainly didn't like the girl, I hadn't threatened to kill her or anyone else and that whatever I had said was meant as a joke.

The principal--and the girl's father--wouldn't listen. In some ways, I can't blame them. I was a fairly strange sort of kid. I wore black almost exclusively. I listened to Marilyn Manson and wore the band's t-shirts to school all the time. I wasn't very popular. My two best friends and I owned and wore black leather trench coats. In short, I was, on some levels, a walking stereotype. While it would be irresponsible for school administrators to ignore a complaint of a death threat in any context, I can understand why they might have thought that an accusation against me was particularly credible. In addition, the girl that accused me was popular and attractive. And her parents were well-known and respected figures in the community.

All of this meant that the principal decided to expel me--even though the teachers I had allegedly threatened spoke out in my defense (one of them in a tearful meeting with the principal) and the police (who searched my bedroom) found nothing to suggest that I was anything more dangerous than a typical angry teenager or that I might use to carry out the threats I was accused of making (I've never owned any weapon more dangerous than a Swiss Army knife).

Eventually, the whole thing blew over, and I was allowed to go back to school and march with my graduating class. But the entire experience has stayed with me, and I think about it every time that something like what happened today at Northern Illinois University happens. School shootings--which are happening with at a rate that is just really, really scary--make me feel two very different and very hard to reconcile emotions.

On the one hand, when the stories about these shooters come out--as they always do--there are things there that I might identify with. I was teased. I wasn't popular with girls. I wore lots of black. But I don't identify with these shooter's decision to take their anger and frustration out on other people. I know that even in my darkest, most lonely, angry, depraved moments, I've never seriously considered harming myself or others. I can't imagine the series of events that would lead me to take a gun to school and open fire on a roomful of strangers. Such a series of events does not exist. I'd never do that, and I'm fairly certain that the people who know me well now and knew me well in high school know that. So it makes me angry that I was singled out--at least in part because of my appearance and who I associated with--as someone who might be capable of that sort of thing. It makes me angry because that is so far from who I am.

But, on the other hand, while I have never been dangerous, there are a lot of people like me who, unfortunately, are. In my case, the girl's accusation lead to a huge inconvenience. In some other case, though, an accusation like that might lead to the prevention of another terrible incident. So I understand why the administration took the accusation as seriously as they did, even if I didn't at the time.

The news today reminded me about all of this, and then I got a sort of meta emotion. I realized that I had been reminded of my high-school expulsion far too often as of late.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 1:11 AM | Permalink | Comments (8)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Goddamnit , Horribly Inappropriate Things I've Said , Rants on the News

Some people say that college is the best time of your life. In a lot of ways, I think that's complete bullshit. There are a lot of things about being an adult that I think are going to be awesome, assuming I ever actually grow up. First and foremost on that list is not just financial independence, but full-out financial success. I'm not one of those people that's obsessed with money, but I'd love to be able to live comfortably and afford various luxuries. That was not something I could do in college. It's not something I can do now, either. But I'm holding out hope that, someday, I'll be well-off enough to, for example, go to Europe for a couple of weeks.

Also, college is school. So there's studying and tests and classes and all of that general crap. I have lots of friends who wish they could go to school professionally, but I find the whole thing exhausting. The last time I had a "real" job was the summer before my last year of law school, and it was awesome to come home at 6 or so every night and just not think about anything. When I wasn't in the office, I wasn't thinking about work. Now that we're starting our own office, there's a lot of stuff to keep track of and worry about, so my evening hours aren't as stress free. But I make sure to get whatever I wanted to get done before 5 because after that, my mind's closed for the evening. But with school, there's always studying or writing or reading or whatever the hell else to do. It never ends. And it's an ever-present concern. At least that's what law school was like--even in moments of quiet reflection, there always seemed like there was another thing to worry about or that there was something else I should be doing.

Still, the assertion that college is the best time of your life seems eminently plausible in other respects. College--for me, and at least as compared to law school--was relatively stress free. Yeah, I went to classes and handed in papers, but I was never up until 4am working on a paper or studying for a test. Well, that's not true, but I did it very, very rarely.

And what's more, it's almost as if it was generally accepted that fun was more important than anything else. Yeah, there were times when school and various other responsibilities took precedence, but someone was almost always up for a movie, a game of disc golf, a drive around the Lake Mary off-road loop, beer pong or something. No one was married, no one had real jobs, no one had kids. Something was always happening, and there was very little keeping people from doing things.

Part of it, too, was the people. And not just the people I considered my closet friends--a group of people just smart enough to allow for extremely interesting conversations but not arrogant enough to be unable to laugh at themselves--but the sort of background characters, too. I mean, it seemed like there was a new character every week. There was always someone completely ridiculous around--people to whom the normal laws of society and physics just didn't seem to apply. Whether they were fighting moving trains and surviving or attaching potato canons to A-Team-style vans, there were just so many different kinds of people around that it was almost never boring.

I've been thinking a lot lately about whether college was the best part of my life. I think that it definitely has been so far, and that makes me sort of sad. It's not that I'm not happy where I am, it's just that it's kind of depressing to realize that the funnest part of your life is over. I mean, I'm sure that having a family and whatever else is going to be fun on some level, but I just don't see how it'll be as much pure, unadulterated gleeful joy as dragging a sled behind my car at 40 mph or watching your friend bound across a highway embankment and scale a ten-foot fence just to get to In-n-Out Burger a few minutes sooner. And I'll probably never sit in a poorly ventilated room smoking hand-rolled cigarettes listening to Doolittle until dawn again.

And that's fine, of course, because if I did do those things now, I'd be even more of a loser than I already am. And my lungs would hate me.

But maybe that's what makes me sad--I'm concerned about appearances and my lungs. And my general safety and, you know, my future.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 2:14 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Fun Shit I've Done , Life Sucks Sometimes

Yes, after weeks of having a chairless office, we now have somewhere to sit. It's really pretty awesome--our office is looking more and more like a real office every day. We also had a networking event today where we handed out a bunch of our business cards (we have those, too) and met a bunch of the other lawyers in town. They all seemed pretty nice.

In fact, the only thing our office is really missing right now is clients . . . Oh, wait! We got a call today from the public defender's office assigning us more cases! So, actually, we have clients now, too. In addition, of course, to the clients we had on our own separately before.

So, all in all, things are looking pretty good right now. Assuming our appointments keep ramping up and we start getting some nonappointed cases, things should go just fine.

On a side note, I've never had business cards before. But now I do, and it's awesome. I basically want to give everyone I see my business card. I want to give random people on the street the card. I want to mail one to my mom. I'm dropping them in every free-lunch raffle I see. I'm going to burn through these things.

So, there you go.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 9:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , The Law Firm

Butterflyfish tagged me for this meme, so you should check out her blog.

Here are the rules:
Post about the meme and link back to the person who tagged you and go back to your archives and link to your five favorite posts.
Link One: must be about family
Link Two: must be about friends
Link Three: must be about yourself
Link Four: must be about something you love
Link Five: can be anything you choose

Family: Because I haven't seen any member of my family since graduation--the longest I've ever gone--I'm sort of preoccupied right now by how much I miss them. So I thought this post about how Christmas and family go hand in hand was appropriate.

Friends: I was looking through the page for the "Hanging Out With My Friends" category looking for a good post to link to here, and this one caught my eye. It's not that I like my college friends more than my law-school friends, it's that the story of how I felt like I was going to die on an eleven-mile hike exemplifies how lucky I've been in terms of friends. I've had people who've always been there for me and who literally wouldn't abandon me to a cold night in the woods. And I've also been lucky enough to have some completely unforgettable experiences which were made all the more extraordinary given the great company I've always managed to keep.

Myself: This one seems about right. It's me being sad about girls but refusing to change and attempting to validate myself. Good times, great oldies.

Something I Love: I get a lot of grief for loving The Smashing Pumpkins as much as I do. Here's a brief attempt to explain why I think they're so awesome.

Anything I Want: I find myself in fairly ridiculous situations pretty often. I think this post captures one of those moments pretty well.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 3:32 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)| Filed under Quiz Things

Yes, seeing as how it's February, I decided that it was about time to put up a new poll. Unfortunately, I can't tell you the results of the old poll because the website seems to be down. Still, that prompted me to look around for a better poll generator, and I think I found a good one with a better look and interface. Still, I'll let you know if I'm ever able to find out what you guys hate most about the holidays.

In the meantime, the new poll, as suggested by the Expat, asks why you have your particular job. If you have your job for a reason other than the ones I've listed, let me know.

As for me, I chose "I love it." Now, since I'm only on the verge of having a job, I think I have to qualify that answer. See, like I've said, I really didn't want to do criminal law at all. But now that I've had some marginal amount of experience with it, I actually really like it. And I think that I'll only like it more once I start having more serious cases. And I know I'm going to love trying cases, assuming I ever get to do that.

And I also really love the whole thing where I'm my own boss. That's a definite upside to having our own firm. Of course, it's not very lucrative right now. But hopefully that'll change. So, assuming that I'm able to make a decent living doing what I'm doing, I'll be doing what I love, and that's a rare thing.

So what do you guys think?

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 3:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Polls , The Law Firm

Scene One: Finally!
We find our protagonist shoveling the sidewalk for the second time that day. Being from a state with a warm climate, this whole "shoveling snow" thing is new to him. And he doesn't like it. Not one bit. His mind is focused on one thought: if it wasn't for the phone company, he'd be at home right now. And he'd be warm and dry. Instead he's cold and wet because of the snow. But then, after seven hours of waiting, the phone rings and, yes, it is the phone company. They are on their way. The ordeal will be over within the hour.

Joy floods our protagonist's heart. The phone guy arrives, he fixes everything, the office is connected to the outside world, and our protagonist embarks on a harrowing journey through over a foot of snow.

Scene Two: The White Stuff
Our protagonist, still reveling in his recent victory over the phone company in a seemingly endless battle of the wills, drives past countless cars mired by thick road-side snow. Sedans cower before our protagonist's mighty four-wheel-drive vehicle.

Our protagonist grins.

Scene Three: Don't Give People Too Much Credit
Our protagonist grimaces. His ride, while mighty, requires much fuel. He stops at a filling station and goes inside--he has to pay with cash because his bank is run by incompetent chimps. As the clerk rings him up, our protagonist catches a glimpse of the cash register's screen. It instructs the clerk: "Put money in the drawer. Then close the drawer." Just as our protagonist is thinking "Seriously? What kind of an idiot needs to be told that?," the clerk takes his money, then closes the drawer, then is momentarily confused by what to do with the money, which is still in her hand.

Our protagonist grins again.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 11:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Funny Shit

At least one of the reasons that I'm excited about starting up our own business is the fact that, at least theoretically, I'll be able to set my own hours. I say "theoretically" because I'm pretty sure that once we have a good amount of business, we'll end up working pretty much normal business hours, anyway. I know that it's hard for me to motivate myself to do work after 5pm. And, of course, we'll have to go to court and meet with clients, and we can't very well do either of those things at 11pm. Still, whenever those concerns aren't in play, I should have the flexibility to decide that I want to get an early start one day or stay in bed a little longer the next, as long as I'm sure I'll be able to get everything done.

So why, then, did I have to wake up at 7am this morning and drive--through the ice and snow--to the office? I did that because, as it turns out, our phone company is evil. You see, when I spoke to someone last Friday to get the ball rolling on our phone service, the guy on the phone told me that our phone would be ready no later than Wednesday but that he was sure it would get done on Monday and that, if it wasn't, he'd call me and let me know. Flash forward to Tuesday. Mr. Vice and I arrive at our office with shiny new office equipment including, obviously, phones (still no chairs, though--we're open to taking donations). So we plug in our fancy new phone and--surprise!--no dial tone.

So I call up the phone company and ask them what gives. Turns out, no, we don't get phone till Wednesday. That's fine, but then I realized that the previous occupants of our office did some really fancy wiring with their phones and that the millions of phone jacks in our walls might all be on different extensions, so we have to make sure that all of them go to our one number (multiple lines are for the big boys). So now we have to pay an exorbitant fee to have some guy come into our office and check out the wiring and, what's worse, someone has to be here when the guy shows up. Mr. Vice had court this morning, so it fell to me to show up. And, of course, in classic crappy company fashion, the phone company couldn't give me a more precise estimate on when the guy would show up than "sometime between 8 and 12." And then when I called up this morning to make sure the guy was still coming despite the ice and snow, the guy I spoke to said "well, I don't know who you talked to, but he could be there anywhere between 8 and 4:30." Awesome.

Thank god for free municipal wireless internet or I'd be going insane.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 11:11 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Rants About Things That Make Me Irrationally Angry

So, like I said before, I want to get out and play some open-mic nights sometime this year. The first thing I have to do in order to do that is to create a setlist, so I've been listening for some good songs that could be arranged for one guitar. It's generally easy to play a version of a song that's recognizable regardless of what the original instrumentation was, but it's often difficult to keep all of the important elements while removing all but one instrument and still put your own spin on the thing.

I've done some vaguely risky songs in the past. For example, regardless of what Mr. Morenononsense says, I think it's possible to do a good version of "Tonight, Tonight" with only one guitar. And I think I've done that. From what I remember, there was at least one guy in the audience that thought I did a decent job. He screamed when he recognized the song, anyway.

I think I was less successful when I did a version of Pearl Jam's "Black," although I think it was due more to the fact that I had decided to play and learn that song about an hour before I performed it than with the fact that my voice sounds nothing like Eddie Vedder's--I don't think you have to sound like the original singer to do a good cover.

I probably had the most fun playing "We're Going to Be Friends" by the White Stripes, though, at least partly because it's not a typical bar song. That's by far my favorite White Stripes song--it's the only one I listen to now that I've decided that the White Stripes suck--and it was cool to get up and play a pretty mellow, cheerful, sweet song like that. I think people liked it, too.

As an aside, it's also probably important to remember the words and structure of the song. And knowing all the guitar parts is good, too. Although my rendition of "El Scorcho"--during which I stopped halfway through and explained the song rather than played it--suggests that it might be entertaining for someone to completely forget what they're doing on occasion. Or maybe the audience was just padded with my friends. Whatever.

In any event, I've been keeping my ears open for a good song to cover. I specifically want to avoid what you guys have seen me do here, which is take an upbeat song and slow it down and do it all in acoustic guitars. So, I think I found a good song to work with. Here's the video:

Yup, that's Van Halen. I think the heart of the song is the vocal melody rather than a guitar riff or chord progression. That means that it'll be recognizable in stripped-down form. It's also a song people have heard, so that's a plus. And no one would miss the guitar solo since, surprisingly, it's a rather unobtrusive part of the song. And it begs to be an up-tempo affair. But most importantly, it's a rather ridiculous song, so I could do it either ironically or seriously, although I'd lean towards doing it with a straight face. And if I fuck up, I could always just play it off like I was doing an ironic version.

So what do you guys think? Any suggestions?

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 1:35 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Fun Shit I've Done , Music Reviews , The Lovers of Sight and Sound

As I've said, I'm new to the whole "caring about football" thing. Still, last night's game as awesome. Or, well, the fourth quarter was awesome. And, actually, the rest of the game was much more exciting than the score might suggest.

I was rooting for the Giants for a few reasons. First of all, I hate the Patriots. I hate the Patriots because the fucking media seems to be unable to stop themselves from felating Brady and Co. They are an amazing team, Brady is an amazing quarterback--even I can see that. But do we really need to mention it at every possible turn? It's unacceptable. Second, I love seeing cocky assholes fail at perfection. While I recognize that having an undefeated season is definitely something to be happy about, I found it extremely annoying that no one seemed to take any of the Patriots' opponents seriously and that everyone took it as a foregone conclusion that they'd go 19-0. Seeing them fail to do that put a smile on my face. Finally, I was rooting for the Giants because everyone seems to forget that this is the season where the Patriots were caught blatantly cheating. Everyone responds that "everyone does it." Well, that may or may not be true, but even if it is, the Patriots were caught. They were fucking caught doing something that is clearly against the rules. How anyone can take any of the Patriots' accomplishments this season seriously frankly baffles me. The entire season is tainted, as far as I'm concerned. And besides, who doesn't like rooting for an underdog? So I was glad to see the Giants win in such spectacular fashion.

Of course, there are always two other things to discuss after the Super Bowl: the commercials and the half-time show.

In this case, there were a lot of mediocre commercials, and a few standouts in either direction. I think the funniest one was the FedEx one involving the pigeons. I also really enjoyed most of the Bud Light ones, especially the one claiming that Bud Light gives you the ability to breathe fire. There were also some terrible ones, including the ones for CareerBuilder.com, which were just gross and disturbing. But the absolute worst one was the post-apocalyptic Under Armor one. That one was just overblown and stupid.

As for the half-time show, I'm torn as to whether I liked it more than last year's. While I greatly prefer Tom Petty's music to Prince's, Mr. Petty's performance was extremely boring. It was lethargic and lazy. There was absolute no energy. It sucked the life right out of the room I was watching from. It made everyone tired. That's not good. The songs themselves were superior, but mid-tempo ballads are hardly the thing you're in the mood for in the middle of an exciting football game. Still, Prince sucks really hard, so I'm going to say this one was better, but marginally.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 10:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Music Reviews , Television Reviews

For whatever reason, my friend and former MBE D-Will decided last year to invite people to stand on one of Madison's frozen lakes and drink during what is statistically the coldest weekend of the year. It was a small event attended by a few people, including myself. This year, the Ice Bender tradition was kept alive and, in fact, grew. Several luminaries were in attendance, including the illustrious pH, the accomplished ShakenNeighborSyndrome, and the preeminent tRJ. So that's where I spent today--on a frozen lake in the freezing cold drinking lots of beer.

Being from Arizona, the entire concept of standing on the frozen surface of a lake is foreign to me. The first time I did it, I was completely certain that I was going to fall in. I was no less certain today. And I was completely baffled by a fellow Ice Bender's suggestion that, next year, we start a fire on the ice. I don't care what physics says about heat rising, that just sounds like a terrible idea.

Still, the whole Ice Bender idea is great because it's retarded. While there were people who just wanted to see how long they could stay out there, I had no interest in doing that--I just went for the experience and the company. And that's something that I really enjoyed. I know D-Will from Law Review, which has been a subject that I've been hesitant to talk about or even think about since my involvement with it ended. By the end of the whole thing, I was so frustrated and angry that I was ready to pretend I had never been involved with it. And I knew that a lot of Law Review members, past and present, were going to be there today. People I hadn't seen in a long time. I was sort of apprehensive.

But, as it turns out, today was the first time that I was able to talk about Law Review without being angry about the whole experience. I was able to remember why I ran for my position in the first place and whatnot. So I enjoyed that.

Of course, I also enjoyed all the High Life minis. I don't know what it is, but beer tastes better when it comes from a miniature container.

So I'm ready to call the second annual Ice Bender a success, as I'm sure the host is. I'll post the pictures I took, and, D-Will, if you're out there, e-mail me the ones you got.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 1:10 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Fun Shit I've Done , Law School , Wisconsin Law Review

This whole "starting our own law firm" thing really freaks me the fuck out. I think it should be pretty obvious why: starting a business is a massive undertaking in its own right, and the fact that we're novices to the whole profession only makes it more daunting. I have to admit that I was so freaked out by the whole thing that I couldn't commit to it for a while. But then I did. Sometimes you make a decision and you instantly know that you fucked it up. Sometimes you make a decision and you know right away that it was perfect. Sometimes it takes a while to figure it out.

I was in court this morning and, while I obviously won't discuss what happened there, I have to say that, as I was walking away from the courthouse, I had a moment of clarity where I knew that the decision we made--to go out on our own--was the right one.

I was afraid that I would hate criminal-law work, mostly because I've never really had an interest in it. But, fortunately, I'm finding that I really like it. I like having the one-on-one client contact, and I like that my clients refer to me as "my lawyer." I like that my clients are people with real problems, rather than companies looking to move their money around. There's honor in that work, certainly, but I love having human clients.

And I also love being in court, even if I haven't done anything too exciting yet. There's going to be a day when all of this is old hat, but right now I love the fact that I had something to do in the court building on about half of the days in the last two weeks, even if I wasn't actually in court and on the record all of those times.

Where the actual business is concerned, things are coming together and, within a week or so, we will have all of the affectations of a real law firm--business cards, an address, chairs. Oh, and a bank account or two.

I won't make six figures this year. And I probably won't next year or the year after that. But I might. It's possible, anyway. And it really doesn't matter to me, as long as I can pay my bills. What I care about is that I'm enjoying my work. I'm enjoying the responsibility. In short, I'm enjoying being a lawyer. It could be that I'd have enjoyed it just as much if I had gotten a job at an established firm. But that didn't happen. And right now, I'm glad it didn't.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 2:03 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)| Filed under Existential Nonsense