Million Dollar Baby

I definitely know now that I can't appreciate tragedies. Life is a tragedy, so why should I seek out extra-tragedy in fiction? Million Dollar Baby was a fabulously fantastic movie, and yet it kind of sucked. I wept through the entire last third. It's not so much about realizing dreams and overcoming adversity, as you would think a boxing movie would be (the Rocky 1, 2, 3, and 4 precedent), but it's more about family relationships, redemption, and taking one last risk with your heart. Without giving away too much (as if there's anyone who is a more belated movie-watcher than me), I will say that that the slogan, "I don't train girls" is more weighted, and less sexist, than you might think.

Ebay Item #4760324949: The Crystals "(Let's Dance) The Screw" Phil Spector

I found this great bit of history on eBay. Current bid? $1,525.00 (reserve not met). This why I love everything (except murder) about Phil Spector, man and myth:

Easily the most infamous (7") 45rpm in Phil Spector's long and impressive catalog. Less than five copies are known to exist. One of rock & roll's rarest 45's. 

Philles Records started as a patnership between Phil Spector and Lester Sill, the "les" in Philles, and Spector's hit-making magic proved successful from the start as seen with the Crystals' "He's A Rebel" and "He's Sure The Boy I Love." Spector, for obvious reasons, wished to reap exclusively the financial benefits from his studio efforts and sought to buy out Sill's portion of the label. His only problem- under contract he owed Sill one more single by the Crystals. What to do...ah, release a Crystals single that had absolutly no commercial potential, hence, "(Let's Dance) the Screw." Philles Records #111 D.J. Copy.

For obvious reasons, radio stations were leery of playing a song with such a politically incorrect title; also, the record clearly a lackluster effort designed for failure and the duration of the single, nearly six minutes for each side, sealed its fate. 

This record is authentic and I will guarantee it. I have owned this gem for over 30 years. Only now am I ready to pass the torch. A piece worthy of the world's finest record collections, this is an amazing opportunity to own a museum-quality record. 

Good Manners

When someone offers you something out of courtesy, it's good manners to accept. That's my opinion. This neighborhood is well-mannered. I've had three delivery people come by so far, and when I offered them some water, all three of them said "thank you" and accepted.

Difference between College Town and Suburb - Sex Offender Edition

I was (a tad) relieved when I did a Megan's Law search in my quiet suburban neighborhood and found that most of the registered sex offenders were child molesters. That percentage goes down drastically when I search my new college neighborhood. A mere one-fourth, instead of the approximately 80%. That means that the age of the average offender goes down drastically, too. I guess if you're going to commit sexual assault (the most popular crime here - yikes!), you can't be a sextagenarian (pun). To the credit of my new neighborhood, or to the damnation of my old, the sex-offender-per-capita ratio here is much lower...or maybe the area covered by my zip code is smaller. I can't tell. All I know is that my new abode is more densely populated, but the number of sex offenders is roughly the same.

I reminded myself just now of an old Conan joke:
It is rumored that Sean Connery may be starring again in a new James Bond movie. The name of that movie will be "Octagenarian Pussy."

"Made in Downtown L.A."

Apparently this is the marketing plan that's supposed to be a slam-dunk for American Apparel. One problem: have they ever seen Downtown L.A.? Well, they're right in saying that the sweatshop problem is pretty much under control there, but they've neglected to mention that it's also a homeless man's toilet. So pick your poison. Or pick a different catch-phrase.

Chump Next Door Paying for Wireless Internet

An Onion headline from way back. It's funnier now that it's true.

I had a strange dream last night about the OC

I had a strange dream last night about the OC. Technically, it was a dream about The OC, the TV show, but it was a beautiful dreamscape (hence, strange that it would come in the TV show package…), more nearly resembling the place embodied in my heart’s desire. In my dream’s TV show, the emphasis was not on the ironic comedy or the voyeurism into the white nouveau riche socialite culture – which don’t get me wrong, are precisely what keep bringing me back every Thursday night – but instead, it was about the terrible majesty of the ocean, Salty Mother of Life, and the terrible ache of first love – albeit in the unlikely actors of Ryan and Marissa. In this dream, I think I was Marissa.

I was listening to Purple Rain last night as I was falling asleep, and to one phrase in particular: “I could never steal you from another.” I thought, what a perfect expression of true love; the refusal to strive for the beloved as an object or a conquest, as is the wont of lovers; the abject fear one feels for an august beloved, when the love is overwhelming and sincere (because it’s my belief that we can never engage in relationships with people unless we despise them just a little; that is the difference between love and relationships, between childish idealism and adult pragmatism); and above all, the absolute subjugation of one’s will to the true happiness of the beloved. “I could never steal you from another.” The philosopher Bang recently wrote that no love is unconditional or unselfish; and though I agree on the unconditional part, I know that there is such a thing as unselfish love. That was the story of my first love, to much of my gnashing of teeth, I could never steal him, because it was almost like I didn’t want him. And though since then I have loved just as blindly and as idiotically as I did when I was 15, that was the one time I loved unselfishly.

Imagine my joy when I encountered that feeling again in my dream! True, I was in (tacky) character. I can only describe that joy as being like that of the father in the parable, who receives his prodigal son. My Marissa character was in love with the Ryan character in this total abnegation of self, and in my dream, I saw myself making again all the helpless blunders I made when I was new at relationships, and fervently in love – before I learned all love must fade, and before I grasped that simple Newtonian law that what goes up must come down. For example, I told him exactly how I felt, and I formed expectations. It was a little painful to watch – but oh! it felt wonderful to let go.

Beaches in Orange County are far more beautiful than the beaches in Los Angeles, and they have none of that personality you see them with on The OC. Actually, they have a little bit of that personality, because it’s true that, say, Newport is crawling with pretty-boy yuppies and their sissy female counterparts. But the important thing – and this is my point – is that all these peripheral people get washed away into the background noise once you feel the ocean, and the only thing filling your consciousness is the surge of your primordial life. This is the real glamour of the OC; it’s the OC I met in my dream, and the one I miss. In my dream, I was standing under a pier with my beloved (saying stupid things like, “Please be there for me”) while enormous waves, hill-sized, washed over the beams above us, and trickled in at our feet. Enormous waves that never broke (presumably, a person could surf on one forever). We should have been swallowed by these waves, but instead, we stood watching them, protected, as if they were in an aquarium.

Oh, yall are so fickle

I know I haven't posted in a while, but that doesn't give you the right to ditch me! Well, if it helps, I probably won't be getting back on the internet until tomorrow evening...more likely Monday, judging from the time it's taking my landlord to finish painting my apartment. Can you believe that it took him two whole days to paint 3.5 walls? At this rate my place won't be ready for, say, the next 20 days.

The Saddle Ranch, Sunset

Wild weekend. Two-dollar happy hour (menu includes big beefy cheeseburgers and fries; at McCormick and Schmick's), hot tubbing + new batch of jokes (bonus!), beach + chicken fight (my team won 2/2 rounds), and...Saddle Ranch!

What makes the Saddle Ranch so exciting? Well, the mechanical bull would be a given. Besides that, there more beautiful women than you could squeeze through - including three or four bachelorette parties - great company, and the SEXIEST goddamn waitstaff I ever did see. Hold up, one might ask, why would you want there to be scads and scads of beautiful women? Well, I feel that it creates a very healthy party environment - an illusion that everyone is having fun, and, in theory, a magnet for equally attractive men; and most importantly, people like me get left the hell alone, except when it's invited and welcome attention.

My heart got a little crack when I saw the guy who was operating the mechanical bull. He was blond and sculpted and hunky, and looked so much like my Swedish boyfriend last summer that it hurt; except perhaps better-looking, because he had the American dental work; but I'm sure he wasn't half as decent and thoughtful as my bf was, because no one can be. Then I thought I should ask this old flame to move to the US to be with me...until I remembered that a year in this country would probably turn him into an asshole just like the rest of them.

* * *

What's the difference between an epileptic corn farmer and a prostitute with the runs?

One of them shucks between fits.

I've figured out why relationships always fail

for me: I have a neurotic personality that more or less overwhelms me as an entity. The only people who would put up with it are those who cherish romantic notions of being a knight in shining armor and rescuing a dark and troubled soul and turning this soul's life around...in short, people who dream of changing me...in shorter, tools and wankers. All the ones who aren't tools and wankers stick around long enough to observe that I won't be changed, and then it's "C-ya!" faster than you can say Bob's your uncle.

I guess I can respect that (which is part of the problem).

Depression - Part Summer

I've suspected that I may be depressed again this week because I've been utterly unable to concentrate with my studies. But then I thought, "Nah, what do I have to be depressed about?" and attributed it to sheer laziness, and the slacker instinct that comes when you surf every other day.

But last night I went to sleep pretty early and got up really, really late. That always tells me for sure that I must be depressed. The oversleeping- without fatigue - is usually one of the first, and surest, indicators for me.

Then it occurred to me how nice it is to be depressed over the summer. Having no urgent tasks, I don't really lose anything by not studying and not being able to concentrate. The consequences are so light that I didn't even notice that I was depressed. So call it an upside.

* * *

By the by, I went to see the King Tut exhibit at the LACMA with my parents last Tuesday. I may write more about it later, as much of it was very beautiful. But a quick FYI: don't be fooled by the publicity campaign, because the famous sarcophagus is not allowed to leave Egypt.

In the Year 2000 - The Mr. T. Edition

Gas prices will get so high they will start hanging out with Snoop Dogg.

Israelis will finally withdraw from Gaza, but not before contracting Gazarrhea.

Britney Spears will announce that she is going into labor. Upon hearing this, Kevin Federline will run away, thinking "labor" means work.

Scary, but Mesmerizing

www.meganslaw.ca.gov
(or search for megan's law and your state)

Shortboarding

kicked my ass. I'm pooped.

March of the Penguins

One of the better movies I've seen in the theaters. A little boring (documentary, after all) and an little melodramatic (French, after all) but it had its effect because I did find it touching.

Those Crafty Sons of Bitches

I've said it before and I'll say it again: as much as I hate Republicans, I have to admit that they're brilliant. Brilliant and so fucking Satanic. I just read an article in the LA Times about how the Republicans are putting a measure on California's special elections ballot this November that will prohibit unions from making political contributions without express permission from their members.

1. Of course this will sound good to voters who belong to unions. "This puts the power, and the sweet cash, back into my hands," they say. "Why should I let others decide for me what cause I support? I can make contributions at my own discretion." Of course, they won't stop to consider that a larger union has more political clout than their $25/year will have by itself.

2. Conservatives, traditionally not in unions, will vote to pass the measure because it will weaken the opposition. First and foremost, the Democratic party, since this is the side unions usually support/agree with ideologically. Plus, once unions are required to get members' permission - precedent has shown - the overall funds available to the unions for political contributions will diminish greatly. I think I read that after a similar measure passed in a different state, a mere 6% of the teachers' union chose to pay dues for political causes. So with one fell blow: less power to the unions; less power to the Democrats; party for the Republicans.

3. So this leaves a small population of non-unions liberals like me who will vote against this measure, in the interest of the greater good and the health of the two-party system. Naturally, we're going to feel a little bad about telling union members what to do with their money. Thus, as we get hissed at by groups (1) and (2) above for that very reason, we will wonder why a proposal like this should even appear on the state ballot, instead of remaining an issue to be decided by the unions' internal organization.

It's the diabolical genius of the Republicans, that's why. How can we fight fire with fire, and convince THEIR constituency to vote against their own interests? Something to mull over.

Considerations of a Rabid Liberal

My recent political posts have been a pretty solid wall of fury at this country's right (though again, I'm sure no one cares what I think), so I thought I'd take the time to review some points in which I surprised myself by sympathizing with Republicans. There was, of course, the Schiavo controversy a few months back. But lately there's been a lot of talk about anti-war agitation, which don't get me wrong, is good because it's at least opening some debate; and as I was listening to both sides, I noticed that the Republicans - in spite of all their stupid Bush-is-the-Second-Coming rhetoric - may actually have a point.

Let me first state that I'm about as anti-war as they come, generally; in principle, I'm a pacifist, because I don't think there are many occassions that are worth the terrible costs of war, instead of diplomacy. My one exception, pretty much, is WWII. I was totally against the Iraq war up until the day they captured Hussein. On that day I groaned and thought, "Now we're stuck with this foreign policy nightmare for the next twenty years, and we'll have to bear all the costs of rebuilding Iraq."

I thought I was thinking what everyone else in this country was thinking, but I guess I should have known better. All this anti-war stuff that's sprouting up NOW has convinced me that the long-term consequences of the war must have occurred to precisely NONE of its supporters. To withdraw our forces now - when there's a complete political vacuum, and bombs are going off by the hour, and chidren are exposed to all kinds of violence/corpses on the streets/extremist demagogues/poverty/death - is not only unethical and irresponsible, but it's also totally foolish where our own self-preservation is concerned. My God, if I were an Iraqi kid living in that kind of world, the idea of holy wars against the US would be starting to sound about right to me, too.

In sum, the conservatives are right in saying that we have to finish the job we started, in the interest of national security. But, the liberals are also right to point out that our national security is more vulnerable post-Iraq. THAT'S WHY WE SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT OF ALL THIS BEFORE WE STARTED THE WAR. I further agree with the Republicans that the Democratic party is kind of retarded, because yes, we did have a certain number of tools in Congress who voted to go to war. If we're going to oppose the insanity and delusion that is the Bush regime with any success, we're going to have to present a more unified front than that.

Finally, with all that having been said, my heart still goes out to the soldiers who are dying in Iraq. It's a real tragedy. Nevertheless, I can't say with the rest of my anti-war collegues that it's time to bring them home. The quickest way out of Iraq would be to prop up a sympathetic dictatorship, like we did in the South American countries (not to mention, ahem, Hussein); but even then, all the political turmoil in those places shows us how well that worked. A constitutional government would be nice, but it's going to take a long, long, long time. How long? Probably as long as it took Palestine to elect a diplomatic prime minister by a majority vote.

The Crew

Not a bad movie. It's a geriatric mob comedy, about a bunch of has-beens in Miami. Lots of old people humor, and mobster gags, and big band jazz. I caught it on accident on TV. Why is it that the worst movies I've ever seen are always the ones I see in the theaters, on purpose?

The Terminator was also playing on TV tonight. Kyle is such a hottie...miraculously enough for 1984. He doesn't look stupid or dated, like Sarah Connor does. It's odd.

If They Mated

Dave and Buster's has a photo booth that does what Conan's "If They Mated" sketch does: it takes pictures of two people and generates an image of what their child would look like. Except that D&B's version is less jokey, as one might imagine.

I noticed the photo booth because there was a TV moniter over it, and on the TV moniter was a real-life woman posing. "Look, I think those are the people inside the booth," I said, pointing to the TV, and then to the legs that were peeping out under the curtain.

My friend DJ (male) and I stopped to watch. The woman took her picture. Then the camera moved onto her boyfriend, who was kind of a punked-out version of Keanu Reeves (we determined later).

DJ (male, straight): Hey, that guy's kind of cute.
ME: Yeah, he's really cute.
GUY ON MONITER: [starts laughing]

"Shit, he heard us!" DJ and I were doubled over with mirth (and embarassment).

The Skeleton Key - Prediction

No need to go see this movie. The commercials say that it's an extraordinary thriller with a surprising twist, like Rosemary's Baby, the Others, and the Sixth Sense.

Okay, then. Kate Hudson is the ghost. Duh.

Nerd's Joke on Conan

[Place: Stargate SG-1 convention.]

HUGE NERD: I have a running joke. I always say that with all these fans it ought to be cool here.

Ha! Not only a pun, but (like the Onion's Bush on Vergil's minor works joke) it's funny because it's not true. Plus, nerds are funny regardless.

Why We Liberals Are Losing

There was an article today in nytimes.com about how a pro-choice group called Naral is running an ad denouncing John Roberts for arguing against an abortion clinic's right to seek anti-discrimination protection from vigilante groups, whose activities include bombing. Naral is attracting some harsh criticism for misrepresenting the facts and failing to make clear the various nuances and subtleties concerning Roberts' involvement with this case.

I haven't seen the ad and therefore can't judge how misleading it is, but I have to ask: isn't this the kind of thing that the Republican party has always excelled in? How else did they win the elections if not by oversimplification, sensationalism, and patronizing? And yet, the Democrats will never get away with playing by those self-same rules...because of immediate opposition, not from the right, but from their own ranks. One of the minuses to being (traditionally) the party of the intellectuals is that your peoples will scrutinize everything, and put a stop to an obvious dirty trick. Of course, the other minus is that we then lose elections.

The right will be quick to launch a counter-offensive. I think this little bit illustrates excellently that the majority ideologists are above no hypocrisy. Even the group's name is a manipulation, intentionally oblivious to the traditional political meaning of the word "progressive":

'A conservative group, Progress for America, said it would spend $300,000 to run ads, beginning Thursday, on the same stations on which the Naral ad is appearing. "How low can these frustrated liberals sink?" its advertisement asks.'

Oh yes, that's much more nuanced.

PS - If you ask me (though no one ever does) the left should just start a campaign praising Roberts for advocating gay rights. Let conservatives bury conservatives.

Breakthrough!

I'm so excited: I managed to get off of my surfing plateau today! I caught almost every wave I went for, which as rule doesn't happen for me. It was a little shaky in the beginning - I was catching the wave, but was having some issues with balance (odd because balance is usually the least of my worries) - but it eventually got all smoothed out. I'm happy.

NASA

Why are we still funding this program? We already won; the Soviets lost - what else was there? With the money we dumped into NASA and Iraq, we could've developed a safe and efficient alternative fuel by now (instead of getting raped by these high fucking gas prices). Or saved social security. Or improved public education. Or hell, even lowered taxes (for the bottom 98% of Americans).

Mind you, I would never be opposed to research for knowledge's sake, or to pursuing a really cool concept, even if it has no use value. But my point is this: you don't see the government spending millions of dollars researching classical antiquity, do you?

Jack Johnson

That was by far the best-looking concert I've ever been to. Normally I find myself in a music scene that is extremely old, or not a day over fourteen, or just plain dweeby. So where do all the hip kids go? Here. The sold-out Jack Johnson concert was like walking into a huge frat house; there even wafted the smell of a frat house (cheap beer) as soon as I walked in. Best of all, there were no unaccompanied minors - amazing!

While my friend and I were driving through the parking lot, a guy walking by himself said, "Hey there." I accidently made eye contact with him, briefly, before I drove away. Then little further down the road, we got stopped in traffic, and the same guy caught up with us, this time with his friends.

GUY: Hey there. [To friend] See, that's how it's done.
[The guy's friend murmers something.]
GUY: That's okay. What matters is that you make them look.
HIS FRIEND: Except that they didn't look!

I didn't tell them so, but I have to give them props for laughs.

Pinocchio, Nancy Reagan

I always say that I was the one success story in Nancy Reagan's Just Say No campaign. Everyone else was able to see through it as being the total Pangloss-fantasy that it is, but I alone, to this day, still hear my inner voice saying "NO!" when confronted with a questionable (or even acceptable, like alcohol) temptation.

Yesterday, I was stuck in traffic on the freeway and I saw a man in another car smoking a cigar. Here's a near-exact transcript of what went through my head:

"Cigar is an interesting choice. They say that cigars are better for you than cigarettes because you puff instead of inhaling. Still, I would never try a cigar...for who can judge when the puffing stops and the inhaling begins? After all, Pinocchio didn't know better and he inhaled, and look what happened to him...

"OH MY GOD. Pinocchio is the real reason why I've stayed vice-free all these years!"

Not that I literally believe that I'll turn into a donkey if I misbehave, or that I'll have to go diving into a whale (of a whale...hehe). But everything about Pleasure Island filled my young heart with a terrible fear - the kind of fear you have for ugly things, like corpses. And what was on Pleasure Island? Cigars, beer, gambling, pool, and playing hooky. So I kept off the drugs and the booze, I stayed (and stayed) in school, and I never go to Vegas. Pool, somehow, I've managed to get over; it strikes me as innocent enough (...which is strange, since I remember that the eight ball was one of Jiminy Cricket's great obstacles).

So now I've discovered the embarrassing truth: a cartoon puppet (who says things like, "Gee! A Real Boy!") was the most definitive thing in keeping me on the straight and narrow. It's pretty disillusioning, when you put it all in perspective, but at least I can say now, with everyone else -

In your face, Nancy Reagan!

(Just kidding. I don't deny that Just Say No must have had some influence on my life.)

San Clemente

Those were some nice waves today. Powerful, but not too powerful, and above all, regular and predictable. San Clemente may be my favorite break on this side of the Pacific. Not surprisingly, there were a ton of people. We were almost surfing on top of each other, which is not cool.

Oh yes, and one more con: JELLYFISH. I saw one, freaked out, went to the other side of the beach, got stung by a different jellyfish, freaked out, put some vinegar on the sting, sat out on the beach and trembled in fear and indecision. Finally, I worked up the nerve to go back into the water, but not before passing another dying jellyfish on the shore.

I took a beating today from the waves (and the jellyfish), but I still had a blast.

Within a Budding Grove

It took me much longer to finish than it should have. Why? Because I found it nowhere near as charming as Swann's Way. I would almost say I'm disappointed - especially since my expectations were high. Proust still writes beautifully, of course, but this time it felt a little bit more like a chore, a la a Henry James. (Well, okay not THAT much of a chore.) Barely a whit of humor. Perhaps I didn't like Swann's Way for its literary sophistication at all, but because it had such dynamite characters as the pun-loving Dr. Cottard, or the bullshitting Legrandin, or the bully Francoise, or the eccentric Aunt Leonie...

...but, I refuse to believe that entirely because I felt in every pore of my body the pathos of Swann's love story!

Within a Budding Grove also had a slight element of nymphet-mania - all the more disturbing because it had come before the crystallized definition thereof in Lolita, which makes the nymphet into a literary phenomenon, as opposed to a more involuntary outburst of one's unconventional lusts. If I didn't already know that Proust was gay, I might have taken his descriptions of adolescent girls seriously, and concluded that he was a creep.

Seal Beach

has a very cute little Main Street. Bakeries, pet shops, and bona fide barber shops - the kind with the striped spinning pole outside the door. Strangely enough, it's a bit lacking in surf shops. But, also strangely enough, the few surf shops it does have are ethnically-diversely staffed. Yay Seal Beach. Mostly, these establishments appear to be patronized by the almost-elderly. I met one such couple dining on a patio, and they had the most winsome of puppies with them: a ten-week-old yellow lab.

And yet, even with its adorableness, there was something unappealing about Seal Beach. A. I had to take the 405 to get there. B. It looked grubby, for some reason. Could be actual litter, could be a certain unrefined quality of the sand, could be that I just came back from Maui. C. They weren't lying when they said, "that's some damn smelly water." D. The waves sucked today. Surfers I saw not a one, though there were a ton of people doing that parachute windsurfing thing, whatever that's called. It looked fun. Nevertheless, the water stunk.

In conclusion, would I go back to Seal Beach? Probably not. I realized: maybe I actually do like nature, just a little bit, and maybe I'd like my beach to look (and smell) a little more natural than that one.

Roberts will be centrist when Hell freezes over

I did some more reading on John Roberts and his judicial record. The media encourage us to consider him unpredictable because his record is so limited, but as far as I can tell, the one consistent thread in this limited record is "in support of Justice Scalia's opinion." In some cases, he seems even more conservative (ie, hateful) than Scalia. Meaning, basically, that Roberts will adhere to the ideology of the primacy of federal power in all matters...in all matters except those defending the environment or desegregation, in which case laissez-faire is okay.

There were some decisions I could reluctantly agree with, but that's because I happen to be a little bit moderate (depending on whom I'm standing next to). These include his ruling that religious groups can meet on school grounds without violating the Establishment Clause, and (maybe; pending on further details) his ruling limiting a prisoner's right to sue (sorry). To his credit, Roberts also once ruled in favor of a man suing because of discrimination against his disability...but this case seems to have had more to do with federal authority than anti-discrimination.

As for his upholding Roe v. Wade? Ha! Not a chance in hell. He once supported a vigilante group that used violence to stop women from entering family planning clinics, oh for crying out loud. "We continue to hold that Roe was wrongly decided and should be overruled... The Court's conclusion in Roe that there is a fundamental right to an abortion...finds no support in the text, structure, or history of the Constitution." That would be a direct quote.

If you need to evaluate for yourself the precise left-bias of my source, here's the url:
http://www.independentjudiciary.com/resources/docs/John_Roberts_Report.pdf

John Roberts in Newsweek

I was interested in gauging how realistic it is to hope that Roberts might become a centrist voter if appointed to the Supreme Court. Newsweek seemed to take an optimistic view, saying that Roberts is a intelligent free thinker who is often unpredicatable, and rather than running with the herd, his first allegiance is to the law. To illustrate, they gave some droll anecdotes, of which I remember two:

As a kid, Roberts got in trouble for throwing an orange at a wall. He claimed that it was not his fault because the orange was intended to hit a boy, who ducked, instead of the wall. The fault therefore belonged to the ducking boy.

When Roberts was arguing against a prison inmate who claimed that it was cruel and unusual for him to have to share a cell with a smoker, the judge asked Roberts whether he would consider it cruel if that inmate had to sit in a cell full of asbestos. Roberts replied that at restaurants, you don't get asked whether you'd prefer to sit in an asbestos or non-asbestos section.

Intelligent? Okay, I'll give you that. But free thinker? I'd say he sounds more like an asshole.