I have nothing to add to this except to note that Krissy and I met because she saw me on the dance floor and liked the way I moved. Oh, yes.
Krissy went into the garage this morning and found the bloody head of a mouse right on the doorstep, a present from Lopsided Cat, who spent the night outside, quite obviously indulging in his carnivore nature. She suggested that I take a picture of it and put it up on the site, but I won’t be doing that today. This site is a PG-13 site, which means gory severed mammalian heads are a definite no-no. She also left it to me to pick up the mouse head and put it somewhere else, and I did. Of course, I’m not saying where. I’m going to let that be a delightful surprise for my wife. I’m just that way.
Severed mouse heads are icky, but on one level I can appreciate Lopsided Cat leaving it at our doorstep. It means that Lopsided Cat has clued in that one of his jobs is kill small rodents before they get into the house, at which point either I or Krissy will be obliged to kill them, and then wonder why the hell we have cats in the first place. It’s no small consideration around here — because we live next to fields, we not surprisingly are at risk of field mouse visits. In the two years we’ve been here, we’ve seen two mice in the house; one I caught in a Tupperware container and deposited outside, back in the field, and the other had its neck snapped by a trap Krissy put in the pantry.
It’s not that Krissy is more bloodthirsty than I am, incidentally; it’s just that I actually caught the thing personally and couldn’t bring myself to squish a small furry thing between my fingers. That’s just mean. Likewise, had Krissy nabbed the mouse herself, she would be unlikely to murder it by her own hand. However, we don’t mind if the mice die, because they’re in our house, and that’s no good. But like all good bosses, we prefer to let our underlings handle the dirty work, preferably underlings who lack opposable thumbs, have sharp canines and no feelings of residual guilt about disemboweling furry creatures smaller than they are.
And that’s Lopsided Cat (and to a lesser extent Rex, who is mostly retired now but was known to bring down rather substantial creatures in his day). By leaving the mouse head where he knows we’ll find it, Lopsided Cat is simply saying, hey, it’s your friendly neighborhood predator, on the job for you! I’m glad for it; each mouse head outside is one less mouse inside, borrowing through our snack foods and leaving small turds where Wheat Thins used to be. And that’s the way it should be.
If you’re a lawyer, or just like to pretend you’re one in front of a jury (and that’s your Constitutional right!), then you might want to check out the quiz I wrote for the newest edition of JD Jungle magazine: “Are You Partner Material?” I quizzed a dozen partners from various top law firms around the country about the day-to-day activities and ethical quandaries they deal with as partners, so you can put your own answers down and see how you compare to the guys and gals who are actually on the top level.
There are fifteen questions in the quiz, although I asked more than that during the course of talking to partners. Alas, my favorite question did not make it in: “Sinking Ship. Life Boat. Room for two people, one of which is you. You can take either your most useful associate or your profitable client. Who do you choose and why?” I got some interesting answers to that one, let me tell you.
Anyway, the magazine is now out and available at law schools, many major law firms and selected newsstands. JD Jungle also has a web site here, although the site is not yet updated to reflect the contents of the latest issue. Nevertheless, it’s well worth bookmarking, and I’m not just saying that because they’re sending me money. Also in this month’s magazine, two people with whom I have very tangential relationships: Cory Booker, for whom one my best friends crossed a continent to work on his campaign staff when he ran for mayor of Newark, and Danny Hellman, sworn blood enemy of my pal Ted Rall, who is suing Hellman for libel (long story. Let’s not get into it).
Here. Have some music. This is a sort of slow, meditative piece, just right for contemplating a journey to the stars or selling mid-range domestic sedans. Really, it’s your choice. The music is encoded in real audio, so obviously you’ll need a Real player to play it. It’s three minutes long, so you won’t feel like you’ve wasted too much of your time if’n you don’t like it.
Off to take Athena to preschool. Be back later.