- What top UK pop star was eaten by ravenous Ukrainian babies over the weekend? Oh, wouldn't you like to know. Let's just say, if I am on a steamer from Jaffa in 1927 and the leader of the religious cult my husband has joined won't give me a raft to row to shore, it might be false imprisonment but it also might be PARADISE!
- As a child I loved pickled Bologna. I even got it from Christmas one year. Bologna wrapped up in paper. And a coloring book with a scary face in it. I love my grandparents. Professional infliction of metal anguish=duress: "the stock boy said, 'get it yourself. You stink to me.'"
- Trespass to chattels? But doesn't every dog get a bite?
- I am shooting my assault rifle over S--'s property. A duck lays down and pretends to be dead till I pass? A tort? How about if I am in a cave, tunneling slowly underneath Northpoint Prison? What else would you need to know (Does it matter that I can't grow finger nails?)?
- The doctor cuts off the wrong leg. You are a mannequin. Manna kin. Shit. Andrew McCarthy is kissing you. Your hand is in his back pocket but you find no career there. How did you get here? Then the alarm sounds and the guy who played Cpt. Harris in some, but not all of the police academy movies runs up slowly, slowly, with suds covering his face.
- The man, a nototious rake and scoundrel, creeps up to the lady and suggests they repair to behind the bushes and he make illicit intercourse to her while she reads. The lady goes insensible, faints, her [EDITED] and [EDITED] her [EDITED], her fingers go numb, she has to sit down and then the next moring expires. Is this assault? The court held: NO.
Monday, September 20, 2004
Personal Time in Law School
Note from Chapter 3: