The Washington Post has published the transcript of Zacharias Moussaoui's hearing yesterday in U.S. District Court. It's interesting reading, if only to get some insight into how judges deal with defendants who insist on representing themselves when it seems imprudent to do so.

The Washington Post has published the transcript of Zacharias Moussaoui's hearing yesterday in U.S. District Court. It's interesting reading, if only to get some insight into how judges deal with defendants who insist on representing themselves when it seems imprudent to do so.

Well, it's just a miserable morning here in northern New Jersey. I came in quite early so that I can attempt to take advantage of my company's summer hours and get out of here (hopefully) around 12:30. Unfortunately, my boss, who's been out of the office at a management meeting since Wednesday morning, just called from his cell and let me know that he "needs to speak to me at length" about a particular issue that we've been dealing with, so I suspect that I may not get out of here until later in the afternoon. Bah.

From this week's New Yorker: a quote from our, ahem, fearless leader:

"And so, in my State of the -- my State of the Union -- or State -- my speech to the nation, whatever you want to call it, speech to the nation -- I asked Americans to give four thousand years -- four thousand hours over the next -- the rest of your life -- of service to America."

Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States.

Oh, this is classic. I am not at all exaggerating when I say that the woman whom the seniors are trying to ban from speaking is a fucking nutcase. She's now the president of the school board in the public school district where I grew up, and seven years ago she was accused of making a particularly harsh anti-Semitic remark during a meeting with school officials (she stated that when she got to heaven, she would be "looking down on all the Jews in hell and hearing them snap, crackle and pop"). Although several people testified to the incident, she denied it, and was re-elected to the school board. In the meantime, she and her lawyer husband have brought numerous suits against her municipal zoning board and against the zoning board members *and their spouses* personally, for various alleged infractions.

I don't blame those kids at all.

Well, Dave just called to let me know that it appears that the Devils have already fired coach Kevin Constantine and replaced him with former Bruins coach Pat Burns.

To say that I am exceedingly disappointed about this is an understatement -- I cannot believe that Lou Lamoriello fired Larry Robinson in January, hired Constantine, brought back Robinson as an assistant, and has not decided on another coach entirely. While I'm not disputing that the Devils' play this season, especially during their very short postseason, was pathetic, I really have to wonder if Larry leaving was the impetus for their backslide.

I just love Naomi's entry about her cousin's wedding -- apparently the priest utilized a Chik-Fil-A sandwich as the basis for his homily. You've at least got to give him points for originality, right?

Vermont is about to pass a law that will require pharmaceutical companies to report any gifts to physicians valued at $25 or more. This comes just on the eve of many companies' voluntary adoption of the new PhRMA code on interactions with healthcare professionals.

My company is already dealing with how we plan to implement the code, so it will be interesting to see how this succeeds, and whether other states follow suit.

"That's the thing about magic. There's always consequences. Always!"

As you could probably infer from the previous entry, I had a craptacular day today. I'm now finally home, and am settling in to watch Anderson Cooper.

Tomorrow is another day.

It is extremely unwise to insinuate that I don't have any idea what I'm talking about, and more unwise to copy the world on email making such an insinuation, when the matter in question is my particular area of legal expertise. If you want code title, chapter, and section to prove that I know my stuff, be prepared to drown in paper.

I would love to work for this firm, if only because their site is a total crackup.

I can unequivocally state that any grocery product which speaks to me will in no way ever make it into my cart.

To go along with the story I posted the other day about the New Jersey bar finally thinking about caving in on its waive-in requirements for lawyers, this story details how 11,000 out-of-state lawyers have received tax notices from the state of New Jersey, warning that they might owe taxes on the time spent on pro hac vice cases in New Jersey. a "pro hac vice" appearance is when a lawyer who is not admitted to practice in a particular state is permitted to appear on a case in that state. Under New Jersey procedures, a lawyer admitted pro hac vice is required to register with New Jersey's Lawyers Fund for Client Protection and must pay the $170 that regularly admitted New Jersey lawyers pay.

Also, under New Jersey law, any attorney or firm with worldwide taxable income in excess of $20,000 is required to pay income taxes on sums earned in New Jersey. Attorneys who appear on the pro hac vice list would be liable as well for taxes from income for any other non-court work, such as appearances at depositions.

You can always tell that it's Monday in my office during the summer, because everyone is either wearing a light, short-sleeved top or no sleeves at all. Reason? The building turns off the air conditioning over the weekend, and it takes until about 4 o'clock on Monday for it to get down to a reasonable temperature. Tomorrow, it'll be back to long sleeves again, since it will be like the arctic tundra.

Early last October, weeks after the attacks, I was reading journals to distract myself from everything that was going on, especially from the fact that Dave used to take the PATH through the World Trade Center every morning and but for his odd work schedule and good timing on that morning, could have been walking through the scene at the time, when I came upon this entry by Jessie (who's one of my favorite fellow lawyer-cum-journalers and people, to boot, anyway), in which she mentioned a particular song by Ben Folds. The entry contains the lyrics to the song, which I've republished here, as well.

When I say that reading those words and listening to the song smacked me right between the eyes, I am completely underplaying the impact that they had on me. Don't get me wrong -- I felt like I had been crying nonstop at that point, but it was more the silent tears welling up and running down my cheeks as I processed the endless onslaught of media coverage. Reading those words just then, though -- I think that was the first time that I sobbed, really sobbed in that nose-running, breath-heaving, unable to even speak a word kind of way since the day of the attacks. At that moment, I realized how much Dave meant to me, really, really meant to me, and how utterly devastated and bereft I was at even the briefest thought of losing him, of having had him go off to work and vanish, of saying goodbye to him even for the shortest while. I don't think I had permitted the magnitude of that kind of loss to permeate my heart until then.

I'm listening to it again now, and I'm still crying, but now it's because it means something completely different. We're married. We're husband and wife. We're in it for the long haul, till death do us part. And while I know that nothing is certain, and nothing has guarantees, and many people who lost their loved ones on that terrible day felt that blindingly sunny morning the way that I feel now, I know that I am, at least in this moment, the luckiest.

And I know that when we finally have our post-wedding party for our family and friends, and when we dance together to this song, I will most likely weep because, well, that's what I do. But I'll know that the reasons are different now. I was lucky for one particular reason on the day that I first heard this song, but I am the luckiest for so many more reasons now. And I hold on to that.

I don't get
Many things right the first time
In fact I am told that a lot

That I am
I am
I am the luckiest

-- Ben Folds

Here's a fun one. A man in Florida won a new trial because the jury pool chosen for his trial had too many names starting with the letter "G" in it.

These Dartmouth brats really need to shut their pieholes. I would have given my eyeteeth to have Mr. Rogers at my graduation, instead of the pompous blowhard who actually spoke. And spoke. And spoke. In 95-degree heat.