Scheduling Conflicts
Well, here's the deal, gang. I've got briefs due in the Supreme Court and the 8th District next Friday, and despite my hopes to the contrary, it doesn't look like they're going to write themselves. (If you're waiting for me to do one of those self-help books, like "Eight Tips from Highly Organized and Successful People," keep waiting. Mine would probably be entitled, "If It Weren't for the Last Minute, I Wouldn't Get Anything Done.")
So I'm only going to have time to do a couple of posts next week, if that. I may do a case update on Monday, or the 8th District roundup on Tuesday, but that depends on what happens there: right now, the 8th District is showing only five new decisions, and the only case announcement on the Supreme Court site is the dog-bites-man "Attorney Suspended from Practice." The US Supreme Court resumes on Monday after the Easter Break, so maybe they'll come up with something I can write about. (Speaking of Easter, here's Reason No. 17 that I'm going to Hell: on Monday, somebody asked me how my holiday had been, and I had to think about it before I realized what he was talking about. Not the most religiously observant person... I'm hoping I'm consigned to something no worse than Dante's Fifth Circle, because things get pretty dicy below that: the Infernal Furies show up in the 6th, and in the 8th, you're forced to spend eternity watching an endless loop of Adam Sandler movies.)
I realized the other day that I've got a blogiversary coming up: On May 14, I'll have been doing this for exactly three years. (My very first post amply foreshadowed the quick wit and clever insights I was bringing to the legal analysis table .) So I'm going to do what Rush Limbaugh does when he goes on vacation. No, silly, I'm not going to feed my oxycodone habit; I'm going to recycle some of my previous posts. One of them will even feature Janet Jackson's breast. Another reason to choose life.
And if something notable in the legal world does happen, I'll be all over it like a cheap suit, which those who have seen my wardrobe would attest is a particularly apt metaphor.
Catch you then.
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