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Topics - 2Lacoste
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« on: July 24, 2006, 04:44:59 PM »
If we went back in time and did not get into the schools we are currently attending/going to attend, where would we be?
SCHOOL I'M ATTENDING: HLS
ALTERNATE SCHOOL: Tough choice. It'd have to be Chicago or Stanford. Money was about the same, and Stanford is ranked higher. But Chicago is well respected and spits clerks out like a beast. Winner: Chicago.
« on: July 24, 2006, 04:39:53 PM »
Damn...I'ma have to be on my best behavior when I get down to PR in a couple of weeks.
Now PR has the most Miss Universe winners in the world since 2000 and the second-most (second to USA) in the world, period.
« on: July 19, 2006, 05:09:01 PM »
In this thread we share our favorite poems (or even our own writings):
by Allen Ginsberg
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by
madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn
looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly
connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat
up smoking in the supernatural darkness of
cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities
who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and
saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,
who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes
hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy
among the scholars of war,
who were expelled from the academies for crazy &
publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,
who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear,
burning their money in wastebaskets and listening
to the Terror through the wall,
who got busted in their pubic beards returning through
Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,
who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in
Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their
torsos night after night
with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares,
alcohol and cock and endless balls,
incomparable blind; streets of shuddering cloud and
lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of Canada & Paterson,
illuminating all the motionless world of Time between,
Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery
dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops,
storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon
blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree
vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn,
ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind,
who chained themselves to subways for the endless
ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine
until the noise of wheels and children brought
them down shuddering mouth-wracked and
battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance
in the drear light of Zoo,
who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's
floated out and sat through the stale beer after
noon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack
of doom on the hydrogen jukebox,
who talked continuously seventy hours from park to
pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge,
lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping
down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills
off Empire State out of the moon,
yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts
and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks
and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars,
whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days
and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the
Synagogue cast on the pavement,
who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a
trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall,
suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grind-ings and
migraines of China under junk-with-drawal in Newark's bleak furnished room,
who wandered around and around at midnight in the
railroad yard wondering where to go, and went,
leaving no broken hearts,
who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing
through snow toward lonesome farms in grand-father night,
who studied Plotinus Poe St. John of the Cross telepathy
and bop kabbalah because the cosmos instinctively
vibrated at their feet in Kansas,
who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary
indian angels who were visionary indian angels,
who thought they were only mad when Baltimore
gleamed in supernatural ecstasy,
who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight street
light smalltown rain,
who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston
seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the
brilliant Spaniard to converse about America
and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa,
who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving
behind nothing but the shadow of dungarees
and the lava and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago,
who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the
F.B.I. in beards and shorts with big pacifist
eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets,
who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting
the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism,
who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union
Square weeping and undressing while the sirens
of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed
down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed,
who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked
and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons,
who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight
in policecars for committing no crime but their
own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication,
who howled on their knees in the subway and were
dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts,
who let themselves be screwed in the ass by saintly
motorcyclists, and screamed with joy,
who blew and were blown by those human seraphim,
the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love,
who balled in the morning in the evenings in rose
gardens and the grass of public parks and
cemeteries scattering their semen freely to
whomever come who may,
who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up
with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath
when the blond & naked angel came to pierce
them with a sword,
who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate
the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar
the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb
and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but
sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden
threads of the craftsman's loom,
who copulated ecstatic and insatiate with a bottle of
beer a sweetheart a package of cigarettes a candle and fell off the bed, and continued along
the floor and down the hall and ended fainting
on the wall with a vision of ultimate female private part and
come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness,
who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling
in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning
but prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sun
rise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake,
who went out whoring through Colorado in myriad
stolen night-cars, N.C., secret hero of these
poems, cocksman and Adonis of Denver-joy
to the memory of his innumerable lays of girls
in empty lots & diner backyards, moviehouses'
rickety rows, on mountaintops in caves or with
gaunt waitresses in familiar roadside lonely petticoat upliftings & especially secret gas-station
solipsisms of johns, & hometown alleys too,
who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in
dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and
picked themselves up out of basements hung
over with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third
Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices,
who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on
the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the
East River to open to a room full of steamheat and opium,
who created great suicidal dramas on the apartment
cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime
blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall
be crowned with laurel in oblivion,
who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested
the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of Bowery,
who wept at the romance of the streets with their
pushcarts full of onions and bad music,
« on: July 19, 2006, 04:45:08 PM »
male private part Cheney as the next First Amendment poster child.
By Akhil Reed Amar
Along with several other current or former administration officials, Cheney is being sued by Valerie and Joseph Wilson, who claim that, in response to an anti-administration op-ed Mr. Wilson published in July 2003 in the New York Times, the defendants violated the Wilsons' constitutional rights by organizing a vicious whispering campaign against them. One result of this campaign was a newspaper column, authored by journalist Robert Novak, that outed Ms. Wilson (nee Valerie Plame) as a CIA operative.
Now, Cheney's first instinct may be to assert, brusquely, that he is legally immune from damage suits challenging his actions as vice president. In 1982, the Supreme Court held, in Nixon v. Fitzgerald, that Richard Nixon could not be sued for damages by Ernest Fitzgerald, a government employee whom Nixon fired after Fitzgerald had blown the whistle on the administration. According to the court, even if Nixon had acted unconstitutionally, he was absolutely immune from a civil damage suit given that he was acting within the "outer perimeter" of his presidential powers, which include the power to fire executive-branch subordinates. Cheney may well feel that the same basic rule should apply to vice presidents, and that he, too, should be absolutely immune from civil liability, even if he violated the Constitution. (On this imperious view, constitutional accountability is for the little people.)
But does Cheney really want to go down in history next to Richard Nixon? Wouldn't it make more sense for him to position himself in the lawbooks alongside John Peter Zenger?
Zenger—a publisher sued for libel in the 1730s—famously defended freedom of expression, and Cheney should do likewise. In other words, Cheney should use this as a teaching moment, to explain how a proper understanding of First Amendment principles actually supports him and not the Wilsons, who have claimed that Cheney violated their free-expression rights. The result would be an elegant First Amendment jujitsu, using all the Wilsons' free-press momentum against them, to defeat their lawsuits.
Here is the key fact that Cheney should stress: Unlike Nixon, who fired a government whistle-blower, Cheney did not fire the Wilsons. He merely spoke out against them. True, he did so furtively, in what many might view as an underhanded whispering campaign. But the First Amendment protects a wide variety of speech and expression, encompassing the right to print, orate, and yes, to whisper—even to whisper anonymously and with petty or partisan motivation.
And to whom were Cheney and his fellow defendants whispering? To the press! This is the other key fact for the New male private part Cheney—the Zorro/Zenger Defender of the First Amendment. The Wilsons claim that they were being punished for speaking out against Cheney and the administration. But if the Wilsons have a right to criticize Cheney in the press, Cheney can claim that he has an equal right to criticize the Wilsons when talking to the press, whether on the record or off.
Of course, not all words are absolutely protected by the First Amendment. For example, the words "you're fired" may be properly viewed as constitutionally unprotected conduct rather than pure speech. So, too, the words "kill him" when the Godfather is ordering his hit man into action.
The Wilsons' suit in effect claims that the outing of Ms. Wilson is like a hit ordered by a mobster. But is it? While there are criminal laws on the books that prohibit the improper outing of CIA agents, it does not appear that these laws were violated. Indeed, the special prosecutor in charge of investigating the leak, Patrick Fitzgerald, has not brought any criminal charges under the anti-outing laws, even as he has filed other—perjury-related—charges growing out of the Wilson affair.
Of course, the Wilsons need not prove that the leak was criminal to win their civil suit. For example, although firing a government whistle-blower to punish his speech might not be criminal, it might nevertheless be unconstitutional. But it is at precisely this point in the legal argument that Cheney should reiterate that he and his fellow whisperers were speaking to responsible journalists, and that the whisperers' purpose was to give the journalists background for understanding the possible bias of Mr. Wilson and certain groups within the CIA.
The Wilsons do not allege that Cheney said "kill Valerie"—and in general, courts should not lightly assume that criticism of a government agency (such as the CIA) is the same as an open call to assassination or some other express advocacy of illegal violence. If courts did indulge this assumption, Cheney should add, a great many government critics would be unduly vulnerable to prosecution or civil liability. Given that even ordinary citizens have robust rights of free expression, so should vice presidents, Cheney should argue. For he, too, was in effect criticizing a certain public official (Mr. Wilson, a longtime public servant) and a certain government agency (the CIA).
In short, rather than hiding behind the claim that he, like the president, is somehow above the law, Cheney should assert that he—like any ordinary citizen!—has a legally protected right to speak to the press.
Coming from Mr. Cheney, any effort to claim this First Amendment high ground might initially be greeted with skepticism. But, in truth, several aspects of the Wilsons' legal complaint—filed last Thursday in federal district court—should trouble thoughtful civil libertarians:
Casual use of the "T" word. The complaint opens—quite oddly for a legal document—by quoting the first President Bush railing against "insidious … traitors" who compromise undercover operatives. But treason is defined very narrowly in the Constitution, and for good reason. Not all disclosures—even of sensitive information—are treasonous or even unpatriotic. A great deal depends on intent and context, and to use the "T" word loosely is to engage in McCarthyism. Loose talk of treason is especially dangerous in a legal document seeking to invoke the coercive power of the judiciary. Indeed, if the complaint's loose language were taken seriously, it would pose a serious threat to responsible journalists who are in the business of making hard decisions about what information should properly be brought to the public's attention. If the outing of Valerie Wilson was really treason, then journalist Robert Novak would be in dire legal peril. Yet special prosecutor Fitzgerald has cleared Novak of criminal wrongdoing.
Promiscuous use of tort law to chill public expression. The Wilsons also complain that defendants committed the tort of "publication" of "private facts." This is a tort that has a proper place in American law—as when, for example, a newspaper gratuitously publishes an account of an otherwise nonnewsworthy person's closeted sexual identity or publishes graphic and unconsented-to telephoto pictures of such a person in his bathroom. But courts and commentators have stressed that this tort needs to be very strictly limited to protect First Amendment rights of speakers to publish politically important facts and thereby vindicate the public's right to know. The truthfulness of the published information is not generally a defense to this tort. Thus, this tort, if construed as broadly as the Wilson complaint urges, could become as dangerous as libel law was in the pre-Zenger era, when truth was no defense. If the Wilsons were to win on this ground, we could well end up with an oppressive tort-law version of an Official State Secrets Act, not merely cloaking a private domain for private citizens but also shielding the press (and the public) from potentially relevant political information about public servants. And if Cheney and his gang are liable, why not Novak and his newspaper? The newspaper, after all, is where the "widespread publication" that the Wilsons complain of actually occurred.
Seeking damages without strong proof of financial harm. Another flaw of old-fashioned libel law was that a plaintiff could receive a massive damage award even though there was no proof that a libelous expression caused him any real financial harm. But in 1964 the Supreme Court put an end to this racket in the famous First Amendment case of New York Times v. Sullivan. The Wilson complaint seeks unspecified damages. Unmentioned in the complaint is a major (and apparently quite lucrative) book deal just signed by Ms. Wilson.
The threat of broad civil discovery at the expense of journalistic privilege. Perhaps the Wilsons' real goal here is not to win the lawsuit but simply to get civil discovery against the defendants, thereby enlisting the coercive power of the courts to oblige the defendants and other witnesses to tell all—to divulge who said what to which journalist when. In a criminal case, journalists' claims of privilege may sometimes properly take a back seat to the broader public interest in catching the bad guys or clearing an innocent defendant who has been wrongly accused. But to allow every private plaintiff with a private grudge to compel journalists to divulge their sources is a very different matter. Here, too, the Wilsons' complaint may raise a serious threat to the very press freedom that it purports to champion.
There is much to criticize in Cheney's and his allies' conduct during this whole sorry mess. But it is doubtful that tort law a la Wilson suit is the solution. Much as it might gall him to do so, Cheney's best response to the Wilsons' complaint would be to wrap himself in the First Amendment and fight. And while he is at it, perhaps he might read the amendment—heck, the whole Bill of Rights!—and think of the rest of us.
« on: July 19, 2006, 02:49:35 PM »
Fill it out or something.
1. In one sentence, explain what ended your last relationship:
2. What made you smile today?
3. What were you doing this morning at 8a.m.?
4. What were you doing 15 minutes ago?
5. Something that happened to you in 1985?
6. Your prom night?
7. Last thing you said aloud?
8. Last thing someone else said aloud?
9. Worst thing currently on television?
10. What was in the mail today?
11. How many different beverages have you drank today?
12. What is your favorite part of the day?
13. Your current To-do list?
14. Where is your best friend right now?
15. What color is your toothbrush?
16. What is out your back door?
17. Any plans for Friday night?
18. Least favorite place to shop?
19. Last thing you bought?
20. Last gift you received?
21. Funniest thing you heard all day?
22. Favorite mug?
23. What color is your front door?
Spill Your Guts
1. First thing you did this morning?:
2. Last thing you ate?
3. Is your cell phone a piece of crap?
4. What's something you look forward to most in the next 6 weeks?
5. What's annoying you right now?:
6. Do you believe in long-distance relationships?
7. Is there a person who is on your mind right now?
8. Where is the last place you went?
9. Who is the last person you called?
10. Do you look like your mom or dad?
11. Do you smile often?
12. Do you think that someone is thinking about you right now?
13. What is the most disgusting food you've ever eaten?
14. When did you last cry?
15. Are you a friendly person?
16. Are you keeping a secret from the world?
17. What were you doing at 9 last night?
« on: July 19, 2006, 11:24:01 AM »
My Life As An Associate
The terrible truth dawned on me as I sat on the flowered patio of a midtown restaurant. I was smiling at the summer associate, and he was smiling at me. There were three other associates and three other summer people, all tucking into northern Italian delicacies under a sultry sky. I was smiling at this fellow—whom I liked a lot—and lying to him. I was telling him how much "fun" it was to work at the firm. How the "collegial atmosphere" made all the difference. How ours was not a "sweatshop" like other firms I could mention. As the cliches tumbled out of my mouth and he drank them in like a traveler in the desert, I realized that I had become a Company Man.
There I was—the rebel, who almost every day caballed in corners with my fellow disenchanted ones—seducing another victim. Pulling another sucker into the machine. My late father worked in a circus as a teenager, back in the thirties. He told me that the carnies called the yokels they gulled "marks." Here I was luring a "mark" of a different sort into his very own cage in the menagerie.The big firm I worked at was— like all big New York law firms—a cultural oddity. It combined aspects of the boarding school I had attended in England with the political climate of the former Soviet Union. Like school it was a nightmare world of irrational hierarchies, institutionalized bullying, and overwhelming peer pressure. Like the bad old USSR it combined grotesque inefficiency with a culture of Orwellian surveillance, universal distrust, shameless sucking up, and constant dishonesty. High ideals were honored only in the breach. Capricious tyrants roamed the hallways, the terrifying reality behind the movie The Revenge of the Nerds. Those who flourished in the system were almost always monsters, twisted into Balzacian shapes by the struggle for power. The office was a petri dish for the growth of abnormal psychologies.
Economically it represented a perfect reification of various Marxist theories. As associates we were wage slaves, members of a white-collar proletariat, objectively closer to the model described in Das Kapital than most nineteenth-century factory hands. It may seem odd to call someone a wage slave whose starting salary was $85,000 (though broken down per hour it was much less impressive). But the work of a junior associate, in reality, is being a clerk, a checker, the one whose job is on the line to make sure that the decimal points are in the right place. No one with an Ivy League education is going to perform this sort of drudgery for much less than 80 grand.
We were also faced with alienation from the products of our labor. You would work on the tiniest part of a huge transaction. You would never see the big picture, never know if your all-nighter made a difference, if your clauses appeared in the final documents, never even find out if the deal had gone through.
And to make the life bearable, you found yourself spending a lot of money. After a particularly long and dreary project, or a humiliating interaction with someone of higher rank, I would often slip out to buy myself a little present, perhaps another Ferragamo tie. It's a way of reminding yourself that despite your misery you are a highly paid professional: you may feel like a serf, but you can afford to spend $80 on a beautiful strip of silk. This becomes a way of life. Some people eat chocolate to make themselves feel better; lawyers buy stuff. As they claw their way up the ladder, they buy more and more. Before they know it, they cannot imagine living without an enormous salary.
For a young, single associate this means making up for the unpredictability or lack of a social life by spending freely on your few free evenings. I took taxis everywhere without a thought. I dined at the most expensive restaurants in town because, dammit, it was the only real perk of the job. Lawyers pulling 100-hour weeks have more money than time. So, when we got to take our vacations, we just threw down our gold cards in front of the travel agent and didn't even look at the bill.
Most of us had expensive apartments. Again the thinking was, if my life is going to be so awful, at least I'll have a decent place to come home to. I tried not to think about how little time I spent in my pad, with its great views and empty fridge.
« on: July 12, 2006, 05:53:00 PM »
Bradshaw v Unity Marine (147 F.Supp.2d, S.D. Texas 2001):
"Before proceeding further, the Court notes that this case involves two extremely likable lawyers, who have together delivered some of the most amateurish pleadings ever to cross the hallowed causeway into Galveston, an effort which leads the Court to surmise but one plausible explanation. Both attorneys have obviously entered into a secret pact--complete with hats, handshakes and cryptic words--to draft their pleadings entirely in crayon on the back sides of gravy-stained paper place mats, in the hope that the Court would be so charmed by their child-like efforts that their utter dearth of legal authorities in their briefing would go unnoticed. Whatever actually occurred, the Court is now faced with the daunting task of deciphering their submissions. With Big Chief tablet readied, thick black pencil in hand, and a devil-may-care laugh in the face of death, life on the razor's edge sense of exhilaration, the Court begins. . . .
"Plaintiff responds to this deft, yet minimalist analytical wizardry with an equally gossamer wisp of an argument, although Plaintiff does at least cite the federal limitations provision applicable to maritime tort claims. Naturally, Plaintiff also neglects to provide any analysis whatsoever of why his claim versus Defendant Phillips is a maritime action. Instead, Plaintiff "cites" to a single case from the Fourth Circuit. Plaintiff's citation, however, points to a nonexistent Volume "1886" of the Federal Reporter Third Edition and neglects to provide a pinpoint citation for what, after being located, turned out to be a forty-page decision. Ultimately, to the Court's dismay after reviewing the opinion, it stands simply for the bombshell proposition that torts committed on navigable waters (in this case an alleged defamation committed by the controversial G. Gordon Liddy aboard a cruise ship at sea) require the application of general maritime rather than state tort law. (What the . . .)?! The Court cannot even begin to comprehend why this case was selected for reference. It is almost as if Plaintiff's counsel chose the opinion by throwing long range darts at the Federal Reporter (remarkably enough hitting a nonexistent volume!). . . ."
"After this remarkably long walk on a short legal pier, having received no useful guidance whatever from either party, the Court has endeavored, primarily based upon its affection for both counsel, but also out of its own sense of morbid curiosity, to resolve what it perceived to be the legal issue presented. Despite the waste of perfectly good crayon seen in both parties' briefing (and the inexplicable odor of wet dog emanating from such) the Court believes it has satisfactorily resolved this matter. Defendant's Motion for Summary Judgment is GRANTED."
« on: July 06, 2006, 01:09:13 PM »
N.Y. Court Upholds Gay Marriage Ban
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By ANEMONA HARTOCOLLIS
Published: July 6, 2006
New York's highest court today turned back an attempt by gay and lesbian couples to win equal treatment under New York State's marriage law, saying that the state constitution "does not compel recognition of marriages between members of the same sex."
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(courts.state.ny.us) The court's ruling combined four different lawsuits by 44 gay and lesbian couples throughout the state, who argued that they had a constitutionally protected right to be married like heterosexual couples, and that to deny them that right violated the due-process and equal-protection clauses of the state constitution.
In a rare fracture, the six judges were split into a plurality of three, who signed the majority opinion; a concurring opinion by one judge; and a strong dissent by the other two.
The majority opinion agreed with lawyers for New York City and New York State that there was a rational basis — grounded in the stability of the family as a child-rearing institution — for limiting marriage to a union of one man and one woman.
But it left open the possibility that the state Legislature could decide to allow same-sex marriages.
"We hold that the New York Constitution does not compel recognition of marriages between members of the same sex," Judge Robert S. Smith wrote in the majority decision. "Whether such marriages should be recognized is a question to be addressed by the Legislature."
The court conceded that "the benefits of marriage are many." But the three-judge pluralitiy wrote that the Legislature could rationally decide, as a matter of social policy, that it is more important to promote the stability that marriage brings within an opposite-sex union than within same-sex unions.
In addition, it said, the Legislature could reasonably believe that "it is better, other things being equal, for children to grow up with both a mother and a father."
The court's decision was a crushing blow for advocates of gay and lesbian marriage, who have no further grounds for appeal, because they did not raise any federal issues in this litigation. It means that the question of same-sex marriage goes back to a divided legislature, where advocates acknowledge that winning support for gay and lesbian unions will be a long, uphill battle.
The court's decision could be construed as a victory for Mayor Michael Bloomberg, who, facing a primary campaign for re-election last year, appealed the only one of the four cases to win a favorable decision for same-sex marriage in the lower courts. Mayor Bloomberg insisted that he supported gay and lesbian marriage, and filed the appeal only to clarify the parameters of the law and the constitution. However, the court's decision closely tracked the arguments raised by his corporation counsel.
In her often stirring dissent, Chief Judge Judith Kaye, joined by Judge Carmen Beauchamp Ciparick, offered a departure from the dry legal language of the main decision, noting that the plaintiffs represented a cross-section of ordinary New Yorkers, including a police officer, a doctor, a teacher and an artist, who wanted "only to live full lives, raise their children, better their communites and be good neighbors."
Judge Kaye added: "For most of us, leading a full life includes establishing a family," and looking forward to a wedding "as among the most significant events of their lives."
She suggested that it was wrong for the plaintiffs to be denied the rights and responsibilities of civil marriage, "because of who they love," adding that New York had a tradition of equal rights, and "the court today retreats from that proud tradition."
In a lengthy concurrence, Judge Victoria A. Graffeo, a Pataki appointee, agreed with the majority on the constitutional issues, while signaling some sympathy with gay and lesbian couples seeking to be married.
"It may well be that the time has come for the Legislature to address the needs of same-sex couples and their families, and to consider granting these individuals additional benefits through marriage, or whatever status the Legislature deems appropriate," she wrote.
New York lawmakers have not appeared in any rush to act on the issue, although the leading Democratic candidate for governor, Attorney General Eliot Spitzer, has promised gay-rights groups that he will seek to legalize gay marriage if he is elected in November. Mr. Spitzer's Democratic rival in the race, Thomas R. Suozzi, and the Republican nominee, John Faso, oppose legalization of gay marriage.
« on: June 30, 2006, 02:24:05 PM »
Hey all -- I've gotta pick a friend up from BWI on Saturday morning. Only one problem -- I have no car. I was gonna rent a Zipcar for a couple of hours but my key never made it in time. So now I'm stuck. I'm really not trying to take the train out there to Greenbelt and all (too long, too hot, too many bags to carry back), take a cab ($60 bucks each way), or rent a car for a day (too much dough). I could do the Blue Van Supershuttle but that'll cost a bunch as well, especially for two people. Suggestions?
« on: June 29, 2006, 05:47:38 PM »
Are there any here on the board? What do you collect? Are you planning on (or already) carrying this on throughout law school?
I collect Dunks (Nike SBs) though I just began a couple of months ago.
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