inconsequential details

As many of you may know, I recently got back from a month-long vacation in India. That's a long vacation, especially in such an overwhelming country as India. And yet, when people ask to hear my stories about India, I never really have any. After all, saying, "I rode an elephant" isn't particularly exciting, even though it was a very fun experience.



I've been thinking about this a fair amount recently, since I finally caved in to popular demand and invited several friends to come over on Sunday for dinner and a vacation report. Thinking about which pictures to show and what to say about them has make me reflect on the vacation reports I used to endure as a child. It's not that I minded hearing about other countries or seeing pictures of other places. In fact, I quite enjoyed my dad's pictures and stories of Italy.

It was my grandparents' (bless their hearts) vacation reports that were so painful. Their pictures were fine, but you'd have to sit looking at the same picture for five minutes while they argued about inconsequential details that no one except them cared about.

"So, this is a picture of a large tree we saw in SomeRandomVillage."

"No, dear. I believe you're mistaken. That's actually a tree we saw in SomeOtherPlace."

"No, that's not correct. SomeOtherPlace is where we visited that nice church, and we didn't see the tree there. We saw the tree at SomeRandomVillage, where we also were shown that one well."

"No, dear. The well was at YetAnotherPlace, the church was at SomeRandomVillage, and the tree was at SomeOtherPlace."

"I'm sure you're mistaken. YetAnotherPlace is where we met that one guy who told us that one story. The church was definitely at SomeOtherPlace. We visited there on August 15, and that's when we saw the church."

"No, dear. We were in YetAnotherPlace on August 15. We visited SomeOtherPlace on the 14th. You should remember that. It was right after we celebrated the village festival at SomeRandomVillage on the 13th."

By this point, I would no longer be paying attention. I'd be vowing yet again that I would never get argue about inconsequential details, at least in front of other people who didn't care about them.

I made this promise to myself several times in my childhood, and I feel I've done a fairly good job of keeping it. (My family can feel free to disagree with this statement, if they want.)

The trick, of course, is deciding which details are really inconsequential. For instance, sometimes I decide that my name isn't all that important, so I won't bother correcting the people who call me Christie or Sarah instead of Cindy. But this has sometimes resulted in confusion when these people have turned around and introduced me as Christie to people who already know my real name.

Or, there was always the time that some girl called my apartment and said something that made me think she was one of my roommates' friends. As our conversation continued, I began to have my doubts, but I didn't realize for sure that she wasn't who I thought she was (and I wasn't who she thought I was) until a few minutes into the conversation. She had apparently dialed the wrong number, although her imbecilic identification of herself only as "me" at the beginning of her conversation had not given me enough information to figure this out from the onset. It seemed, though, that it would probably be easier to just go along with it than to correct her misapprehension at this advanced stage in our conversation. So, I just gave what seemed like reasonable but short responses to everything she said, hoping that she'd hang up the phone soon and I could get back to my studying.

It soon became clear, however, that the minor detail of misidentification might not be so inconsequential after all. She began asking about some planned "grocery store scheme" that she herself described as "sketchy," and she wanted to know whether I was having second thoughts about doing it. I was beginning to feel rather more uncomfortable with my inadvertent deception, but it seemed that telling her she had the wrong number at this point might introduce more problems than it would solve. Not wanting to condone any sketchy behavior, I simply told her that I'd decided that we'd better not do it -- I thought it would be best to avoid anything bordering on sketchiness. (Perhaps a rather ironic statement considering my situation at the moment.) Fortunately, the conversation ended soon after this, although the awkward feeling lingered a little longer.

So, perhaps the goal to avoid correcting people's errors can be taken to an extreme. And sometimes those details really do turn out to be important.

I've also realized that details can turn a dreary story into an interesting one. I think I finally told the elephant story right on Monday. Not that there is much of a story to it, but almost anything is an improvement over "I rode an elephant and it was fun."

On Monday, I realized that my audience was interested, so I described the scene for them -- the lush jungle, the quiet elephants, the mahouts in their brightly colored shirts and dhotis walking alongside and taking pictures with tourists' cameras in exchange for modest tips, and, in particular, our mahout,who walked along beside us reading his newspaper and drinking his cup of tea, while occasionally yelling out commands or singing softly to the elephant.

Rather than being inconsequential, those details really convey the essence of the story. But if my sisters want to correct me about any of the details, I won't disagree (even if I think they're wrong).

Wouldn't It Be Funny If . . .

Or, The Curious Adventures of the Broken Car Key

A few months ago the plastic part on the top of my car key broke. The key still works fine, but I can no longer connect it to my key fob. This has turned out to be more of a problem than originally anticipated.

Let's first discuss the trip back from my family reunion in Albuquerque. Things were going along fine, at first. And then, as I turned on the cruise control and moved foot off the brake, the hazard lights suddenly began blinking. This freaked me out a bit, and I quickly turned the cruise control off and stepped on the gas to see if it would help. It did -- the hazard lights turned off as suddenly as they'd begun. Things were fine for another 20 minutes or so. And then the hazard lights began flashing again. I didn't have the cruise control on this time, but I started to think that maybe there was something going on with the electrical system, so I turned off the air conditioning and the stereo. This seemed to solve the problem, at least temporarily. But soon enough, there were those hazards again. They began going off more and more often, as I kept trying to make adjustments to see what would help. And then another problem popped up. As I was passing someone, my horn suddenly started honking repeatedly. I tapped it, and it shut off. But maybe 15 minutes later, it started honking again, and this time I couldn't get it to turn off for probably a full minute.

Early on in these difficulties, I said that I hoped this wouldn't be so serious that we'd need to stop and have someone look at the car, since I'd rather have my own trusty mechanic look at it. And I mentioned one of the benefits with my mechanic: if it turned out that I was just being an idiot -- like, say, the time I drove around with my window down for a whole month because I thought the mechanism wasn't functioning, and it turned out the window was just locked -- he'd tell me, in the nicest way possible, that there was nothing actually wrong with the car, rather than making something up and charging me to fix an imaginary problem. Wouldn't it be funny, I thought, if this turned out to be something equally stupid.

Some time later, after making frantic phone calls to my parents and to some relatives who lived down the road, I suddenly started connecting the dots. There were only two weird things going on: the hazard lights blinking and the horn honking repetitively. And these two things have one main thing in common: the panic button. Because my key was broken, only the key itself was in the ignition, while the key fob was in my pant pocket, being jostled every time I moved my leg to, say, let off on the gas when I turned on the cruise control. Although the horn and the hazards weren't going off at the same time like you'd expect, it still seemed like there was probably a connection here. So, to test it out, I pulled the key fob out of my pocket and put it somewhere safe. Sure enough, it was smooth sailing from then on. And we had a very nice visit with the relatives. I was also glad that I solved this mystery before bothering my mechanic once again with my stupidity, even though he's very nice about it.

This was the most dramatic problem, but I've had much more trouble with misplacing my keys recently, now that they're not all connected. That car key is also kind of slippery, so I've dropped it in countless places. Luckily, I've always heard it fall and been able to retrieve it immediately. I have not always found it so easily when it's been lost, however.

A few weeks ago, I lost my key and couldn't find it anywhere. I ended up pulling out my spare key and using that. Just a month ago, one of my college roommates reminded me of the time I lost my dorm key for about a month and then found it, quite by happenstance, in my backpack. With this story in mind, I searched my backpack for my car key, thinking that it would be funny if I'd managed to lose my key in my backpack again. But I had no luck.

And then today, while walking out of the church building with a friend, I realized that the key I'd just pulled out of my purse was my regular car key, not the spare I thought I was going to see. It took me quite by surprise. When I looked in my purse later, though, I now couldn't find the spare. And then I remembered that I'd gotten this key from my backpack earlier in the morning. I wondered if possibly I just hadn't realized that it was the regular key when I retrieved it from the backpack. Sure enough, the spare turned out to still be in my backpack. So yes, I apparently did lose my key in my backpack for a substantial amount of time yet again.

They say those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it. I remember it all right, but despite my best efforts I seem to have a knack for repeating my more stupid moments. It's a gift.

the jinx

(If you're also one of my facebook friends, sorry for the repeat.)

This morning, I sliced my finger open on a can lid, dropped most of the band-aids in the toilet while dripping blood all over the bathroom, and went to work without my badge, which meant I had to wait in line at the metal detector and wear a visitor nametag. (Incidentally, the security guard who looked at my driver's license did not just verify my name. He was seriously reading everything on there. I felt like asking him if he was planning on sending me a birthday card or something.)

As I reflected on my misfortunes, I thought to myself, "Wow, this really was not my morning. Well, it could have been worse. At least I didn't burn the house down." As soon as I had this thought, I realized the folly of thinking such things and immediately tried to mentally retract this thought so that I wouldn't jinx myself.

And, I think I half succeeded -- although I apparently also forgot to turn the oven off this morning, the house is still intact. Just really, really hot.

It's too bad my mental ability to jinx myself is so much stronger than my mental ability to actually think and not do dumb things in the morning.

inheritance

This might just be funny to genetics nerds, but it made me laugh.


For some great hypotheses about the modes of inheritance that could explain this pattern, see the blog comments on the Volokh Conspiracy.

something to read

I've been on a Jane Austen kick this month, and today I came across some of her work that I'd never read before. It's a parody of a history book that she wrote for her sister at the age of fifteen, and it made me laugh. Here's a sample:

Henry the 4th

Henry the 4th ascended the throne of England much to his own satisfaction in the year 1399, after having prevailed on his cousin & predecessor Richard the 2nd to resign it to him, & to retire for the rest of his Life to Pomfret Castle, where he happened to be murdered. It is to be supposed that Henry was married, since he had certainly four sons, but it is not in my power to inform the Reader who was his Wife. Be this as it may, he did not live for ever, but falling ill, his son the Prince of Wales came and took away the crown; whereupon the King made a long speech, for which I must refer the Reader to Shakespear's Plays, & the Prince made a still longer. Things being thus settled between them the King died, & was succeeded by his son Henry who had previously beat Sir William Gascoigne.

You can access the whole thing from this link.

wheelchairs

Have you ever looked at a person in a wheelchair and thought, "Why is life so unfair sometimes?"

I just did. I thought, "Why can't I be in a wheelchair? I'm too tired to keep walking home. Why does that person get a motorized wheelchair and I don't? Life's not fair!"

Hopefully this will not cause karmic retribution like joking about people with turf toe did.

how to obtain help in life (without even trying)

Today's helpful hint is a way of getting people to volunteer to help you without ever having to ask them. I discovered this quite by accident last night, but I think it should prove very effective in the future as well.*

Here's what you do: Simply describe the activity you need help with in such a way that people will not want to to miss out on seeing you attempt it. The following sample conversation may give you some guidance as you attempt to incorporate this technique into your own life.

Friend 1: Hey Cindy, what are you plans for the holiday tomorrow?

Cindy: Well, I'm going to replace the wax seal on the base of my toilet.

Friend 1: How do you do that? Just put it around the bottom?

Cindy: Not exactly. You see, first I've got to go to the hardware store to get myself a hacksaw. Then, after hacking and sawing off the bolts that hold the toilet onto the floor, I'll pick the toilet up and flip it upside down. I'll put the wax seal on the bottom, grab the toilet and flip it back right-side up, and put it back in place. And, that's basically it.

Friend 1: Um, okay. I hope I don't get a phone call from the elder's quorum tomorrow asking for help stopping a major flood in your house.

Cindy: Oh, I don't think that'll be a problem. It's more likely that I'll accidentally hack a limb off or get crushed by the toilet when I try to flip it over.

Friend 2: Can I come watch!?! I mean, help?

*Results may vary. Nice friends are required. Favorable results may be more difficult to obtain if you are not a hapless female known for doing things like giving yourself a concussion just by opening a door.

next up, Everest

Today I achieved a life-long goal.

That's right -- I won a game of Hearts with a grand total of 0 points in the end. Check it out:


And all while I was being distracted by the Prabhas DVD I was half-watching.

I think I'll celebrate by fixing the toilet I was supposed to start working on when I got up seven hours ago.

misunderstandings

Last weekend my sister and I watched an unsubtitled Telugu film. We ended up enjoying the movie, for the most part, and we understood most of what was going on. We did misunderstand a few things, though, as became evident when we read the detailed synopsis on the back of the DVD cover.

For instance, after watching the movie we discussed how un-PC the portrayal of Africa was, and not just because of the actors in blackface.

Take, for example, the powerful traditional drugs the villagers share with our protagonists, which cause them to lose all their inhibitions and do things they wouldn't otherwise have done, being decent, civilized Indian people.


But then, my sister and I discovered that we'd gotten it all wrong. In the inimitable words of the DVD cover:

Srilata was [Sreenivas's] tour guide when he visited Europe. . . . As the day of the wedding is approaching fast, the thick plots unveils by Sreenivas suspecting that there is something fishy about Srilata. When he forces her to admit the story . . . then Srilata confesses that when Sreenivas visited Europe, they happened to get blown with the magic liquid that was given by tribals out there.

So this film didn't have anything to do with Africa at all. These were just your standard European tribals who live in the jungle and give visitors magic liquids. And that's why movies should have subtitles, so we don't have any confusion about things like this.

European tribals

See, it's totally obvious now, isn't it?

perils of honest speech

As discussed previously, I have learned through sad experience to be strictly honest. This, coupled with the extensive time I spend doing nit-picky editing, has made me very particular about being accurate and precise in my speech. And this, in turn, has made me a boring conversationalist.

I know people don't generally care whether verbal speech is completely accurate and cited correctly. Indeed, I know that this is generally quite annoying. And yet, I feel a compulsion to make sure that I'm reporting things accurately and citing my sources, adding a disclaimer if I can't do so. "This reminds me of a humorous anecdote my boss was telling me the other day. Now, I don't remember all of this story completely, so I may not be getting all of the details right in places. I'll alert you to these areas as we go along. I should also point out that I cannot vouch for the complete accuracy of this story, as my boss does like to embellish things a bit. At any rate, proceeding with my story, . . . ."

This is all quite unfortunate, because there are many stories that are a lot better when you take certain liberties with the truth and fill in the blanks in memory or understanding. For instance, I could report that the Muslim taxi driver who picked me up at the Denver airport was disappointed when he learned that I was originally from California and not Utah because he would have asked me out if I was interested in bigamy.

But, I don't know if this is true. He definitely said something that he found very amusing about "Cali ladies" and "Utah ladies" and bigamy, but I couldn't actually hear everything he was saying. Unfortunately, this makes for a much less interesting story. And that's the problem with being honest. It makes you boring.*

*Disclaimer: The opinions expressed in this blog post are not necessarily an accurate reflection of my thoughts and beliefs.

honestly speaking

Honesty is the best policy. I believe this in a moral sense, but I've also discovered it to be true in practice -- even when I think I have a good reason for some slight dishonesty, it seems like something happens to nudge me back onto the straight and narrow.

For example, on one occasion, I decide to ride the Metro without a valid ticket, rationalizing that this is better than being stranded in East St. Louis at night without a phone, money, credit cards, or pepper spray. And that happens to be the one time in a thousand when they actually come through the train to check for tickets.

Frequently (although much less frequently nowadays), I decide that it will be less effort to let people continue in some misconception (i.e., that my name is Christy, that I'm the person they meant to call and not a wrong number, that I don't mind eating peppers, etc.) rather than correcting them. I inevitably turn out to be wrong.

On a trip to Denver, I see that the only open window seat is in the exit row, so I change my reservation to that seat. When the flight attendant asks if I can handle opening a 40-pound exit door and assisting other passengers, I say "yes." I mean, I probably could. Maybe. But it's not like it matters anyway. How likely is it that something bad will actually happen on a short flight to Denver?

Ten minutes later, when the alarm starts blaring, smoke starts pouring out of the back of the cabin, and the flight attendant runs down the aisle, I begin seriously reconsidering that decision.

I've heard of people getting caught in their lies before, but I'm the only one I know of who almost got caught in a lie about being capable of opening an exit door. And that's why, for me, honesty is the best policy. Someone seems to be sending me a message, and I think I'd better listen.

Quote of the Day

"You can't have your spine and brain back."

I rather doubt that phrase has been spoken in a federal appellate court before. (It made sense in context, but still.)

tidbits of court history

Today I started reading the history of the Tenth Circuit (which is available here, although I'm reading it in book format). It's turned out to be quite interesting. At least, I find it so. Here are a few interesting tidbits from the first three chapters:

• Early pioneers in Western states set up mining courts to make up for the lack of statutory territorial courts. These mining courts, especially the ones in Colorado, were quite important and influenced both mining law and water rights law in Western states. (Water rights came into play because of placer mining, which requires substantial quantities of water.)
• One of the first three territorial judges appointed in Kansas, Rush Elmore of Alabama, brought his slaves with them. It was so cold that the slaves couldn't work, and the judge's wife, who had never cooked before, spent the winter feeding the slaves while the judge was kept busy cutting wood to keep them warm. (This judge was removed from office by the president for an Indian lands deal, but he was later reappointed. He was removable by the president because, as a territorial judge, he was a legislative judge rather than an Article III judge and thus didn't need to be impeached to be removed from office.)
• The first chief justice of the Kansas territory was often too busy with his potato farm to hold court. He also worked as a soldier at a nearby army camp and was an officer of a pro-slavery organization.
• Some territorial judges never actually did any judicial work, like Thomas Cuningham, who traveled out to Kansas after his appointment, didn't like it, and promptly resigned.
• Governor Reed of Kansas, upon the appointment of Judge Richard Hopkins to the bench in 1929, described the federal judiciary as a "growing stench in the nostrils of decent people."
• Judge Symes of the District of Colorado has been described as someone who "was not a scholar of the law, but his decisions were generally regarded as fair. In the words of one who practiced extensively before Judge Symes, 'the cases usually came out right but it was tough to figure out how.'" T. Fetter, A History of the Federal Courts of the Tenth Circuit 34 (1978) (unpublished manuscript on file in the Library of the United States Court of Appeals for the Tenth Circuit) (quoting interview with Judge Jean Breitenstein (May 17, 1977))). Also, this judge went bear-hunting.
  
• Judge William Knous of the District of Colorado shot off the first joint of his left forefinger while in grade school and earned his tuition money for law school by boxing. In 1928, he ran for state representative and won by a wide margin. He was a Democrat, but he carried one precinct by every vote cast, even those of the Republican committeeman and woman. "Each figured the other would vote for the Republican candidate and they could claim the vote."
• Judge Jean Breitenstein of the District of Colorado was an expert on water rights law. When he joined the bench, he was temporarily assigned to the federal district court in Philadelphia to try an admiralty case. Apparently the folks in Washington didn't know the difference between water law and admiralty.
• In a speech to the Daughters of the American Revolution in 1956, Judge Breitenstein defended the use of atomic power and said, "So long as we have to anticipate difficulty with powerful nations guided by amoral concepts . . we must be ready to oppose them with the force their philosophy will permit them to use." Denver Post, June 13, 1956 (quoting Judge Breitenstein).

Also, I find this quote on page 71 of the book really thought-provoking: "As society requires some regulation of conduct, the first condition of freedom is its limitation."

As another bit of trivia for you, only one Tenth Circuit judge has died since 1992. That's including active, senior, and retired judges. Impressive, no?

"I'm, uh, faster than a bear."

This news story from Cleveland made me laugh a lot. Well, not the story so much as the visuals. Someone seems to have had too much time on his hands.

story time

Yesterday I was sitting at the bus stop near my house when a guy came and sat on the bench by me. He launched into a story about how much he loves wearing lilac tights, but he said it in such a way that I couldn't tell whether he was crazy or just pretending to be so. Either way, he was pretty amusing.


To understand this next part of the story, you have to keep in mind that I can't lie, and I'm very bad at evading direct questions. Thus, when he asked where I worked, I went ahead and told him the building. It's pretty big and has lots of different kinds of offices in it, so I thought it wouldn't be too identifying. But then he said, "Oh yeah, you work on the sixth floor, right?" That's right, but I don't know how he knew it. I've never seen him there, and he later told me that he has a restraining order preventing him from entering this building. So I don't know if he just guessed correctly or if there's something creepier afoot. At any rate, I was a bit freaked out by this.

Fortunately, the bus came soon after that, and he didn't get on it. Before that, though, he commented on my whiteness, pointed out how much darker his skin was than mine, and asked if I found "dark-complected men" attractive. (Incidentally, this is the not the first time someone has tried to pick me up at the bus stop by asking me this question. Who knew it would be such a popular approach?) I got on the bus without answering because I didn't want to tell him the truth, which is that---well, just take a look at my recent blog entry over here.

Crazy guys, on the other hand, are not attractive to me. Sorry, crazies of the world, but I'm going to shoot you down every time, regardless of whether you've got awesome lilac tights or not.

I am . . . confused

Dumm Dumm Dumm is a very cute romantic comedy. It's about a boy and a girl who try to get out of an arranged marriage through a series of increasingly desperate schemes, and it's got a lot of really funny moments. But, the funniest part of the movie might just be the subtitles for the songs. They're apparently very literal translations of very poetic lyrics, and the result is just bizarre. Like this, for instance:


Or this:
Fabulous.

a vampire song

In case you were wondering what a singing and dancing vampire might look like, here's a fun song from a 1989 Telugu film to give you an idea. Okay, so the guy isn't a real vampire, but he's pretending to be one. (The heroine enjoys scaring men by saying she'll elope with them if they meet her behind the church at night and then staging frightening effects like coffins opening and ghosts appearing behind headstones. But, the hero knows about this, so he brings along his vampire costume and troupe of back-up skeletons to turn the tables on her. ) The vampire part starts about halfway through.

a random link

Usually the legal blogs I read are informative, but they're not always very entertaining. But this post about Playmobil's airline screening playset made me laugh.

United States v. Vampire Nation: The Movie

So, here are my casting ideas for the two lead roles.

As the renegade cop/fighter pilot/vampire slayer who heads the U.S. resistance to the vampire invasion: Will Smith, of course.

As the king of the Vampire Nation: Hrithik Roshan.

The film will be like Dhoom 2 in that Hrithik will nominally be the bad guy but will really be totally awesome. (And he'll make an infinitely better-looking vampire than that other dude in that one film). Then in the end it'll turn to all have been a big misunderstanding between the United States and the Vampire Nation, and he and Will Smith will ride off on a motorcycle singing "Yeh Dosti" together.

Yep, this movie will be fabulous.

a funny link, and thoughts that follow

This webpage makes me laugh.

I think part of why it's so funny to me is that I sometimes have a similar experience reading pro se briefs. I'm not saying that cavemen appear in the office or anything like that, but the combination of bad handwriting, interesting spelling, and creative grammar can make pro se briefing very funny at first glance. I'll read a sentence to myself based on what I see, and then if it doesn't make sense I have to figure out if I misread some of the letters or if the guy might have meant a different word than the one he apparently wrote. "Surely he didn't say the policeman found out he had thrown a baby," I'll think to myself. "Even this guy isn't that crazy. Oh, I get it -- he said the policeman found out 'through a lady.' That makes much more sense." But my initial reading sometimes makes me laugh.

Speaking of crazy pro se parties, many people are familiar with the famous case of United States ex rel. Mayo v. Satan and his Staff, but I recently came across another case with an equally provocative name: United States v. Vampire Nation. Doesn't that sound like a great B-movie horror flick title?

This is why I get so easily distracted during lectures or talks -- it's a short jump for me from comments about poorly written internet remarks to a mental image of a colony of bats descending on New York City and turning into vampires on the ground, while Will Smith looks on disbelievingly and says, "Aw, hell no!"

Of course, thinking of Will Smith makes me think about that time he sang "Aati Kya Khandala" on Indian Idol, so then I start thinking about what the Bollywood version of United States v. Vampire Nation would be like. And that makes me laugh as much as that original webpage did.