Tuesday, August 22, 2006

1st Day Law School

My first day of law school:

If this is it,
please, let me know,
my life is a skid against the toilet bowl,
if this it,
please let me know…

Huey Lewis and the News – 1984

Trimmings from the cannibal banquet:

Speeding down the coiled road to Malibu, I listened to Wendy ordering pizza. I noted ironically the road was called Los Virgenes. Whatever virgins had ever been in my life had long since become extinct. Wendy was a retard—the hard way. She gave Pizza Hut a hellish run for their money. She’s one of my favorites from the Howard Stern show…and yeah she’s really retarded.

That’s when I see the Giant Cross stabbed into the hills like the sword in the stone. Pepperdine Law School. Goddamn, it’s a Christian university. Those places hate guys like me. My grades are good, but my mouth is as dirty as the prison “clean-up” sock. Some things I say aren’t very funny to these types.

The Orientation Mailer looked like a bill for a big tent revival, it stated: “Finding Your Purpose in Law.”

The schedule of events had disappeared into the Middle Earth inside my desk. I recollected that it started at about 9. Was it 9:30? I have a photographic memory, if the camera is held by a blonde down-syndrome child.

In the parking lot some 2L’s were snickering. 2L’s are 2nd year law students. What the hell was so funny? They were the whitest people I ever saw. They were skin-graft children from Donny Osmond’s sunless shins. I asked them where orientation was.

“Are you a first year?” They heckled.
They giggled like satyrs and bounded off. They wore blue jerseys that said Pepperdine Law school on the front. The whole thing had a reek like summer camp. YMCA summer camp.

Colossal paintings of white men with eagle hair stared at me in the halls. They knew I was an imposter. Big Mucky-mucks from the ice age when Pepperdine was still a wee pipe dream by a guy selling car parts. Pepperdine used to be in Compton until the blacks went ape shit and starting ripping shit down. They moved to Orange county and then to Malibu. Maybe that’s why they painted the pictures of those white dudes. Maybe it was their idea to get the hell out of dodge. Malibu? Good Decision.

The pacific hummed at me through the conference room window. The Angel Jimi Hendrix smashed an E Chord and God sprinkled the residual distortion across the waves.

The goslings were panicked. They had been injected with Starbucks ice-blendeds and an old-fashion self-doubt.

Theories about the dreaded FIRST YEAR were exploding everywhere. Lies. All of them lies. No one knows how to really lie like scared rich kids. They’re the best liars. The more entitled, the bigger the lie. The first years whined like malnourished pups.

Some black dude named Terrence told me his girl cried every other day in her first year. I asked him if she was going through menopause. He didn’t get it.

Some freaky Asian chick wouldn’t stop jabbering. She was like C3PO from Taiwan. Come to think of it, R2D2 and C3PO were probably made in Taiwan.

The school divided the classes into sections A, B, C. Taiwan Android was in section C, she wanted to know what it meant.

“It means you’re in the remedial course.”
“Yeah, C’s are already on academic probation. Watch out.”

She collapsed and said, “I knew it.”

Then she told me she was 23. Shit! I forgot. I’m 31 and they’re 23. It’s confirmed. I am a loser. God damn it.

Make no mistake these kids were sick. They were infected. Most of them contracted the money-disease from their parents.

We all got Mentors. Mentors are 2L’s who already know the ropes and will shepherd us, should we develop split personalities from the pressure of the Socratic method. Of course, I am older then my mentor by 6 years.

Some of the male mentors, grabbed up all the hot first years and took them “under their wing.” They got their contact numbers in case they needed any help. Help with what? Help loading their kielbasas into their tuna hatch?

I found myself already separating myself from them. The brain took over and started cutting. It read the atmosphere searching for breathable air. It gauged which life forms I was smarter than. Which ones I’d have to nail with a photon torpedo. The brain calculated a large idiot population. It whispered that I could really shine here.

BRAIN: [whispering] Look at these Nigels. Losers. You have life experience. What do they got? Nothing. You’ve survived victories and failures. They’re just kids. You got a good head on your shoulders. Look at them. Sycophants, all of them. They need approval. They wait for their letters to light up, like…Vanna White. Just well-dressed stooges.

And that’s when I realized, I was the scumbag with a moleskin journal, isolating and writing things about them in my precious little black book. Boy am I delusional. I must remember not to mention this blog to anyone at the Law School.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Beware the inner contempt that hurls you towards the suicidal tendency to email this bog address to the Pepperdine Law Dean. Yes, I am talking about Ken Fucking Starr, he of "many blessings" (see Dean's Message) and the legal gotcha of a jizz-stained dress owned by one Ms. Lewinksy. Of course, it would be a crime (only legal metaphors going forward) to do anything to interrupt your stream of consciousness as you meld with your brethren. I look forward to the following: Pepperdine vs. Paper Chase - an expose of legal myth; Stupid Student Comments; Stupid Faculty Comments; and incredibly insensitive Christian attempts to be sensitive and inclusive of all peoples regardless of race, creed (are those the Indians?) or color. Oh yeah and the invevitable visit from Big Poppa Joe. Good luck, Chu. Keep the faith and keep it coming by the bucketful...ole AyBee

1:48 PM

Anonymous Anonymous said...


Paul L. Crowley, Esq.

3:28 PM


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