Family Reunion

The elder relatives were circulating e-mails recently pertaining to the family reunion. Where would we have it? Who would come? Who will be the designated driver? BYOB? They would ask and reply and forward.

Finally, Cousin Mensa Member defused the debate. She said that it wasn't worth having the reunion. Not enough people were interested, she wrote. Uncle Charitable CEO wrote to the others. Is she just being a martyr? Is this my cue to open up our summer house for the reunion, he queried.

No, Auntie Sweatpants chimed, don't have it at your house. Let's just have it at Local Irish Pub.

Or better yet, Uncle Charitable CEO responded, let's just all go to Local Irish Pub one night and count how many of our family members had the same idea.

Good Counsel

The fact that my paper on free speech was both 1/8 complete and 7/8 incomplete was giving me heartburn. I wanted to start it so that I could complete it. I hated to start it because it was so galactically far from completion.

I woke up this morning and read every webblog and online profile of everyone with whom I have ever attended school. I made some tea and organized my workspace, and then I sat and read a few Supreme Court cases. Then, I read them again. I put on a CD and feigned the need for inspiration. I read the Supreme Court cases and regretted the fact that the CD was both distracting me, and that the CD player was galactically far from my now immaculate workspace.

I called the Good Counselor. "Pop, I have a homework question."

The Good Counselor is handy when one has to write a paper on free speech, particularly in light of historic Supreme Court cases.

I explained my thesis and how I had to reword it, but that I didn't have the words quite for the rewording.

"What is the stare decisis?" he asked.

I looked at my workspace and it seemed a laboratory for a mad professor. I twirled in my swivel chair and sighed.

"Stare du-what?"

"Presently..."

My father, Big Pops, maintains a voicemail message on his business line that I hope he never elects to erase. It is worth calling on your lunch break. It is prime material for a screenplay. It is infamous.

His tone is so severe, you are waiting for him to ask you for proof of citizenship, and what you did - exactly - on Feb. 4, 1983. He could scare ex-boyfriends into last year.

After he announces his name and title, he says, "Presently, I am unavailable due to the fact that I..."

Then, he details every reason why he isn't available to receive your call.
He is on the other line. He is meeting with a client. He got religion.
He has acid indigestion. He just saved a bundle on his car insurance.

It is roughly 7 minutes long.