I Slept Through Con Law: My (likely incorrect) take on Professor Buck Ryan’s Issue.

I keep being tangentially related to scandals and shit this past couple years, and always through former professors.

First it was the case of Pennsylvania Supreme Court Justice J. Michael Eakin, who I learned from and who went out of his way to try and help me find a job immediately out of law school.  He was caught up, unjustly in my opinion, in the whole “Porngate” scandal in Pennsylvania and was eventually forced to resign.  Note:  I have a very nice framed picture of he and I on the evening he swore me into the Pennsylvania Bar, and it’s never coming down.

Now it appears my old journalism professor has gotten in trouble for singing.

Sit back, this is going to be a long post, mostly me gibbering about Constitutional shit, and is subject to being ripped apart by actual intellectual and constitutional practitioners who didn’t spend large portions of Con Law doodling in the margins of their texts.

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Weekend Round-up, 11/21/2016

What happened this weekend?  Well, Trump supported safe spaces, people decided that forcing baristas to say Trump’s name was somehow a punishment, Ted Cruz still looks like Cousin Eddie, and, because even in the fever dream that is 2016 we need some hope, I watched Band of Brothers for the 18th time.

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Fuck You, Soldier, Pay Me.

There’s an area of contract law that deals with voiding out contracts based on a mistake.  Without going into too much detail, because I’m not trying to write a fucking hornbook on the subject, there are two types of mistakes:  Unilateral Mistakes (one guy was a dumbass) and Mutual Mistakes (both guys were dumbasses).  You can’t get a contract thrown out because you alone were a dumbass, you can get one thrown out because everybody was a dumbass.

 
This does not apply to the Pentagon, whose dumbassery is legendary and undeniable.  The dumbassery of the Pentagon, it seems, is so enormous, so monumental, and so expected that it apparently is the legal duty of those under its command to expect them to fuck things up.  Hence the reason that men and women who entered into contracts with it and gave due consideration in the form of years of their lives, their sanity, and their youth are being told those contracts are worth less than toilet paper.  

Of course, the people telling them that are the same dipshits that spend thousands of dollars on a roll of Charmin, so at least there’s that.

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I, For One, Welcome Our Reptilian Overlords

It’s official.  This election year is like a bad science fiction television show. I keep waiting for the part where the candidates remove their realistic flesh masks and reveal themselves as Lizard People.  For the record, if (when) this fuckin’ occurs, I for one, welcome our reptilian overlords.

Think that’s a crazy concept?  More or less crazy than conspiracy theorists pandering to the supporters of a major presidential candidate by stating there is a federal protocol in place to simulate an alien invasion?  I ask, because we all know someone’s reclusive uncle or grandmother who never quite got over the unquestioned trust of Edward R. Murrow is totally going to post the following on Facebook as proof that Hillary Clinton is the harbinger of the apocalypse:

Done watching four minutes of batshit insanity?  Great.  Knock back a slug of your drink of choice, take my sweaty, oversized hand, and let’s travel down this batshit filled rabbit hole together, shall we?

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