Prosecutorial Power

The power of the prosecutor's discretion is discussed at length here with the Genarlow Wilson case. The dude was sentenced to 10 years for consensual oral sex. It's cases like this that are a huge motivation to practice law on that side of things. Then again the massive debt incurred in law school could change that. Ha. But I like to think I am better than that, that I will do the right thing regardless of money or future earnings. The future will be what it is; my freedom to act as I deem proper has a limited impact on reality, there are so many other participants and environmental influences who have a hand in it. I can only act in a manner befitting my knowledge and standards.

The Big Hurt Hits 500

I guess I'll break out of my malaise and celebrate The Big Hurt, Frank Thomas' 500th career home run. Six foot five and a little under 1/7 of a ton, the man was the best right handed hitter in the 1990's (Average season: 185 hits, 36 HR, 123 RBI, .320 BA, 127 BB, 103 R). From 1991 to 1997, in each season Frank hit at least .300, 30 HR, 100 RBI, 100 BB, and 100 Runs Scored. The only players in baseball history to equal these standards are legends Lou Gehrig, Ted Williams, and the now tarnished Jason Giambi - and they only matched them for four consecutive seasons. Not only was he a feared power hitter, he was a fantastic contact hitter and possessed one of the best eyes in the league, evidenced by his high batting average and walk totals. Also, it wasn't until 2002 that his K totals surpassed his BB totals, and in the 90's only eclipsed the 100 barrier once in 1991 (112), a season where he amassed 138 BB's. His career OBP of .423 ranks him 16th all-time and 3rd among active players. His career OPS (which is really a strong indicator of overall offensive worth) of .985 ranks 11th all-time. 'Hurt' also has two league MVP awards, which he won in back-to-back fashion in '93 and '94, and really should have won a third award in 2001 given the steroid revelations of winner Jason Giambi. That third award would have all but guaranteed his enshrinement in Cooperstown as no three time winner is not in the HOF (the list includes Yogi Berra, Roy Campanella, Joe DiMaggio, Jimmie Foxx, Mickey Mantle, and Mike Schmidt). But despite this, and despite his full-time DH-hood (hasn't played 1B more than 49 games since '97 when he played 97), it's pretty clear the man is a first ballot HOF on the basis of his hitting merits alone. And of course, there's always the fact that there are absolutely no steroid suspicions clouding the perception of his perfomance: Frank's always been a massive human being.

Congrats, big man. I'm still going to name my first born son Frank Thomas Lazaroff. I'm willing to trade the rights to years of marital decisions for this. Guess I just need to find a woman who'll have me, but don't worry Frank I'm not going to put a blemish on this exciting day by going "there". You were a massive part of my childhood and will always be my favorite baseball player of all-time. I still tear up when I watch the video of your speech at the World Series Rally. Moving stuff, man. I wish you could have hit 500 in a Sox uniform, but such is the world we live in. We can't always get what we want.

I Will Concede the Small Presence of Paranoia, If You Will Drop the Android Accusations

I have a request on the books for an upload of a live rendition of Radiohead's 'Paranoid Android'. So, enjoy. Here'tis. Straight from the Pinkpop '97 show in the Netherlands. download Lyrics

(I went with an OK Computer era show. I'm right in the heart of a brutal grieving period and Thom's voice during the middle "rain down" section is especially beautiful and moving in this show. It fuckin' kills me. In a good way though. It's like pouring some hydrogen peroxide on a fresh, open wound. The initial seconds are a rush of chaos and pain. Quickly though there is some metamorphosis/transition from pain to healing. Jonny's guitar work is still immaculate as always. It's just a gorgeous recording in general.)

I must say that I do not think that the post was terribly paranoid. I may be paranoid but at least I'm not an android, eh? I process. I feel. I do what I think is right. My human voice and spirit hasn't been completely diluted. I treat every situation as brand new and unique. That's all you can ask for out of a human being.

If you try the best you can, the best you can is good enough

Optimistic (Warrington 2000) lyrics download

You could play the lyrical tangent game all the way throughout their entire catalog. It's a beautiful philosophical, musical web.

How (to Try) to Be The Perfect Human (or How to Appear Completely)

The shortest distance between two points is a straight line.

The solution with the fewest assumptions and contingencies is usually the correct one. Occam's Razor.

My life...not so much. Dense fog and cliffs. Desert mirage's like scenes out of "You've Got Mail". Endings that come at me like beginnings. Beginnings that appear as endings.

The fruits of navigating the labyrinth of interpersonal relationships while trying to maintain a modicum of emotional and intellectual honesty. Not to mention, self-respect.

But that's asking too much. That is putting honesty on a pedestal it can't possibly reach. I don't know why, exactly. And that is the soul crushing part about it.

And there I go. Off into the forest where I will no doubt wallow and weep. I'm there right now, even as I claim not to be. Try as I might, I can't lie to myself. I was just about to try and claim detachment - or, worse, actual contentment - but I am incapable of lying to myself. I am aware of every single decision I make and every decision I abdicate.

Is this level of self-awareness and regulation healthy? It sure is burdensome. But that's alright. I can accept that there is some pain on the path to Eudaimonia. How could there not be? Right. Of course.

I got nothing. I'm writing to try and figure out a way to cope. And it's not coming. But that's ok. I guess it has to be. Maybe acceptance is better wrought through inactivity or not actually consciously thinking and accepting. That sounds a lot like some psychobabble bullshit to me. The bullshit detector is going fucking crazy. But then again, it's been doing that a lot lately. Could be broken. That'd be a bitch, wouldn't it? I probably wouldn't even know it was misfiring. The shapes on the wall would appear as they always do. Real.

Fuck it, though. It's the best chance I have. At what I don't know. But I have to believe myself that it's there. If it's not, then what's the point? If Jane isn't who and what I know her to be, is it suicide from there? Nah. A little too melodramatic and final for my tastes.

The joy of the state I have reached is this: I can't doubt Jane. Not because my future well-being is so distinctly tied to her decisions. No. And not because I simply wave away mounds of evidence to the contrary. There is no ignorance on my part whatsoever.

I know her, man. I don't need to plant memories at the scene of the crime to conjure up happy thoughts. I've experienced her for the last year of my life. I hung on, accepting the Platonic Love that was never more readily available. But it's too important to not stay the way it's been. It's like the puppy who has out grown its cage. We need more space to stretch out our bodies and minds and play.

The most effective coping/understanding/living comes through when I go back to basics: What do I know? Why do I know it? Am I making any assumptions? Am I dismissing anything as negligible? Is it? Am I doing my utmost to understand the world and the people around me? Am I living in tune with all of this music in my head? Am I living with authenticity and purpose?

These are not all "knowable" in the same way I can demonstrate the effect of gravity. Solace is mine despite this. I trust myself. I trust the people I care about. Or else what's the point?

Fantastic Four: The Best Screenplay Ever!

I'm serious. A movie is pretty much a guaranteed success with gems like this one

How do you fight something that eats planets?

I mean, the epistemological, metaphysical, existential, and most importantly, strategical questions posed by this one question are pretty limitless. How can you stop something that eats your environment whole, like a rattlesnake does a mouse. Heavy shit.

And, actually, am I going absolutely batshit, wasn't this slated for release months ago? I feel like I went through this same exact thought process eons ago. Smart move, Fox, I hope you added more philosophical gems to what I'm sure is a masterpiece in schlocky, pretty average cinema that distracts from more important issues and further deadens the masses ability to be human beings.

Thanks in advance.