Starting with justice and working from there.

Location: New York, NY

Thursday, March 02, 2006


I'm in the courthouse elevator today and the doors are about to close. Before they fully shut, a woman who's talking on her cellphone tries to get in. But she doesn't just hold the doors; instead, she rams her kid's stroller forward into the elevator, so that the doors slam into the stroller. We in the elevator gasp; she keeps talking on the cellphone.

It gets better: she's pregnant with the next one. I'm thinking it might be in anticipation of having to replace this one.

Monday, February 27, 2006

More office-wide emails

"Please let me know if you've had a case where drugs were smuggled in a box with Catholic books."

C'mon, you can't make this stuff up!

Thursday, February 16, 2006

Who says crime doesn't pay?

I've got my first crime-related business trip next week: two days in Atlanta, GA, courtesy of international drug cartels and the DEA. Representatives from 15 different crime-fighting jurisdictions will be on hand to discuss their aspect of our joint case.

Apparently, "Hooters" is the fine dining establishment of choice at these meetings. I can't wait: Atlanta AND Hooters in one trip!

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

Guide To Free NYC Events

Includes movies, dance, hikes and so forth.


Thursday, February 02, 2006

Office emails

At some jobs, employees get cheery office-wide emails about condo shares or stern administrative emails about improper internet usage.

This is what my office sends out to everyone:

"Map Sex Offenders is a free website that pairs official sex offender registry information with a Google map. Simply type in an address, city, state and zip code. The website will pull up a map that pinpoints all the registered sex offenders in the given area."


Wednesday, February 01, 2006

Sweet science study

According to today's Times, "[m]arried women under extreme stress who reach out and hold their husbands' hands feel immediate relief... The most profoundly comforting hand-holding was between "supercouples," whose scores on the marriage questionnaire reflected a extremely close relationship."

The study also found that the pain of being rejected by a loved one registered in the same part of the brain as physical pain. Love really can hurt.


Sam Alito, Jr.

My grandfather was an unusually friendly and gregarious fellow. And he just burst his buttons when he thought about his grandkids. Consequently, he tended to, well, proudly acclaim our accomplishments to his colleagues. His last job was as Director of Taxation for the State of New Jersey, so his colleagues were governors, senators and state legislators.

One of the state legislators was Sam Alito, Senior. Sam Alito, Senior was also very proud of his family. His kids, in particular. And so, Pop-pop and Sam Alito would toss stories back and forth about the respective accomplishments of their offspring. ("Did you hear? Becky got into Harvard." "Really? Sam graduated high in his class at Princeton.")

My grandfather died three years ago. Alito's dad died a few years back, as well. When my grandmother heard that Alito had been nominated for the Supreme Court, she wrote him a letter about her memories of his father. She hasn't heard back, but he's probably been a little busy.

I know my grandfather was very proud of us and that he was a bit competitive in his pride. I'm very protective of my grandfather and his ideals, so I'm feeling a little bit dejected these days about the whole Alito confirmation process. As one of my friends pointed out, it does appear that the Alito family may have won the accomplishments competition.

I'm taking heart, though. Enough blog entires and maybe there's a Pulitizer Prize in there. Then we'd have won. Maybe.

Monday, January 30, 2006

That hamische feeling

When I was growing up, our town in upstate New York was small and utterly remote. (pause).. Obliging, unseen audience: How small and remote was it? Well, here’s an illustrative story: one day, my sister was telling a grown-up that we were going to “The City” that weekend. “Oh!” came the approving reply. “You’re going to Utica?”

Alright, that gives you an idea.

And there were just as many Jews in my town as you’d expect, also. (Actually, there were a fair number proportionally, but it was still a very small number in fact.) So, when I moved to New York, the acculturation process was startling. People of all backgrounds talked about ‘megillahs’ and ‘shmears’ and ‘chutzpah,’ all Yiddish words that no one in my small town had heard of. It was an adjustment, but not a bad one.

Nowhere, though, is this presence of Jews more strongly felt than in the legal community. I actually love when these gruff, old Jewish defense attorneys call and try to wheedle me with references to our common heritage. It doesn’t ultimately make a difference – beyond the difference that it ever makes when an attorney approaches me in a friendly manner – but it certainly is my favorite shtick (see? New Yorkers know this word, too).

Best of all, though, is my new favorite example of the absolute pervasiveness of Jews in the New York City legal practice. A few weeks ago, I went to a committee meeting at the Association of the Bar of the City of New York. The setup was quite nice: clean conference rooms with all sorts of drinks and finger foods. There was soda, water, cheese, and fruit.

And there were latkes and applesauce.