Drawing First Blood

Hello fellas,

This is but a week-old blog but I sure am glad with the response. This inspires me more to explore Law School life's most promising misadventures. I will be there every wrong step of the way. Blogging our misfortunes. Ridiculing our oft-times embarassing moments. For sure, this blog is not for the thin-skinned or the faint-hearted. This blog is for those dreaming to become future members of the Blogging Lawyers Organization Of Davao (BLOOD) which we hope to register with the SEC in two to three years or whoever gets there first.

While we are wrestling our wits now to become future members of that bloody society, this blogger encourages you to not only follow the blogs here but also follow the threads and join us in the comments section where the stories of our lives are documented.

We will gladly welcome your thoughts.

And yes, your devil-may-care views, your what-the-heck-this-is-a-free-f_ucking-country insights.

Write on, fellas. This serves as our Blood Compact.

Closing the book

Alright, this whole Prom thing has to end.

To cap this madness, let's give it up to the mad mind who masterminded this all.

You got to be privileged being able to test the wits out of people. I love doing it. Gives me the chance to know who was early out of bed when God showered wits in this world. For sure some came ahead and ran away with a lot of loot. These were a bunchof smart people, I must say. Too tough to call. But not everyone is created equal afterall, which I guess defies the biblical passage that all men are created equal. One thing sure, it is always gratifying to know what someone has to say.

Most men like what's between your legs, baby. But I like what's between your ears more.

This time, the Men

Talk about vanity. I have splashed the photos of the lovely ladies here. Vanity though is not the women's monopoly. The men, too, play vanity fair.

The men of this Law School come in different shapes and sizes too (depends on what you are measuring). My apologies to those I have not photographed. I still think, as an amateur photographer, women are better subjects than men. This time though, let's give it to the men. There are those who looked and smelled Cosmopolitan. Some are GQ quality. Some are just plain busy to create and I must admit I belong to this category and that is why I spared myself from this post.

You be the judge, ladies.

Private Lessons

Wednesday night while hitting some balls with the bratpack at the driving range, Adolf found someone he could not find in the Prom last Friday--somebody good at both the shaft and the balls. Alright, I gave Adolf a few tips on how to grip his stick and rip those balls. Swing it like a waiter, dewd.

Then he went on hitting a few. Like anyone who had swung a golf club for the first time, Adolf either hit or miss the ball. Then came his teaching pro to the rescue.

Silently, Adolf and his newfound lady 'teaching pro' went on with their private lessons. She must be good because he was starting to hit it square.

Since Adolf was making progress, the rest of the pack pretended not to notice. I entertained the Korean owner so he too would not notice the teaching lessons going on elsewhere with some 250-yarders as I licked the bucket clean. Then came bye bye time.

"Come back, I'll teach you more," said the lady 'pro' all too sweetly. Adolf answered with a smile.

Traces of..."Come back, Jack. I'll teach you how to whack."

Adolf was not about ready for a wham-bam-thank-you-maam, but if there is something common between student and teacher that night. They both wore red.

Sweet.

The Prom, one more time

Due to insistent public demand, I am bringing back the Prom blog in here with some photos published by request. Those who wanted to comment may just fire away. This is a free country.

Styf here asked her controversial photo published, so she has deemed to have waived her right to question this publication.Tisha has got some more here, and Cris too. Of course, we cannot accommodate everyone's request, but we're glad you did visit this blog and scribbled some comments. 

De minimus non curat lex

In our Torts class, the humor-mill-of-a-professor explained to us the idea that the law does not provide remedies for slights -- and gave us a Latin phrase de minimus non curat lex.

I must have remembered that Latin phrase Wednesday night while the Law School bratpack went on a golfing misadventure at a Korean-owned driving range near Southpoint School.

I brought my trusty driver and 8 and 5 irons for variety. Sweet brought a 9 and a 7, and no, not please...a putter. I forgot to tell her we are heading off to the driving range. That's excuseable. Da Colonel came dressed to the occasion. If the Shepherds of the game in the old Royal and Ancient Golf Club of St. Andrews were awake , they would have risen from their grave and make this man an Honorary member with all the rights and privileges. Who goes to play golf in long sleeved shirt neatly tucked in jeans? Well, Da Colonel got away with it again.

He hit square a few balls which was impressive for a neophyte. Then came the shot that drew all the attention in the range. He took my 8 iron and blasted away. The ball dropped inches away from the tee. The club? It flew 25 yards away.

Da Colonel didn't even have to shout, "Fore!"

Then again, who cares? A newcomer gets away with so much.

De minimus non curat lex.

Joke Time!

Here are ACTUAL excerpts of court proceedings from around the US. This article recently appeared in the Salt Lake Tribune.

Was that the SAME nose you broke as a child?

Now, doctor, isnt it true that when a person dies in his sleep, in most cases he just passes quietly away and doesn't know anything about it until the next morning?

Q. What happened then?A. He told me, he says, "I have to kill you because you can identify me."Q. Did he kill you ?

Was it YOU or your brother that was killed in the war?

The youngest son, the 20-year-old, how old is he?

Were you alone... or by yourself?

Do you have children, or anything of that kind?

Q. I show you exhibit 3 and ask you if you recognize that picture.A. Yes, that's me.Q Were you present when that picture was taken?Were you present in court this morning when you were sworn in?

Q. Now, Mrs. Johnson, how was your first marriage terminated?A. By death.Q. And by whose death was it terminated?

Q. Do you know how far pregnant you are now?A. I'll be 3 months on November 8.Q Apparently, then, the date of conception was August 8?A. Yes.Q. What were you doing at that time?

Q . Mrs. Jones, do you believe you are emotionally stable?A . I used to be.Q. How many times have you committed suicide?

So you were gone until you returned?

Q She had three children, right?A Yes.Q How many were boys?A None.Q Were there girls?

You don't know what it was, and you didn't know what it looked like, but can you describe it?

Q. You say that the stairs went down to the basement?A. Yes.Q And these stairs, did they go up also?

Q. Have you lived in this town all your life?A. Not yet.

A Texas attorney, realizing he was on the verge of unleashing a stupid question, interrupted himself and said, "Your Honor, I'd like to strike the next question."Q. Do you recall approximately the time that you examined the body of Mr. Edington at the Rose Chapel?A. It was in the evening. The autopsy started about 8:30 pm.Q. And Mr. Edington was dead at the time, is that correct?A. No, he was sitting on the table wondering why I was doing an autopsy!

Musica ex machina (Music of the machine)

Looks can be deceiving.

I took a ride with my classmate Julius' sporty Honda Civic Tuesday night for dinner with the Law School bratpack (Adolf, Sweet, Karen G, Da Colonel, and me). The thought of a Bicol palate feast made me salivate right off the first gear. Since the ride will take a quarter of an hour, PNP's newest Colonel doodled his fingers on his car stereo. The selection was vast, huh. Earth, Wind and Fire, Beegees, ABBA, Beatles, Jon Bon Jovi. Impressive. Then he finally landed on his pick. Like a dj, he plucked his choice and played it.

You know what that was?

Rey Valera, dewds.

Yup. On a sporty Honda Civic with 17-inch chrome rims yet. You can imagine the blend of Rey Valera's sharp voice and the booming baritone of the car's Sebring exhaust pipe each time he steps on the gas.

What a man!

Oops, let's not risk running into trouble with a Police Senior Superintendent (PSS), or risk being barred from ever riding his wheels.

Da Colonel is not a bad singer afterall.

His favorite?

Rivermaya.

At least, he doesn't sing Rey Valera.

Peace, Colonel.

(Turncoat)

From my Prom Entries: My Top Picks

This is moot and academic now. Alright, Sweet ran away with the choice for Lady of the Night. Adolf couldn't escape winning the much coveted Man of the Night sash. The tandem was handpicked by an infallible judge in Atty. Santos Torrena. No opposition here. No objections. No protests.

Adolf and Sweet probably had those sashes proudly pinned on their walls now. Or maybe laminated. Encased in glass. An achievement comparable to a Pulitzer or a Nobel Prize. I am sorry for those who missed out on the award. Karen was just missed out by the judges. Jigs should have protested the last minute entry of Adolf. But that's how the cookie crumbles. I would have gone for my good ole buddy Engr. Tambagan but he hied off early in Cinderella fashion before the clock struck 9.

Other than the two awards, I got my own top picks for the best photographed ladies of the night. Here they are.

More Transformers

Just when you think you had enough, you come out wrong. Scanning through more of my files, I unravelled more skeletons inside the closet. Hehehe. That's an exaggeration. I'll settle with the proverbial snakes from Pandora's box. I saw dragon on one's back. Bunny ears. And, oh yes. In this hall, you can hardly distinguish the waiters from the guests. The key here is to keep seated so that no one calls you "waiter." Kidding aside, the men generally look dashing in their suits. Looking every inch cosmopolitan. Y'know what I mean?

Here's more from my Hall of Shame...err Defame, err infame. Lame, dame. Whatever.

Meet the Transformers

Let me call them "The Transformers."

They are the beautiful ladies I saw Friday night. I thought it was first acquaintance, but then I realized this was the UM Law School Prom night. The heck. These are my classmates. I hardly recognized them. There are some categories I can make out of this.

From reality to beauty. From simple to sophisticated. From the shell to the ramp.

There were those who transformed rather differently. The men included.

From friendster to hustler. From would-be lawyer to would-be rapist (you know who? hahahaha). From shy to shameless. From UM to FHM.

I realize now.

A Prom is like the PGA Tour.

Anything can happen.