The Res Gestae

Bulldozing the Hallowed Halls

2010-03-08T16:52:32Z

Faculty member to prospective student: Just ignore all the construction noise in the back -- it'll all be finished by the time you come. Well, by the time you graduate.

Testimony from the Trial of J. Alfred Prufrock

2010-02-24T18:00:20Z

[Testimony of Ms. M.]

Q. Please state your name for the court.
A. Ms. M.
Q. And what is it you do, Ms. M.?
A. Broadway actress. For the past year I've been doing "The Little Mermaid."

]]> Q. Ah. What role?
A. Ariel.
Q. I see. Now, can you describe how you met Mr. P.?
A. Well, I first saw him at a cast party. It was a few weeks after the show opened, and some of the bigger sponsors had gotten invitations to come and meet us.
Q. And he came? A. Yes, he did...
Q. Did anything about him strike you as out of the ordinary?
A. He...really wasn't much to look at. Kind of old? Reminded me of my dad. Dad used to do Hamlet--he'd be one of those guys in the court scenes, sitting on the edge. There he'd be, no lines, looking kind of noble--not noble like Hamlet, but noble enough.
Q. And Mr. P. was like that?
A. Yes, he gave the same impression. I think he was wearing corduroys, rolled up at the bottom. And his hair was parted strangely.
Q. Strangely? A. In the back...
Q. Did you speak to him?
A. We said hello. He told me he was interested in Renaissance artists. Kind of a weird thing to bring up.
Q. Had you been discussing art that night?
A. No. We were mostly talking about a new show one of my cast mates was doing. Townsend. He was starring in an off-Broadway Ninja Turtles revival.
Q. So, continuing your discussion with Mr. P., did he say anything else that night?
A. Oh, I can barely remember. He muttered a lot. Something about eating a peach?
Q. And when was the next time you saw Mr. P.?
A. That was...oh God...I can hardly...

[Testimony of Mr. P.]

Q. Mr. P., You met Ms. M. at a cast party, correct?
A. Knew her already. Knew them all.
Q. By "knew" you mean you saw her in "The Little Mermaid"?
A. Indeed.
Q. But you first spoke with her at a cast party.
A. How should I presume?
Q. But you did, Mr. P. You did presume, didn't you?
A. Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets and watched the smoke that rises from the pipes of lonely men?
Q. I'm sure you've smoked plenty of men's pipes, Mr. P., but right now we're talking about your appetite for peaches. What did you say to Ms. M. when you met her?
A. How should I begin?
Q. At the beginning, Mr. P.
A. Do I dare to eat a peach? Q. Just so, Mr. P. By that you meant to sexually proposition Ms. M., correct? A. That is not what I meant at all!
Q. Then what did you mean, Mr. P.?
A. It's impossible to say!
Q. I see. We'll leave it at that. Now, isn't it true you followed Ms. M. home later that week?
A. An overwhelming question...
Q. Well?
A. I lingered upon the pools that stand in drains, let fall upon my back the soot that falls from chimneys--
Q. Outside Ms. M.'s flat?
A. --slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap--
Q. Mr. P., why did you go to Ms. M.'s flat?
A. --and rubbed my muzzle on her window pane...
Q. Mr. P.! So you admit you were there. And she saw you, didn't she?
A. I was afraid!
Q. What did you say?
A. [bellowing] Let us go then, you and I, when the evening is spread out against the sky like a patient etherised upon a table!
Q. And you meant her to be the patient, right?
A. No!
Q. Then what did you mean?
A. Just some talk of you and me.
Q. Of course. Will you tell us why you went there, Mr. P.?
A. I...have heard the mermaids singing, each to each...
Q. And?
A. I did not think that they would sing for me.

Toss Me a Brewski, Bro!

2010-02-24T18:00:19Z

You've seen 'em in every bar. They hog the stools at Bar Louie, they descended upon your favorite watering hole in Cambridge or Chicago, and they love playing cornhole.

]]> Either in earnest or ironically--doesn't matter. They're douchebags and hipsters, and they're thirsty. Hipsters and douchebags come in many varieties, and so do their beers. Inclusion in this list isn't so much a dig on the quality of the tipple, but rather the character of its drinker. So take a good look in the mirror, folks--some of these might sound familiar.

Hipster Classic
Pabst Blue Ribbon suffers from a bit of First Amendment affliction--because it chooses to associate with hipsters, it faces discrimination. And that's almost a shame, because while it's a very pale lager with timid flavor profile, it's better than other American macrolagers. The red, white, and blue calls out to the patriot in me; the blue ribbon appeals to the gunner I might have once aspired to be. Then again, with a flavor as insultingly rail-thin and one-dimensional as the hipsters who drink it constantly, PBR is really weak. Among the watered down flavors, you can really taste the disaffection! I personally like to channel the DIY spirit of the hipster and mix these into something called a PBRoyale--equal parts Pabst and André Brut. Classy. Side note: reports Prof. Logue: "the beer of choice among law professors who sing Karaoke at the Circus Bar: PBR in a can for 50 cents."

The Alterna-Hipster
For those who have moved out of The Mission because it got too mainstream-y, who eschew the fixed-gear bike as lame, whose goal in life is to wear the biggest earlobe plugs ever, Miller High Life is on its way to becoming the new Pabst. It's crisp, slightly grassy, and artificially bubbly. It's also heavy on the grain flavor. Is it the "champagne of beers"? No. Says one fellow taster, "Miller High Life was my first beer. It was also my last one for a while."

The Alterna-Alterna-Hipster
So it's come to drinking Colt 45. I'm so alternative I don't have to drink beer. I like to drink thin watery beer-like substances that taste of grain, corn, dextrose, and irony. If PBR is the hipster way of saying, "I'm no longer confined by what corporate America dictates my tastes should be," then Colt 45 is hipster for "I'm no longer concerned with taste at all."

The I-Banker
Stella Artois pours the color of apple, with a sweet honey taste and a clean bitterness on the back of the tongue. It's light and fizzy in the mouth, with an aftertaste of stale bread and grass that starts out crisp and drinkable when it's ice cold, but as it warms, the beer gets underwhelming, and a cloying sweetness takes over quickly. Stella Artois rides the coattails of the great Belgian brewing tradition while effectively ignoring such tradition in its entirety. It's for people who want to be seen drinking something overpriced and Belgian but who would prefer not to have to drink beer. You'd do better melting a box of Godiva truffles into a mug and making a hot cocoa. Double-douche score: buy it in bottles for that super-classy foil wrapping. Triple-douche score: pronounce "Artois" with a sneer.

The Ivy-Leaguer
Heineken is the beer my college buddy used to drink to make himself feel special. Now, I think it made him look like a prestige whore. OK, I went to Princeton--we were all prestige whores. Heineken is pretty thin, with pronounced sugar sweetness instead of malt--possibly even coming from corn syrup. I'll admit it got pleasantly bitter at the tail end (much like a law student), but with an overwhelming taste of honey and an aftertaste of sour apple juice (not much like a law student). The carbonation was particularly unsubtle, and the beer left me with the taste of grass, light hops, and faux classiness.

"Fruit In My Beer is So Hip!"
I feel like Charlton Heston at the end of Soylent Green: Blue Moon is Coors! Tell everyone! But here's the thing: it's not half bad. It's creamy and rich, with hints of citrus and grassiness. So it's a really great facsimile of an actual beer, and that would be fine if it were marketed as such. Instead, Blue Moon has stoked sales by downplaying its megacorporate parent and pushing the slice of orange in the glass in order to pique consumer interest with "whenever there's an orange, there ought to be a stack of blue moon." So instead of being proud of an American megabrewery for creating something tasty, we intentionally and erroneously think of Blue Moon (along with Häagen-Dazs and Caesar Salad) as European.

The Semester-Abroad Student Comes Home
He's just back from a semester abroad, and he won't shut up about the Trappist ales he got so wrecked on back in the Old World. He looks on with a sneer when you order a single-fermentation beer, because he can handle the Tripel. He even insists on drinking Chimay in its own goblet. That's right, it's the I-know-Blue-Moon-isn't-from-Europe-and-that's-why-I-don't-drink-it beer snob. Despite being an exceptionally good beer, Chimay has three things going for it on the douche front: a.) it's Belgian, so it's got to be imported, b.) it's Trappist, which is Europe's version of "craft brewer," and c.) Chimay is easy enough to pronounce that any idiot from America can order it. All three export varieties are delicious--you should try them all. But don't be a douche about it.

Dude...
Good lord, there is a lot of corn in Milwaukee's Best Ice. It's the color of urine and has the aroma of stale bread. This, dear readers, is the aroma of undergrad life--the beer that both fratboys and bros can get behind. It's light and drinkable, but only because it goes down like water. It tastes like someone soaked a loaf of Wonder bread in a Brita filter. Not a lot of bitterness, or flavor of any kind. I had it with a side of Swedish Fish. Mmm...**

Joe wang welcomes your requests, as long as they are accompanied with a serious six-pack of brewskies. Reach him at rg@umich.edu.

Breaking News: There's More to MI than MLaw

2010-02-24T18:00:18Z

With break (1) coming up next week, I thought it would be a good idea to look into some day trips and weekend trips here in Michigan (2). Even if you already have plans for this break, sometimes what you really need to do to save yourself during the semester is get away for a day or two and remember all the things you loved to do before law school. Here are three options, varying in price, time, and distance, but all offering a lot of fun.

]]> Belle Isle

When the winter blahs kick in and you need a little greenery and entertainment in your life, head into Detroit to visit Belle Isle, approximately an hour's drive from Ann Arbor.

The Anna Scripps Whitcomb Conservatory, run by the Belle Isle Botanical Society, is free. It features plants from around the world and is split into a variety of sections -- tropical plants, the cactus exhibit, and palm trees, to name a few. A well-maintained path leads you through the greenery, and at the end of the path you'll find a fountain, a beautiful location for photography. The Conservatory is open every day from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m.

Once you're done with the plants, take a look at the Dossin Great Lakes Museum. A history maritime museum, it focuses on Detroit's role in national and regional maritime history and hosts one of the largest collections of model ships in the world. Though many of the exhibits change, some of the permanent ones are the Miss Pepsi, one of the fastest hydroplane racing boats, and the SS William Clay Ford pilot house, which allows visitors to captain a freighter.

If the weather's warm enough, check out the Belle Isle Nature Zoo, open most days 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. It offers nature programs to the general public, including a fallow deer encounter where visitors can see deer from the island, an insider's view of an actual beehive, and a close-up interaction with turtles.

Big Bay

For those who enjoy the snow and cold weather, head into the Upper Peninsula to Big Bay, approximately a nine hour drive from Ann Arbor or a short flight to the UP, and go to the Big Bay Point Lighthouse Bed and Breakfast. High on a cliff with great views of Lake Superior, the B&B provides an interesting place for visitors to stay while snowshoeing along the shore and skiing area trails. The B&B also offers spa services, including hot stone massages, full body therapeutic massages, and herbal body wraps.

While in Big Bay, check out the Lumberjack Tavern, the site of the murder that inspired the movie Anatomy of a Murder. The Tavern offers domestic and imported beer and a full menu for fresh meals.

Frankenmuth

Called Michigan's Little Bavaria, Frankenmuth, approximately an hour and a half drive from Ann Arbor, offers a number of adventures to visitors. In April, the fourth annual Bringin' Back the 80s festival benefits the American Cancer Society and lets visitors pay tribute to the music and trends of the 80s. The Bronner's Christmas Wonderland, the world's largest Christmas store, provides more than 50,000 Christmas decorations, gifts, and collectibles year round. The Michigan's Own Military & Space Museum features displays about the Michigan Veterans of six foreign wars and the space program.

For those who want to try local specialties, the St. Julian Wine Co, Michigan's oldest wine company, offers daily video tours and tasting. St. Julian's produces wine, champagne, spumante, brandies, and vodka. For food, some local favorites include Sullivan's Black Forest Brew Haus & Grill, which features a dozen hand-crafted beers and a full-service restaurant that includes fish and chips, deep dish pizza, and a variety of burgers and sandwiches -- check out the brewery tour if you have time, and the Bavarian Inn Restaurant, with family-style dinners of chicken, breads, fresh fruit preserves, soups, salads, and homemade ice cream as well as authentic German dishes. The Frankenmuth Cheese Haus specializes in chocolates, cheeses, and cheese spreads and provides visitors with specialty foods, gifts, and a coffee bar.

Whatever your pleasure or reason for getting away, do take the time to explore Michigan while you're here and, as always, remember the importance of saving yourself.

(1) A break in February in Michigan is nothing like a spring break.
(2) I grew up taking summer road trips back and forth across the country and therefore consider eight to ten hour drives as regular, easy trips, so your definition of a day trip or weekend trip may vary.

Carla's got plenty of ideas for bar trips, too. Get the full scoop by emailing her at rg@umich.edu.

Tread Lightly: Twenty Miles, One Treadmill, and Lots and Lots of Boredom.

2010-02-24T18:00:17Z

The fall is generally considered marathon season in the United States. Over fifty occur in October alone, including one of the biggest (Chicago), one only for women (San Francisco) (1), and even one right here in Michigan (Detroit). At least twenty more and, most notably, the one with the most participants and spectators (New York), take place in November.

]]> This makes training if not pleasant at least doable. You rarely have to worry about the weather (particularly snow) interfering with your longest runs. You may have to wait for Friday's rain to become Saturday's sun or wake up early on Thursday to circumvent a weekend storm. But for the most part you can, with a little patience and planning, count on completing the double-digit mile runs at the core of any marathon regiment outside, with plenty to look at, and a nice non-digital distance to look back on. It is kind of cool to fulfill your 13-mile day by running from Ann Arbor to Dexter, even if it is less cool, of course, trying to figure out how to get back.

Spring marathons are less accommodating. To complete a standard 16-week training schedule in time for Cincinnati's famous Flying Pig Marathon in May, you have to start in January. For the Boston in April, Day 1 of 112 begins in December. This explains the treadmill. I had qualified for Boston last fall. But unless I was going to develop an affinity (not to mention talent) for snow shoes as I worked my way through the pre-race training, I was, at some point, going to have to make friends with the belt, buttons, and beeps of a Precor USA or Horizon T20, or one of the many other trail substitutes that help Northerners avoid runners' hibernation each winter. I would not be able to wait for Friday's snow to become Saturday's sun. More likely it would just become Saturday's even more snow, followed by Sunday's "Yup, still snowing" and Monday's "You know there are universities in Arizona, right?" snow.

So I packed up some supplies, channeled my inner hamster and headed off to the CCRB to run, essentially in place, for 3 hours. Remembering from Huck Finn and, more recently, Lost, that intense situations create some of the strongest friendships, I had decided to start this new relationship not a with a simple "3-mile pace" or even a "45-min Tempo" run. Nope, I would go for the max: 20 Miles. A distance that would lead to the appearance of seven different people on the treadmill next to me. A distance that would require I change my shirt three times. A distance that would give me the time to read, or try to read, the entire Sunday New York Times. And a distance, also, that would teach me some things.

First, it is really hard, as a physical matter, to read while running. My sightline kept bouncing to a different byline. Worse, I discovered that my newspaper folding technique, clumsy when I am stationary, caused paper-cuts when I was moving. I had included a couple bottles of water among my supplies. I hadn't included any band-aids. This was an oversight. I expected to give my treadmill a lot of toil, even more sweat, and possibly a few tears. Now, completing the Churchillian sacrifice, I would give it some of my blood too.

Second, it is even harder, as a psychological matter, to read about food while running. My treadmill would eventually tell me that I burned 2431 calories. By calorie 907 I was ready to eat the meal reviewed that day by Times food critic Sam Sifton. By calorie 1543 I was ready to eat the review itself. "All the news that is fit to print" quickly became "all the news that is fit to scarf down."

Third, many treadmills, including the one I was on, reset after sixty minutes. This creates two conflicts. The first is with your conscience. Signs indicating that workouts should be limited to thirty minutes when people are waiting create what might be called soft pressure not to turn your workout into the running scene from Forrest Gump. This gets elevated to hard pressure, even "Dude, get off!" pressure, when the machine actually shuts off on you mid-stride.

The second conflict is with your vanity. My treadmill reset three times during my run, always erasing the previous hour's mileage when it did. What people saw on my face as I neared my end goal was anguish, exhaustion, and the kind of ravenousness that says, "Yes, two minutes longer and I will start eating newsprint." What they saw on my screen was: "Mile 1.3."

Of course the most important thing I learned was that, after surviving Treadmill Tedium, even Heartbreak Hill seems manageable. I think I am ready for Boston. I may even bring the Times.

(1) Despite its title--Nike Women's Marathon--this race is actually open to men. And it would be a shame if it weren't. Race weekend amenities include massages, yoga classes, Ghiradelli chocolate, and even a Tiffany necklace handed to you after you cross the finish line.

Patrick attends Michigan for all his non-law needs. Ask him about the vagaries of the U. of Chicago academic calendar at rg@umich.edu.

A2's 2Zs: Zingerman's and Dean Z, Lords of Perk

2010-02-24T18:00:17Z

There's a concept called "Midwestern nice" which generally refers to an almost pathological obsession with polite behavior and surface courtesy that some Midwesterners exhibit. One of us actually grew up in the Midwest and thinks that Midwestern nice isn't an act--people here really are like that--but some people take it to extremes, creating a personality that borders on insincerity.

]]> In the law school Midwestern nice isn't as evident, although you could make a case that our own beloved Dean Zearfoss is the UMLS equivalent. She's got an endless supply of perkiness and seems to really want you to come here. It's not just in real life, either--reading her blog (http://www.law.umich.edu/connection/a2z/default.aspx), you get the same sense of Dean Z's rapid-fire style. She's UMLS's Liz Lemon.
Dean Z doesn't have the insincere touch that Midwestern nice sometimes creates; either she's amazingly good at pretending to be energetically interested all the time, or she actually is that way. A2's other Z icon, however, seems to have crossed the line from Midwestern nice to Midwestern cult. We're talking about Zingerman's, of course--the emporium/empire that has cornered the market on upscale food and food products and has done so since before half our student body was born.
There's no point in rehashing the most common complaints about Zingerman's: the exorbitant prices that prevent any student without a parent or legal guardian present from actually eating a full meal, the slightly overrated food (would you like more grease with that?), and the insane crowds that descend during freshman orientation, graduation, and pretty much every weekend. Yes, it's A2's version of New York's Magnolia Bakery--a tourist trap that, for the locals, has jumped the shark a while back.
This isn't to say that there is nothing good about Zingerman's. If you chance on the right order you can have an amazing meal--some of their homemade products like the cheeses and gelatos are great, and they stock a lot of products that you can't get anywhere else in the county (and maybe the state). But the fame has transformed a quirky deli into a weirdly cult-like behemoth. The garish branding and advertising that's omnipresent in the stores and on the packaging is both a graphic design nightmare and an off-putting, overly corporatized sense of whimsy. When you start developing a trademark, it's hard to keep up the act of "we're just a fun little store that serves great food."
The Zingerman's staff manages to take the Midwestern nice to a new level, too. They're helpful to the point of maybe not being believable--or at least seeming a little exhausting. It's all in keeping with the vibe of the place, but it's not really clear why "juggernaut deli" needs to be humanized into a cultish cheeriness. The energy would probably be better directed into ensuring consistency in the food rather than creating an environment that, between the crowds and the excessive smiles, makes you want to eat your sandwich in the less hyped-up confines of your home. Maybe Zingerman's can take a tip from Dean Z and underplay the energy level a bit. Just like with food, sometimes less is more.
Of course, if you give them $15, the Culinary Club Board won't say no to a Zingerman's sandwich. Email your credit card number to rg@umich.edu.

Zach's Law Dictionary

2010-02-24T18:00:15Z

1Ls - They come into the year filled with amazing experiences from all over the world and from all walks of life, and leave it careerist, GPA-grubbing pedants. Roughly 50% are lost to vampirism during the first round of exams, with an additional 20% becoming zombies due to lack of makeup and/or humanity. Insecurities abound in this newly born class, usually compensated for by obsessing about grades, pretending not to obsess about grades but actually tattooing E&E's on your arms, and founding secret societies to feel better about yourself.

]]> 2Ls - Having been in the school for an entire 9 months, they are omniscient about all things law school. Most spent 1L year as ugly caterpillars in chrysalides, but once the new class sets foot on campus, the 2Ls emerge as beautiful social butterflies, all inexplicably in the top 10% of their class and filled with ancient Zen wisdom. Be sure to take all of their completely conflicting advice about how to study, which professors are good, and which incredibly expensive supplements you can buy from them that you'll never use. Additionally, you must accept every crappy outline they chuck at you as canon law, and NEVER share it with other people, because God knows what would happen then.

3Ls - They've done their time. Two years of such grueling tasks as "reading," "writing papers," and "trivia nights" represent the most difficult challenges ever faced; now they feel comfortable just picking yesterday's meal out of their beards and waiting for their degree. And they only have to pay $45,000 a year not to go to class.

LSSS - More often referred to as the LSPPC (Law School Party Planning Committee), this bastion of informed governance has given a vigorous voice to progressive change on campus through brave, groundbreaking actions such as "Bar Crawls" and "Beard Contests" (sometimes, fair reader, the truth is the best satire). Once debated for two days straight on whether or not to pass a resolution expressing support of the existence of LSSS.

Orientation Week - This is the exciting time as a 1L where you make many new friends, and then promptly never talk to them again after you find your "real" friends. ABCD - Apparently, these people exist.

EFGH - Once referred to as "Every F-ing Gunner Here," this moniker is now completely unfair. Instead, the number of gunners in this section has swelled beyond classroom capacity, and now EFGH outsources some of its gunners to the other sections.

IJKL - An abomination in God's eyes. Let them be anathema. Two boils for each and every student's putrid gall bladder.

MNOP - If you like having an unhealthy obsession with your Legal Practice professor and never talking with anyone outside of your section, this is the place for you.

Reading Room - A place where the love of the law, and the noise of all bodily functions, echoes on for centuries. Voted "Best Place to Pick Up a Lawyer Husband" by the sisters of Delta Delta Delta.

Subs - Has anyone wondered what would happen if you just took twenty huge reporters through the detectors and booked it out of there? Does the sign saying "Please return to the distribution desk on S-2" have magical powers? Would the vacuous undergrad tackle you? Would the octogenarian professional grouches taze you? Also voted "Best Place to Have a Guy Masturbate In Front of You" by the sisters of Delta Delta Delta.

Outlines - A widely-held belief in the law school is that the length of your outline corresponds to the length of your...exam answer. Outline creators have such high opinions of themselves that they believe a bullet-pointed, flow-charted god-awful horror show presented to a slack-jawed 1L is equivalent to the cracking of the ULTRA code in World War II. One such outline creator swore the reporter to secrecy, and I sent it to no one; on the day of the exam, most of the class had the same one.

Student groups - With the recent creation of RBLSA--Resume Boosting Law Students Association--the cover has pretty much been blown on these. Generally, they elect people to bizarre sinecures like "1L Bestiality Rep" and "Grand Moff Tarkin," and then never meet again. Occasionally they'll have a meeting in which the aforementioned 2Ls dispense job advice (read: interpretive dance moves about working in some place you'll never want to work) and chuck some Jimmy John's into the crowd.

Dean Caminker - He works here doing something. I'll investigate further, but current rumor has it he spends his days stroking a removable Fu Manchu while reading sheep entrails and plotting his next move against his nemesis, Dean Robert "Funktastic" Post, of Yale Law. However, if you're a student with an issue or complaint, he's away indefinitely, and you should go talk to one of the Banes of Students, Baum or Gregory.

Deans Baum and Gregory - Important roles include casting the tiebreaking vote when Dean Caminker disagrees with himself and flinging over body grenades intended for him.

Law school construction - With the recent hiring of Yertle the Turtle as construction manager, the project is moving forward in leaps and bounds and should be completed in time for the bicentennial celebration. Apparently the time is being cut in half through such revolutionary ideas as "work" and "doing construction directly in students' ear canals during class."

*Attractive single people at Michigan Law *- Your search for "attractive single people at Michigan Law" did not match any results. Did you mean "plain, desperate people"?

Zach at least has the decency to go to a carrel when he quietly and discreetly touches himself inappropriately in the subs. He can be reached at rg@umich.edu.

Grade Curves. We Got 'em. You Want 'em.

2010-02-24T18:00:14Z

Yes. Grade curves. What can we say.

]]> Fall 2009 Grade Curves.pdf

Quit Looking At My Butt: Onstage at Mr. Wolverine

2010-02-03T18:00:20Z

OVERHEARD in a drafty dressing room below the stage at Mendelssohn Hall, January 29, 2009, some time between 8:00 and 9:00 P.M.:

"Is this too much lipstick?"
"Yes. Totally. It looks ridiculous."
"Perfect."

]]> Even more surprising than the conversation was the conversationalist; the lipstick-applier was Ben McJunkin, a towering baby-faced Paul Bunyan of a 3L who was one of the Mr. Wolverine contestants last year. He was dressed up as what I consider the most hilarious male rendition of Molly Ringwald I have ever seen. Three Molly Ringwalds stapled together would have probably taken up less space in the dressing room than Ben did in his gorgeous flowing pink strappy summer dress that night. We were getting ready for our respective class skits, while Mr. Wolverine 2009 was going on, full-throttle, above our heads.

This year, the Mr. Wolverine competition has completed its sixth official year of existence, and I'm proud to be able to claim that I was one of the contestants in last year's event. It was the silliest, busiest, most stressful, and most rewarding thing I did that year, and perhaps in all of my time here at Michigan Law. A lot of us attend the annual law school boy pageant, but I'm not sure many people know how much love and labor goes into pulling off a shenanigan like Mr. Wolverine while simultaneously trying to keep up in class and doing all the other half-million things law students are obligated to do (like, for example, still looking for a motherloving job, for chrissake). So I thought I would take this time to describe that experience (ordeal?) from the point of view of one of the participants, and get a few other opinions along the way.

For those of you who don't know why the Mr. Wolverine competition exists (and I didn't for three semesters), I'll digress for a moment and paint the background scenery. Mr. Wolverine is an annual fundraiser organized by the Latino Law Students Association (LLSA) with the goal of raising money for LLSA's "Project Comunidad" program. What's that? Embarrassingly, until I wrote this article, I had no idea. My crude answer was, "Um, it's like a program that helps Hispanic people. Like in the community or something." Although that is technically correct, you might have guessed that it leaves a whole lot to be desired, definitionally speaking. Sort of like: "What? Palsgraf? Um, it's like, about torts and stuff."

Lara Bueso, 3L and LLSA co-chair, gave me a much more competent description of the program: "Project Comunidad is a fellowship given to 1Ls who commit to public service for the summer. Specifically, we encourage LLSA members to give back to underrepresented communities. SFF funding is very limited, so this fellowship helps some of our own LLSA members receive a stipend for the summer. The fellowship is in its sixth year and was founded by the same student who created Mr. Wolverine six years ago. The amounts vary each year depending on how much we raise through Mr. Wolverine and other fundraising programs such as bake sales, t-shirt sales, and more. The biggest fundraiser for the scholarship, though, is the Mr. Wolverine pageant."

Recipients of the Project Comunidad fellowship are chosen by a joint committee of Law School alumni and administrators, and the winners have used their fellowships to work in such organizations as the Michigan Migrant Legal Assistant Project, Public Counsel of Los Angeles (the largest pro bono law firm in the world), and the Special Litigation Unit of New York Legal Assistance Group (NYLAG). Hearing all the good that Mr. Wolverine helped make happen, I feel less ambivalent about having danced in my underwear to the tune of "Footloose" in front of hundreds of my closest peers and future professional colleagues.

(Not true; I seek out semi-nude dancing in front of crowds of spectators whenever I can. Me and the Times Square Naked Cowboy used to fight. Who's that? http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Naked_Cowboy.)

Enough digressing; back to the titular event. This past Thursday, January 28th, I enjoyed the novel experience of actually being in the audience during Mr. Wolverine, instead of sweating bullets onstage. (No, concerned readers, I didn't go 1L year. I was too busy rocking back and forth in a hard wooden chair in the Reading Room and muttering something about "all work and no play.") And it was an excellent show: my face hurt from three hours of laughing. I can attest to the amount of work it must have taken; preparing for the show literally consumed my life for the entire month of January last year.

The format of the show was the same as last year's: an opening dance number by the 17 alluring Mr. Wolverine hopefuls (18 last year), followed by introductions of contestants and judges, the professor impersonations, the 1L skit, the 2L skit, intermission, dance routine #2, the 3L skit, the announcement of the finalists, and, finally, the crowning of Mr. Wolverine himself.

Most notable in this year's show was the unexpected, unprecedented crowning of a 1L Mr. Wolverine, the now forever-famous Andy Trafford. For the entirety of the competition's storied six-year history, 3Ls have exclusively won the coveted crown. (Is it just me, or does that crown look like a Pope hat?). In fact, I remember being told last year by another contestant, "Forget about winning, the judges only pick 3Ls." Apparently, the judges decided to send a clear signal to the universe that this is not true. When the lights came back on at the end of the show, I did a quick scan of the people sitting around me to gauge the response. It was apparent that the 3Ls were bereft.

"Unbelievable. This is terrible. I'm speechless." (3L behind me, looking pale.)

"It's a disaster that a 1L won - what a terrible decision . . . it's an embarrassing outcome." (Dan Horwitz, 3L, Mr. W contestant 2009.)

My response to the overturning of years of precedent was a bit less fatalistic; I thought it would be good motivation for future competitions. Other students had similar thoughts:

"Having a 1L win is terrible, but I don't consider it a 1L winning - I consider it a 3L winning two years early." (Nic Markman, 2L, Mr. W contestant 2009.)

"I think the fact that the judges picked Andy was great[.] Additionally, it doesn't take a Richard Posner to figure out that the whole competition will be better now that all the candidates think that they have a chance of winning." (Will Ellerbe, 1L summer starter, Mr. W contestant 2010.)

Will does have a point; there was something futile in being a non-3L Mr. Wolverine contender last year. Perhaps with this year's upset, we'll have even more vigorous competition in future years.

But how is that even possible? I mentioned it earlier, and I'll return to the topic again now: Mr. Wolverine is a veritable shit-ton of work. For a full month preceding the competition, the Mr. Wolverine contestants meet three or four times per week (more in the final week before the show) for several hours at a time, just to rehearse the dance routines. That doesn't even factor in the work they each put into class skits, the professor impersonations, and the firmwear walk-off. In my experience, classes and other law school obligations had to take a back seat for those several weeks while we all made treks to Office Max for posterboard and tempera paint, to the Salvation Army for skit and professor props, and to Espresso Royale for massive, stomach-grinding cups of coffee to keep us from passing out. Raising the stakes might mean eliminating class - or sleep - entirely.

What would compel anybody to take on an additional 20 hours of work per week when law students can barely keep up with the work we already have on our plates? I can't really say, but I think it's a mixture of peer pressure, glory, vanity, and sheer momentum. It's not like we win any money (that would be awesome, though), and it's not like we can put this on our resumes. (Interviewer with eyes askance: "So, err, tell me about this 'Mr. Wolverine' thing . . .") Frankly, I think we all try hard because every one of us (and I'm not just speaking about the Mr. Wolverine contestants) are wired to work hard when we're presented with a task. That's how we got to law school after all. And there's the ever-present horror of humiliating yourself in front of hundreds of people, too. Let's not forget that motivator. What works in the classroom works on stage as well.

My biggest surprise at being a part of the show was the unexpected camaraderie that developed between us, a group of 17 or 18 (mostly) strangers. When I showed up for the first rehearsal last year, I didn't know any of the other Mr. Wolverine guys. By the end of the month, however, we had made surprisingly fast friendships. Here I think the massive workload of the show sort of mimicked what happens to all of us during our 1L years; shared misery makes us all kindred spirits, and you don't find that kind of friendship every day. Here, I defer to the words of Dan Horwitz, who I think most accurately describes the Mr. Wolverine experience: "[The] workload was intense, and muscles were sore, but overall participating last year was a good time, and let me get to know some folks I otherwise likely wouldn't have made friends with. We share a bond of shaking our asses in tighty whities that most other law students can only dream about."

If you would like to contact Tomek, look for the guy wearing the slightly-tattered red satin sash with the gold letters "TOMEK" written across the front. Alternatively, send him an email, at rg@umich.edu.

Dark Beers For Dark Days

2010-02-03T18:00:17Z

Yep, it's definitely January. We're knee-deep in Seasonal Affective Disorder, and the prevailing color all around us is gray - gray skies, gray buildings, gray food, gray people, and, if you're in Crim Law, lots and lots of gray areas. And let's not pretend that it's not cold out. So here's a list of beers that might keep you warm in these cold, dark times.

]]> Young's Double Chocolate Stout
This British tipple is an outstanding example of a sweet stout. Dark and well-roasted with hints of malt sweetness and a deep, velvety creaminess, this is a great beer on a cold day. There's some chocolate flavor, but it's overtaken by a lot of sweet vanilla, raisin, and a curious smoothness (think Guinness, but with a lot more depth). If it weren't so cold outside, this might go well with a scoop of vanilla ice cream floated in it.

New Holland Dragon's Milk
I'm not convinced that New Holland didn't add Bailey's Irish Cream to this beer, since all I tasted here was vanilla, raisin, and caramel. It certainly wasn't unpleasant, but it got really syrupy and cloying toward the end of the beer. It had all of the traditional silky smooth drinkability of a good, deep stout, but with the alcohol content of something a little less friendly. New Holland also makes "The Poet," a deep black oatmeal stout that attempts to channel Poe's Raven. Tastes wet and vegetal, like rosemary and lemon. Skip it.

Founder's Dirty Bastard Ale
If sweet isn't really your thing, go for a nice Dirty Bastard. It's brewed in a Scottish bitter tradition that's supposed to invoke the cold Scottish highlands and the rough complexity of Scottish cuisine. This would be a lovely accompaniment to haggis, either the regular or the vegetarian version (I swear that such a beast exists!), perhaps either to complement it or, if you drink enough Dirty Bastard, make you forget it. There's a strange chewiness to this - it's thick and syrupy, with a subtle malt sweetness and a deep burnt caramel character. At 8.2% ABV, handle with care.

Meantime London Stout
This beer has a great dark smoothness, with a malty sweet center and an oddly salty finish. It's earthy (some flavor of mushroom), with the taste of coffee and vanilla right in the middle of the sip. It feels warmer than it should, probably because of the aggressive carbonation, since a 4.5% ABV shouldn't do that on its own. It's a delicious, if filling, beer; though further down the pint, it started to feel thinner than at the beginning.

And the winner...
Founder's Breakfast Stout
Sadly, this beer does not taste like bacon, the true breakfast of champions. It does, however, exhibit wonderful morning coffee aromas and lovely mocha flavors that teeter precariously between malt sweetness and a touch of balsamic vinegar sourness. It's made with oats (like a good breakfast), sits a little heavy in the stomach (like a good breakfast), and it's 8.3% ABV (also like a good breakfast). Delicious, thick, and creamy. This is honestly my favorite beer from this brewery, and a glass of this would be a fantastic way to start a day. Be careful about that 8 A.M. class though.

Bonus beer:
Ale to the Chief - Avery Brewing Company
I tried this one on the anniversary of the Obama Inauguration. But I bought it at Busch's where it was 20% off. Sometimes the political jokes kind of write themselves. Here's the deal - this smells really wonderful, with great hops and malt notes on the nose. It looks gorgeous, with a thick creamy head and a cloudy amber tint. Promising, promising indeed. But sip it, and it smacks you in the face with an unbalanced alcohol flavor that obliterates everything else. Where did that great hop aroma go? The sweetness is still there--thank goodness--but against the booze it tastes almost cloying. What the aroma had promised, the flavor couldn't deliver. Just when I was thinking IPAs were back...

The Beer Guy: Prof Pick Edition

2010-02-03T18:00:16Z

The Beer Guy is proud to continue Prof. Pick - an occasional series in which a member of our esteemed faculty is invited to reflect on a beer of his or her choosing. John Pottow is a fixture around Michigan Law, known both for his lightning quick wit and his willingness to tell it like it is. Both are apparent here.

]]> Sprecher's Pub Ale (Wisconsin):

I had occasion to try this recently at Zingerman's Roadhouse and found it maintaining the strong tradition of overpricing. Still, I decided I had to get off my hop horse and dismount my go-to Sacred Cow. A blended draught--boasting no fewer than seven hops--it poured flat with a medium brown color. That initial taste was overwhelmingly buttery (so much so, I'm not kidding, I thought I had mistakenly put extra butter on my bread). Perturbed, I ate some dry bread and re-tasted. Butterfest! The butter flavor was strong and then petered out into a languid finish. This immediately made me want to blame someone (the Swedes have been getting off easy as of late), but I resisted and let the beer warm as I enjoyed my meal. And this brought the (plausibly) redeeming virtue--it paired well with the saltiness of chips and even brought out some of the richness of my grilled char. So it grew on me, but I don't think I could in good conscience recommend it as a standalone beer, which is ironic given its pretensions to be a "pub ale." Still, better than a slap in the face with a wet haddock, as they say.

Bombs Over Baggage Claim

2010-02-03T18:00:15Z

This week we're taking a break from my usual dose of earnest law school-related babbling and moving on, temporarily, to some earnest national security-related babbling.

Like most students I went home for Christmas break. And on Christmas morning I was sitting on my couch, in front of my TV, unwrapping the Roomba I won't be able to use until I move out of AA and into a dwelling that more closely resembles something an actual adult would live in. You know, the kind of place that's amenable to being cleaned by a robot vacuum. I was just about to show my Mom a video of a cat riding a Roomba when the newsman started telling me that a well-educated Nigerian guy tried to hide some rather sophisticated but temperamental explosives underneath his testicles.

]]> And like a lot of people I went out later that night with a bunch of my buddies to a local bar with no sign, cheap drinks, and lots of TVs. Eventually the conversation turned away from the fact that our Christmas haul seems to be asymptotically heading towards a stocking full of Brazil nuts & wool socks. One of my friends had seen some mention of the attempted terrorist attack scroll along the bottom of the TV, and after uttering a bunch of expletives he managed to squeak out an indignant sentence or two about how let's just get us a bunch of those damn full body scanners and plant them down in every major airport in the country and let's get those TSA fuckers to pull on some rubber gloves and start flippin' up some balls! I was going to check to make sure alien bodysnatchers hadn't kidnapped my friend and replaced him with Cletus the Slack-Jawed Yokel before I realized that it's not only the rah-rah America crowd that feels this way.

This kind of thinking also represents the consistent policy of band-aid security that the government employs every time the terrorists come up with a new way to sneak explosives onto airplanes. And while the measures that are passed in the wake of these attacks don't represent the entirety of our security efforts, the resources that are devoted to preparing for tactics that have already been used would be much better spent on gathering & sharing real intelligence, the kind of intelligence that will stop more than just the next guy who thinks it's a good idea to strap a bomb on or around an erogenous zone.

This isn't to say that our emotional reactions to these attacks aren't entirely valid. But we need to get better at separating out our immediate, visceral reactions to what amounts to a shocking but still rare event and base our security reaction on actual data. History shows that terrorists are really good at finding new and interesting ways to blow things up. Hell, I'm constantly surprised that a terrorist hasn't targeted the already miserable security line itself or planted a bomb in some other large and mythically American institution like the mall or the Porn & Karate Supplies store on I-80. But at the rate that air travel is trending towards something out of Demolition Man [thanks, Mike!] ~~Judge Dredd~~ (minus the omnipresent Taco Bell), if terrorists were to change their targets completely it would become patently obvious that our standard response is completely inadequate.

We have a cognitive bias that makes us fixate on the horrific event, no matter how rare, and we not only overestimate the risk of future events but frequently insist on preparing for something just like them. This is especially true when the events in question involve activities like flying that are not only outside of our control but are already really terrifying to a substantial portion of the population.

The American psyche has been bombarded with the images of terrorism, and our anxiety about bombs on planes is already at Kierkegaardian (!) levels. So the public is primed to not only abide but demand a bunch of showy stop-gap measures in the wake of every attempt, whether successful or not. And one of the unfortunate side effects of placing all this power in the hands of the Department of Homeland Security is that officials have the peculiar incentive to stoke fears of terrorism in the interest of appearing to do something. But actually, one of the under-mentioned aspects of the Christmas Day attack is that the "antiquated" pre-9/11 security measures actually succeeded in forcing the bomber to make kind of a crappy bomb.

The solution is not to merely "do something" in the interest of appeasing people like Maureen Dowd, who wants Obama to pat our collective head and tell us it's going to be OK, but to direct the majority of our efforts towards combating the general threat of terrorism and not trying to patch up tiny holes in our security infrastructure after the fact.

Dave is moderately concerned that writing this article has landed him on several watch lists. If you like to add him to yours, email him at rg@umich.edu.

When You Were Cooler: Sitting on the Dock of the Bay

2010-02-03T18:00:14Z

It's a big blue watery road. And after undergrad, rather than joining the cast of Deadliest Catch, Jess Bernfeld (2L), decided to research one of the more obscure aspects of commerce on the high seas: secondary registers.

]]> To understand what a secondary register is, it helps to know what a "register" is in the first place. You may remember from Transnat (hurrah for practical applications of law school) that boats are considered floating land, and since they have to belong to somebody, that is where registers come in. All countries keep a list of ships that are registered to fly under their flag. Simple enough. You pay some fees to the country, follow their rules, and your boat gets to be a citizen of that place. Some of those rules are pretty strict though. Jess informed me that "traditional maritime countries used to have protectionist policies on their national registers (for example, Denmark requiring Danish-flagged vessels to employ only Danish, or EU, seafarers." Apparently, seafarer wages are also tied to nationality, so regulations of that sort can be pretty expensive.

It gets interesting in that you never have to actually visit the place that you are registered to; you can even register a ship with Liberia or Panama online. Because you can often register with any country you want, the logical result is that many captains will pick the cheapest, most random country to register with. It also makes sense that many of the major shipping countries were less than thrilled when they started losing their ships, and the related revenues, to these "flags of convenience." At some point, they decided to set up secondary registers. According to Jess, these secondary registers existed alongside the national register, "but were often 'located' on an offshore territory like the Canary Islands or Madeira -- France even used its Antarctic territory, the Kerguelen Islands."

Prior to Jess's research, the commonly held assumption was that these secondary registers were something like "the shipping equivalent of a tax haven or export processing zone, essentially providing a way around domestic regulations and taxes without actually moving the ship to another country's flag." Nobody had bothered to look into that though, and as with most academic oversights, someone eventually gets to prove everybody else wrong.

After countless hours of reviewing documents and surveying seafarers, she "was able to suggest that, in the shipping context, offshore was not necessarily synonymous with deregulation, that the national [register] was still relevant, and that everyone in academia who had been talking about these things without doing empirical analyses had gotten it totally wrong." As a result, she got to take a break from the insanity that is life as a 1L and present her research at a conference in Denmark.

Jess used port-state control data, information about seafarer nationality, and legislative histories to conduct a qualitative case study evaluating the implications secondary registers had for state sovereignty and globalization. Not all of it was glamorous, but it did provide her with some interesting experiences: during the first year of her M.Phil, in England all of the fellows went to the Bristol port as part of a research project. "The other fellows were all men, aged 30-45, and Chinese, Indian, Egyptian, and Kenyan. But it was only [Jess] (a 22 year-old, Caucasian, American female) that they wouldn't let into the port. After way more questioning than she would have liked, they let her in. "It turns out that the U.S. has a tendency to send out inspectors -- sometimes undercover, apparently -- to ports around the world to make sure they are complying with security regulations, and the people working in Bristol were convinced that [she] was an American spy." If that wasn't cool enough for you, while on the Isle of Man, she ended up having quite a long conversation with Jeremy Clarkson (a prominent British journalist and the host of Top Gear, for all of you BBC fans)! It may not be partying with T-Pain and The Lonely Island boys, but it's decidedly better than working at Kinko's, straight flipping copies.

That being said, if you happen to know of someone who used to be cool, feel free to pass along an anonymous tip. I'd really love to hear from the 1L's. Any net I cast tends to bring in 2Ls and 3Ls, and it is always more fun to read about people you have class with.

Send comments and suggestions to rg@umich.edu.

Save Yourself: Frightfully Good Books To Warm You Up

2010-02-03T18:00:13Z

The weather outside is, well, better than some of the storms crossing the country. Still, the temperatures are cold; bone-aching cold; fingers-and-toes-numbing cold; the kind of cold which leaves me envious of those of you who at the end of a long day can curl up in front of a fireplace with a good book.

]]> I can't give you a fireplace, but I can recommend some fun, entertaining books that will take your mind off the stress of law school and the nasty weather outside.

Title: Down to the Bone
Author: Mayra Lazara Dole

Blurb: Here's what it means to be a tortillera. It means you're a girl who loves girls. Which means you get kicked out of Catholic school faster than Mother Superior Sicko can say "immoral." Which means your wacko Mami finds out. Which means you're kicked to the curb with nowhere to go and the love of your life is shipped off to Puerto Rico to marry a guy. But this is Miami, and if you have a big-hearted best friend and a loyal puppy at your side, and if your broken heart is still full of love, you just might land on your feet.

Mini-review: Excellent story in which Dole deftly handles Laura's queer and Latina experiences, the places where her identities merge and the places where they do not. It's refreshing to see so many diverse characters in queer literature. Dole writes Laura as such a funny, charming, loving character that readers are sympathetic even when she's lashing out at her friends or pretending to be something she's not. The friendships here are just as important as the romances and all the characters are layered and well-written.

Title: Amy's Answering Machine: Messages from Mom
Author: Amy Borkowsky

Blurb: Does your mother call you in a panic whenever there's a storm warning for your area? Does she act as though it's her duty to alert you to every health story on the news? Have you ever been briefly out of touch with your mother only to find she's phoned everyone short of the National Guard to track you down -- or, just maybe, are you that mother?

Take comfort in knowing you're not alone, as Amy Borkowsky shares more than a decade's worth of maddening phone messages from her hilariously overprotective mom. Based on the hit CD of the same name, Amy's Answering Machine features actual messages in which Amy's mom warns her not to wear a red bathrobe because a friend's grandson "said that red is a gang color;" advises her not to get a cat because "what if you finally found a nice guy and he was allergic?;" and cautions her not to wear crepe-soled shoes because "they were just saying on the news that if you're ever in a plane crash, crepe is no good if you have to go down the slide."

Mini-review: The messages from Amy's mother are frequently hilarious, but Amy's commentary between them reveals a warm family love that gently teases, not viciously mocks, the advice her mother leaves for her.

Title: Raptor Red
Author: Robert T. Bakker

Blurb: A pair of fierce but beautiful eyes look out from the undergrowth of conifers. She is an intelligent killer...

The time is 120 million years ago, the place is the plains of prehistoric Utah, and the eyes belong to an unforgettable heroine. Her name is Raptor Red, and she is a female raptor dinosaur. From a tragic loss to the fierce struggle for survival to a daring migration to the Pacific Ocean to escape a deadly new predator, Raptor Red combines fact and fiction to capture for the first time the thoughts, emotions, and behaviors of the most magnificent, enigmatic creatures ever to walk the face of the earth.

Mini-review: Velociraptors: scary, intelligent pack hunters who, if we're to believe Jurassic Park, could learn to open doors and maliciously smiled while hunting humans. (What, doesn't everyone take their dinosaur knowledge from movies?) Velociraptors: Also, loving family units in a world far different from ours. That Bakker can make readers sympathize and empathize with a creature that seems so different from humans is interesting enough on its own, but Raptor Red is an incredible narrator with a fantastic adventure story.

Title: Ivy Cole and the Moon
Author: Gina Farago

Blurb: "Sometimes there are folks in this world who deserve a good killin'..."

Ivy Cole has returned home to Doe Springs, North Carolina, a quiet community in the Blue Ridge Mountains, imbued with a special gift -- one that erupts howling on full-moon nights, and serves as judge, jury, and executioner for those who warrant a violent end.

Mini-review: Many werewolf stories include horrible treatment of women -- violent murders, kidnapping, rape, torture porn at its worst -- but this one has a number of terrific female characters. Some are victims, some are saviors; some make intelligent choices, some make dumb ones; some are brave and some are terrified. Though the writing style is frequently awkward and overly formal, the werewolf story itself is a fun, fantastic read.

(Now has a sequel, Luna, which I haven't read.)

Title: Remember Me?
Author: Sophie Kinsella

Blurb: After taking a nasty bump on the head, Lexi Smart awakens in a hospital convinced that it's 2004 and that she's just missed her father's funeral. It's actually three years later, and she no longer has crooked teeth, frizzy hair and a loser boyfriend. Initially wowed by what she's become--a gorgeous, cut-throat businesswoman--Lexi soon finds herself attempting to figure out how it happened. As her personality change and lost memory threaten her job, Lexi tries to dredge up some chemistry with her handsome albeit priggish husband, Eric, though the effort is unnecessary with Eric's colleague Jon, who tells Lexi that she was about to leave Eric for him.

Mini-review: It's hard enough to figure out what secrets the people around you are keeping, harder still when you've just forgotten the last three years of your life. When the people you consider best friends no longer speak to you and a stranger says he's your husband whom you love, there are plenty of personal problems to face, but Lexi also has to figure out how to save her department at work when she doesn't even remember how to do her job. The characters are sometimes flat, but frequently funny and sweet and entertaining.

Title: A La Carte
Author: Tanita S. Davis

Blurb: Seventeen-year-old Lainey has an uncommon dream: to be the first African-American celebrity vegetarian chef. She shows promise, helping out in the kitchen at her mother's Bay Area restaurant and concocting mouthwatering dishes in her spare time. Cooking is her salvation; she turns to the kitchen when things aren't going well, particularly in her precarious relationship with Simeon Keller.

Mini-review: This is a great book threaded through with recipes that sound delicious. (Of course I haven't tried to prepare them. I don't cook, though I enjoy reading about those who do.) Lainey's relationship with her family, her mother in particular, is complicated and heart-wrenching, and the way she must deal with a potentially unhealthy love for Simeon leaves the reader sad and sympathetic.

Title: Passion and Poison: Tales of Shape-shifters, Ghosts, and Spirited Women
Author: Janice M. Del Negro

Blurb: Eight original gothic tales about women who deal matter-of-factly with the supernatural.

Mini-review: Delicious, lightly creepy retellings of supernatural stories with a focus on female heroes, naming characters traditionally nameless, giving strength to characters traditionally weak. Though each story only lasts a few pages, the women were quite incredible and the stories wonderful to read.

Title: Voracious
Author: Alice Henderson

Blurb: Madeline Keye's gift--to touch someone and see flashes of the past--has set her apart from family and friends. She finds sanctuary in the wilderness, until a backcountry hike in Glacier National Park turns into a hunt--with her as the prey. Something that's not human is out there. And it's hungry.

Mini-review:* Creepy monster-in-the-woods story with a female protagonist who kicks ass. Though frequently horror stories relegate female characters to very strict roles, Madeline is neither simply victim nor villain, but a layered character who has strengths and flaws and, despite all the horror she's experienced, still struggles not only to survive but to make the world a little safer.

Whether you choose to read any of these books or not, please do remember to set aside the stresses of law school and remember the interests you had before you devoted so much of your time to the study of one thing. Take the time to do something you once loved. You'll feel so much better and more ready to face the challenges of the legal field if you spend some time saving yourself.

We're not sure how Carla finds time to save the rest of us each issue, but we're jealous. Provide your sanity saving tips to rg@umich.edu.

The Food Court: Soup: It Probably Won't Get Stolen From 200HH

2010-02-03T18:00:12Z

We were going to write a column about how Restaurant Week is a scam, and give you an industry insider's perspective on how deceitful its purported "great deals" are. Then one of us went to the Wolverines' hockey game at Joe Louis Arena, witnessed a nerve-wracking win and was filled with endorphins to the point of inducing a wave of positivity. [If you want to read our views on Restaurant Week, and other tirades against the horrible Ann Arbor restaurant scene, check out it out here.] After walking home in the cold, a rant seemed unnecessary. New topic: soup.

]]>
Since we law students are supposedly starved for free time as we take part in the act of balancing legal practice memos, catching up on Jersey Shore and speculating as to whether or not Jersey Shore characters will in fact show up at Rick's, finding an hour every day to cook and eat dinner seems like somewhat of an ordeal. Still, there's something comforting about a home-cooked meal in this weather, and nothing is more comforting or easy to make than a good homemade soup.

Aside from warming the belly, soup has a functional advantage over most other food: it is truly the only food that reheats well in the microwave. If you have meat or fish, a microwave will simultaneous steam it and overcook it. If you have pasta, it will get mushy. Same goes for most vegetables. If you have risotto, or any dish that's emulsified, the fats and solids will separate and your dish will be oily and greasy. Not good.

So if you're tired of pretending to care about the Federalist Society's "interpretation" of the Constitution just so you can eat their free Cottage Inn pizza, soup may be your solution. Soup, especially when it's puréed smooth, is liquid, and its consistency and taste will not generally be affected by microwaving. If it gets a little thick, a little water will solve that problem. It's also really the only food that can be salted after cooking, meaning that you can season it on the spot with those little salt packets from the snack bar. And so, here are some tips on how to make your soup the envy of HH200:

1. Don't overcook it
When cooking vegetable soups in particular, you don't want to let it simmer for too long. The vegetables lose nutrients, color, and flavor as they cook. Even though soup may seem like something you want to let simmer forever, some vegetable soups need only about 15 minutes of cooking.

2. Creamy without the cream
Some soups benefit from adding cream at the end, but it's not always the best way to bring out the flavors in your soup, especially with vegetables with muted flavors like squash or leeks. Instead, add a potato (Yukon gold is preferable) or two to your soup before you blend it. The potato starch will help your soup have that creamy consistency without the actual dairy.

3. Invest in equipment
If you're going to make puréed soups, which are great for microwaving, you'll need three things. First, get yourself a good blender, or at least a hand-blender. Second, buy a fine-mesh sieve to pass your soup through after it's been pureed. Push the soup through with a spoon to get a smooth consistency. And finally, get some of that Tupperware with the screw-on tops. Spillage is bad for those expensive casebooks.

4. Make croutons
Don't throw out that old bread. Making croutons by cutting it into cubes, tossing with some salt and olive oil and baking until crisp is a good way to add texture to your soups. Just pack some in a sandwich bag and bring it to school with your lunch.

5. Make your own stock
This is both a cost-saving measure and improves the flavor of your soup. Boxed or canned stock is expensive, and it isn't particularly flavorful. Making stock is very easy. Collect all your vegetable scraps during the week, pop them in a gallon of water, and let it simmer for a couple of hours. Strain, and freeze in batches. Cheap and useful. For meat stocks: start the bones in cold water with some aromatics (onion, carrot, celery, herbs), then bring to a boil. Skim off the scum that forms on top, then reduce to a simmer, and let it go for around 3 hours (depending on the amount).

6. A tip on pasta
If you're making, say, chicken noodle soup, remember that once your pasta is added to the soup, it will continue absorbing water, meaning that your leftovers will contain mushy pasta. To avoid this, cook your pasta separately until al dente, then add to the soup as needed.

7. Experiment
Remember, you can make a basic soup in fifteen minutes with a vegetable of your choice, an onion, some stock, a potato, water, and salt. It's cheap and thus lends itself well to experimentation. Try toasting some spices in your soup pot before you add your liquid. Curry and squash go very well together, for example. Bacon is good with almost any soup (well, almost anything really).

This is by no means an exhaustive list, but it should get you on your way to surviving the six months of winter we have left. And remember - don't microwave your soup spoons, plastic, metal, or otherwise.

When not running soups through China caps (and no, that's not a euphemism), the MLCC Board can be reached at mlawculinaryboard@umich.edu.