StephanKinsella.com

Or do I repeat myself. I hate meetings. Drive me crazy. Take too long. People too slow. They don’t get to they want me there when I have no need to be there. They don’t get to the point. I often try to find ways to get out of them or make them less unproductive. I’ll pretend like I’m ducking out for a bathroom break and stay gone 20 minutes. Or I’ll bring in some material I need to review or a patent application I need to work on and do it while others drone on. Or I’ll clean out my cell phone text message in box or phone directory.

Sometimes I call my office number from my cell phone. This causes it to automatically call my cell phone 2 or 3 minutes later (I have it programmed to do this). So I answer the cell phone, acting like it’s an important business call, and duck out for 30 minutes.

A couple times I tried this: I’m in the office for a Saturday meeting that does not (in my nonbiased judgment) need my presense. I leave my yellow pad, pen, and coffee cup on the table and walk out. Everyone assumes I’m going to the bathroom. But I simply go to my car and leave. Unfortunately, then you leave a reminder that you are not there, that you never returned. They will razz you the next day — “Hey, I saw that coffee cup trick! you didn’t return!” But if you take you stuff with you when you leave, everyone sees you packing up and knows your intentions. Darn it, catch 22!

Another time-waster. For some reason people always plop down in my office to chat. People I don’t want to talk to. I stare at the ceiling and try to answer minimally, hoping they’ll just leave. I’ve taken to closing my door or even locking it so people have to knock. That sometimes scares bullshitters. A couple days ago a guy was in my office and was making small talk that drove me nuts. So I held my cell phone under the desk and dialed my office number. When my office phone rang, I put on a pained expression like, sorry to be unable to hear the ending to your story, and held up my hand and said, “sorry, gotta take this–” and they shuffle out.

Other tricks I use: I stand up and act like I need to go to the bathroom or get some coffee or something, and they walk out with me. Another trick: when I hear the voice of a frequent interloper outside the office, instead of sitting there and waiting for them to stop by my office next, I’ll duck out and head to the bathroom or coffee room, so I am not there when they would likely pass by.

A colleague just told me he needs to investigate something so will go online and “goggle” it.

Wife and I are both at work. She rings me.

WIFE: Hey. A guy here has two good tickets to a Houston, Texans football game next month. A Sunday in October. Want to go?

ME: Ummmmm.

ME: Ummmm. That’s pro, right?

WIFE: Of course.

ME: Ummm, well, no, not really.

WIFE: Really?

ME: Yeah. I have no desire in seeing a pro football game. Momma knows Daddy only likes to watch LSU college football. And tennis. And motocross.

WIFE: But the tickets are free?

ME: Well, frankly, I’d rather sit at home and read a book.

WIFE: You’re so boring.

ME: Look, go marry some neanderthal jock if that’s what you want. Anyway, I’ll go with you if you want. I don’t mind. But you asked me if I wanted to go. I have no positive, independent desire to go, but I’ll go with you as a favor if you want.

WIFE: They are good seats.

ME: Okay. Maybe we can leave early.

WIFE: Sure.

ME: Maybe we could bring Mr. Bean? (i.e., Ethan, aka Butterbean)

WIFE: Uhhh, I guess. I don’t see why not. I don’t think a baby needs his own ticket, does he?

ME: I dunno. We can try it.

ME: Alright. Let’s do it. I’m pumped up. Really. Rah rah.

I despise the way most journalists write their stories. They start out by alluding to something that happened but you have to read way into the story to sort of “unwind” it to figure out what the hell they are talking about. And sometimes it’s never clear. Take this example: Man wanted in brutal carjacking. It starts off:

September 8, 2004 — The search for a suspect in a brutal carjacking continues in Algonquin and Lake in the Hills. The vehicle and another suspect were found in the north suburbs but the carjacking and shooting took place in Chicago.

The Lake in the Hills Police Department dispatchers fielded about a dozen calls from residents concerned about suspicious people in the area. As the search for the second suspect continues, a man taken into custody a couple of days ago after the carjacking and police chase has been transferred to Chicago

Police Department. Detectives are questioning him, but he has not been charged yet.

They refer to “the carjacking” as if we know what they are referring to. Oh–the BRUTAL one. That one. I see.

I hate this meandering, evasive, elusive, evocative type of writing. I prefer it to be direct. Plain. Start from the beginning, explain any context, clearly state conclusions and opinions.

I recall a quote by Andy Warhol or someone else pop-ish like him, something like, “We’re trapped in this game called life, and we’re not gonna make it out alive.” Anyone know the original quote? I can’t find it or remember it exactly.

A couple years ago the Texas LP convinced me to run for judge on the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals (see below).

There was a pretty funny interview that came out of it, in LightReading, an optics industry magazine (pasted below, as the link died):

[Editor’s note: In the recent election, Stephan Kinsella was one of nine candidates vying for three judgeships on the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals. He barely missed the judgeship by a scant 2.4 million votes.]

Phil Harvey: Senior Editor, Light Reading: Are you glad the elections are over?

Stephan Kinsella: Yes, so I can get back to my job of helping AOI make the world’s best transmitter lasers for the analog cable television, wireless repeater, and telecom markets.

PH: Was this the first time you had ever run for public office?

SK: Yes, that I know of. And hopefully the last.

PH: What did you like most and least about this election?

SK: On the plus side, my wife thought I was some kind of celebrity for a few days, and kept calling me “Judge.” On the negative side, I didn’t like that the Libertarians had such a low chance of winning. I take comfort in blaming it on the populace. As the saying goes, “Nobody ever went broke underestimating the intelligence of the American public.”

PH: Ah, so you ran on the Libertarian ticket. I’m not too familiar with the party. They aren’t the ones with the white robes and hoods are they?

SK: That’s pretty funny. I’m glad to see you’re regaining your sense of humor after that terrible kiddie porn incident.

PH: Let me try another approach. You must have a pretty thick skin to run as a third party in Texas. How extensively and aggressively did you campaign? Did you do any live debates or just the normal sign-in-the-yard kind of stuff?

SK: I think I spent 2 cents total, for the paper used to fax something to the election commission. As for the extent of my campaigning, when friends and colleagues told me they would vote for me, I did my best to refrain from uttering my favorite aphorism, “Don’t vote. It only encourages them.” I’m starting to think I’m not cut out for politickin’.

PH: What was your most memorable campaigning experience?

SK: When a reporter asked me if the term for Judges on the Court of Criminal Appeals was four or six years, and I didn’t know the answer.

PH: Who’s your all-time favorite politician?

SK: My favorite is President William Henry Harrison, who caught pneumonia during his inauguration speech and died one month later. Among the living, however, my favorite is surely Congressman Ron Paul, the “Conscience of the Congress.”

PH: Where did you watch the election results? Did you have a victory party planned? If it were me, I would have made up a drinking game around the returns — like “Lose a Precinct, Take a Shot.”

SK: If I had done that, I don’t think I’d be awake yet… What’s a precinct, by the way?

— Phil Harvey, Senior Editor, Light Reading

***

See also Kinsella for Judge:

From Challengers hope to beat three incumbent judges, Houston Chronicle, Oct. 20, 2002:

Three incumbent Republicans are being challenged in their bids for re-election to the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals, the state’s highest appellate court for criminal cases.

[…]In Place 1, incumbent Tom Price faces Democrat John W. Bull, Libertarian Stephan Kinsella and Green Party nominee Robert C. “Rob” Owen.

[…] Kinsella, a Houston attorney, said there should be no hesitancy by appeals judges to overturn unconstitutional laws. He said the current court often “sides with the state because it’s run by mainstream (political party) judges.”

From Court candidates could steer path of criminal justice: 3 posts contested on court weighing life or death decisions, Dallas Morning News:

The Place 1 race pits incumbent Judge Tom Price against Democratic Municipal Court Judge John W. Bull of San Antonio. Also on the Place 1 ballot are Libertarian candidate Stephan Kinsella and Green Party candidate Robert C. Owen.

Judge Price said he didn’t want to lose a close race between the two major parties because of votes going to third-party candidates. He is focusing his efforts on personal appearances and direct mailings to those on voting lists from the Green Party and the Libertarians.

***

Stephan Kinsella: for Judge, Texas Court of Criminal Appeals, 2002

I am running, on the Libertarian Party ticket, for Place 1, Judge, Texas Court of Criminal Appeals, in the upcoming (November 5, 2002) election. The LP advocates both economic and personal liberties, and very small government.

The Texas Court of Criminal Appeals is the highest Texas state court for the appeal of criminal matters. Criminal law is crucial because it is where the rubber hits the road, from a libertarian perspective–it’s how the state ultimately enforces its laws.

The LP needs at least 4% of the vote for at least one statewide candidate to maintain ballot access in Texas. The statewide judge positions sometimes achieve this, and then some. For example, in the 2000 election (click here for historical election returns), the Libertarian candidate for Judge of the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals, Rife Scott Kimler, ran against Republicant Charles Holcomb (no Democrat or other candidate ran). Kimler received 15.5 % of the vote, or 704,237 votes, to Holcomb’s 3,824,312 (84.44%). Also, Libertarian candidates in the 2000 election for three positions on the Texas Supreme Court, running against Republican incumbents (no Democrat running), obtained 9.7%, 15.73%, and 18.66% of the vote.

Recent Press

• Challengers hope to beat three incumbent judges, Houston Chronicle, Oct. 20, 2002
• Court candidates could steer path of criminal justice: 3 posts contested on court weighing life or death decisions, Dallas Morning News
• TEXAS COURT OF CRIMINAL APPEALS: PLACE 1: Incumbent Price faces two challengers for seat, Houston Chronicle, Feb. 28, 2002

Links/Further Info

• Texas LP Candidate/Election Info
• Texas Secretary of State Candidate/Election Info
• Job profile: Texas Court of Criminal Appeals, from The Houston Chronicle
• Texas Court of Criminal Appeals info
• League of Women Voters–DemocracyNet: DNet Texas
• DNet Texas: Court of Criminal Appeals, Pl. 1

• Stephan Kinsella Bio

Final Results of 2002 General Election

Court of Criminal Appeals, Place 1

Results of the 2002 Judicial Preference Poll Results, Houston Bar Association

Court of Criminal Appeals, Place 1

Results of the 2002 General Election Poll, Dallas Bar Association

(Released 05/15/02)

Court of Criminal Appeals, Place 1

Results of the 2002 Judicial Poll, State Bar of Texas

(Released 02/13/02)

Place 1, Judge–Full Term, The Court of Criminal Appeals

And speaking of drug-experimentation… check out the posts on this thread by Tetrahedron Omega (aka Count Lithium von Chloride, aka James Redford) on his various drug trips and how they allegedly generates various so-called Levels of so-called God-Trips and all kinds of so-called direct revelation. I think he actually believes this stuff.

In a recent article by him that was called to my attention, Jesus is an Anarchist, I noticed this sign off, which led me to wonder about this Omega Point and Direct Revelation:

Born in Austin, Texas and raised in the Leander, Texas hill country, the native-born Augustinian James Redford is a young born again Christian who was converted from atheism by a direct revelation from Jesus Christ. He is a scientific rationalist who considers that the Omega Point (i.e., the physicists’

technical term for God) is an unavoidable result of the known laws of physics. His personal website can be found here: http://geocities.com/vonchloride

My wife wonders why I sometimes tend to attract … strange people as friends. I am not sure. But it does happen on occasion. After all, I am a libertarian. So some of my friends are from that group, which probably tends to draw a disproportionate share of weirdos.

Anyway. A student named Per Christian Malloch emailed me sometime in the late 1990s I believe (probably 1997-98 or so), with some bizarre, mocking, but not entirely unfriendly comments about Hans Hoppe’s argumentation ethics and some of my related rights theories. I think he was initially silly, saying things like “I’m so Hoppy I found Hoppe.”

We ended up corresponding for a while. He was a very bright young student at Columbia at the time, as I recall. He was also into Satanism, and we corresponded about that too. I think it’s silly, but did not realize until he enlightened me that Satanism is apparently not about evil or Satan. I think. Whatever.

Per was into video games and writing about them, and weird projects like The Chicken Musical (2). I once theorized he had made up his name since it seemed to connote “Of Good and Evil” (“Per” meaning of, or pertaining to; Christian meaning good; and Mal meaning “evil”) which seems to go along with his obsession with amoralism, Satanism, even libertarianism. He never replied to this question, when I asked him. (It always bugs me when people simply evade a direct question.)

He must also have been into drugs because he apparently overdosed and was found dead in his dorm room or apartment in November 2000 (obituary). I found out from an email subject lined “Remembering Per” from one of his friends, who must have found Per’s email address list and sent it out. As I recall the others on the list appeared to be a bunch of black-leather wearing Goth types. I asked one of them what happened and I believe he told me about the drugs, but I have lost the emails.

Anyhoo, Per sent me a couple of articles, which I recently found and scanned (Daddy’s going paperless big-time). So I posted them here: Amoralism in One Lesson and The Theory of the Satanic Ritual and Satanic Magic.

Per was obviously bright, but burned out and snuffed out what would in all likelihood have been an interesting, possibly intellectually productive, life. Sad. De mortuis nil nisi bonum.

Coda: In Jan. 2005, a friend of Per’s, Canon Pence (so-called), stumbled across my post about Per and sent me this: For Per: Collected Works of Per Malloch, compiled by Canon Pence, 10/6/2001–12/6/2001.

Coda 2: In August 2005, I received this email:

By chance, I came across your blog article about Per Malloch. In it you write, “I once theorized he had made up his name since it seemed to connote “Of Good and Evil” (“Per” meaning of, or pertaining to; Christian meaning good; and Mal meaning “evil”) which seems to go along with his obsession with amoralism, Satanism, even libertarianism. He never replied to this question, when I asked him. (It always bugs me when people simply evade a direct question.)”

I can provide a bit of resolution, though I imagine you’ll be disappointed. I worked with Per’s father during the time that he (renowned broadcaster and composer/musicologist William Malloch) and Per’s mother were married and subsequently conceived Per. They were living at Bill’s long-time family home on Windsor Blvd in the Larchmont neighborhood of Los Angeles, near Hollywood. I’m not sure how Bill met his wife (and cannot recall her name, it was so long ago), but their wedded bliss was short-lived and not long after Per was born, she took the baby and left for home, which was in Scandinavia. (She was a stunningly beautiful woman, very Scandinavian looking — statuesque, blond, very pretty.) Bill was deeply bereft, not of her leaving, but of her taking their son; there was nothing he could do about it, however.

During the ensuing years, Per would visit his father for several weeks each year, and the two would “bach it” at the house on Windsor. Since I was working there doing research, copying parts, etc., I would see their interaction. They were very close, and nothing was too good for his son, as far as Bill was concerned. I remember one morning arriving for work and the two of them were starting in on their second pound of fried bacon! And giggling with delight the whole time. Per was a tow-headed 4 or 5 year old at the time, but built like a boy Viking.

Anyway, to answer your question about Per’s name, his mother chose his name, Per Christian, after family members on her side; of course he got Bill’s surname. And he also got Bill’s “pun”ishing sense of humor, apparently. Anyway, that’s all I had to tell you.

Jeannie [xx]

I wrote her back: “interesting; I am not disappointed, I am glad to finally have an answer to my question. Some of his goth (?) friends informed me of his death, since I guess I was on his email list. But I never heard the story. Was he just precocious? Experimenting w/ drugs? Depressed? What happened? He was very bright. It is sad.”

Her reply, somewhat expurgated:

I worked with Per’s father, award-winning broadcaster and composer/musicologist William Malloch, during the time when he and Per’s mother were married. They were living at Bill’s family home on Windsor Blvd in the Larchmont neighborhood of Los Angeles, near Hollywood. I don’t know how Bill met his wife, Gudrun, but their marriage was short-lived and dissolved not long after Per was born. Gudrun took the baby and returned home to Scandinavia. Gudrun was a strikingly beautiful woman, statuesque, blond and blue-eyed. Bill was deeply bereft, not of her leaving, but of her taking their son; there was nothing he could do about it, however.

During the ensuing years, Per would visit his father for several weeks each year, and the two would “bach’ it” at the house on Windsor. When I was working there assisting Bill’s research on authentic tempi of Handel’s music, I would see their interaction. They were very close, and nothing was too good for his son, as far as Bill was concerned. I remember one morning arriving for work and the two of them were starting in on their second pound of fried bacon, and giggling with delight the whole time. Per was a tow-headed boy with shining blue eyes, only 4 or 5 years old at the time, but built like a boy Viking. He was a sweet boy, but very strong-minded once he made his mind up about something.

As I recall, Gudrun chose his name, Per Christian, after family members on her side; of course he bore the Malloch surname. He also inherited Bill’s “pun”-ishing sense of humor, apparently.

Jeannie [x]

I made the mistake of seeing parts of the 1994 movie The Road to Wellville on HBO this weekend. I believe it is just about The Worst movie I have ever seen. Like an Ishtar, but worse, because it gives you this grimy, unsettling feeling watching it. It’s almost worth watching if only to see how horrible it is. There’s a horrible scene when Anthony Hopkins actually makes Mathew Broderick crap into a pan and then examines the stool and criticizes it for being too smelly. Endless stuff like that. It’s really ghastly. And I am flabbergasted–Ebert gave it 3 stars….

In a chat with mi amigo Jeremy Sapienza, we were ranting over expressions we hate, and also hickisms.

For example: people who say ICKsetera or exetera, for et cetera.

My mom says, instead of “This morning,” “tuh-smornin'”. Where I come from, they call a water hose a “hose pipe”, a wash cloth is a “rag”, and a closet is a “locker”. And going grocery shopping is called “makin’ groceries”, as in, I was out makin’ groceries. And Bill Clinton just “caught a heart attack”–you know, like you catch a cold, you can catch a heart attack.

The only improvement we Southrons made to the language is “y’all.” Much better than you’ns or yous, or even “you” for plural.

However, most people are too stupid to spell it right, they spell it “ya’ll”. No comprehension of what the apostrophe is really for. Speaking of contractions–there was a great hamburger place in Baton Rouge, but the way they spelled their name bugged me: The Ground Pat’i. I’m like you dumb idiots. The ‘ is meant to replace missing stuff, like in can’t it replaces “no” and in y’all it replaces ou. What does it replace in “Pat’i”? the letter “t”?? Idiots. Morons.

Another pet peeve is using an apostrophe for plural, as in cat’s when you mean cats. Or, even worse: it’s for its. A sign of utter stupidity and illiteracy.

A friend recently saw something on my blog, and he said, “Isn’t the blog wonderful?” Uhhh, “the blog”? as if it’s the Internet. As if there is one big “blog” out there that my blog sits on or something. I’m like, let the professionals use the tech talk, dude. Don’t try it on your own.

This guy I know keeps talking about Iraqians. Uhhh, Iraqis, you mean? As Jeremy says, “he needs to be sausage. call Sweeney Todd.” Which means, stupid people are more valuable as sausage; Sweeney Todd is a reference to a play where this guy who returns to London from the Aussie penal colony he cuts the throats of all the people who crossed him decades back, and sends them down to the pie maker downstairs who makes mincemeat and sausage out of them.

Another one that irks me is these stupid over-the-top I’m proud to be a New Yawk Eye-tie types who refer to pizza as “pie”. Look, pie is fricking lemon or chocolage pie, you know, dessert, not pizza. And the sing-song term pizza-pie is even worse, makes you sound like a silly Italian. Stupid New Yorker Italian pizza maker types. Pie means apple. Like I’m gonna call “Pie Hut” for delivery. Domino’s Pies Delivers. Gag me.

And I hate it when people refer to soft drinks as “sodas”. Or worse, “pop”. It’s a soft drink, man! And these stupid yankees who say that Southerners refer generically to all soft drinks as “Coke”–I’m from Louisiana and don’t recall ever once hearing someone do that. Anyway–hi, I’ll have a sodee-pop? What are we, in the friggin’ ’50s? Hi, I’m a soda-jerk!

Speaking of jerk–that’s anoher one: the stupid name “Jerk Chicken”. Give me a break. I knoq, I know, Jeremy tells me, “but that’s the name!” Well I dont like it. Jeremy says, “it’ Jamaican dumbass!” I say, no excuse! “Jerk” chicken. Harumph! How about Choke Chicken? Or Jolt Cola (oops). If you can have jerk chicken, why not shake trout, or whiplash pig. Or vibrate duck.

And i hate the word “condom”. When I grew up, it was RUBBER.

All this stupid Dilbert lingo drives me nuts. Stupid buzzwords. Like, “Well, to look at this more closely, let’s copter down to the blueprint level”. Also: “Mission critical”. Anyone who uses buzzwords is in a low level job.

I hate that accent of Kerry when he said “in a fashion reminiscent of Genghis Khan,” sounded like Thurston Howell the III. What’s up with people who name their kids after themselves? I mean get over yourself. Jesus.

It’s kind of funny how people call J.C. Penney “Jacque Puh-NAY”. Target is called Tarzhay. Or Neiman Marcus Needless Markup.

My wife likes HGTV but why do they always have a stupidly low budget on this fix-up design shows. Like, remodel the family room for $750! “We can make a lampshade for $2! All you need is some beeswax and old newspaper!” Wooooo.

Back on lingo–the illiterates where I grew up also say “come” instead of “came,” as in “Yestiddy he come over to the house.” And they say “cain’t” instead of “can’t”. “Ah cain’t hep it, Steph.” And they say “Aint” for Aunt. Mah aint betsy. It’s better than the New England way of saying Ahhhhnt. But I was raised with Aint Janice and Aint Myrtle etc.

Now what they really need to do is standardize the informal term for grandmother and grandfather. It’s too diverse. There is mammy, pappy, meemaw, Maw Maw, Ma Ma, Granma, Grammy. Me, I prefer Maw Maw and Paw Paw, me. (Another Coonass-ism from South Louisiana is repeat “me” at the end of a sentence, as in, “I’m gonna get me some crawfish, me.”) And if you need to distinguish, the first name of the husband, or something like that. For example, my grandparents were Bill and Pep Rodgers, and Pete and Theda Kinsella. So we called them, natrally, Maw Maw Bill and Paw Paw Bill… and… Maw Maw Kin and Paw Paw Kin. See, in Louisiana you call adults by their first name, but with Mr. or Mrs. So my neighbor quite literally was Mr. Ed and Mrs. Mary Jo. I still call him Mr. Ed when I see him. Except they say “Miss” for Mrs. so my mother in law is Miss Sue. No one sais “mizz-rizz” or “misses” for Mrs. They say “Miss”.

A guy just emailed in a list I’m on: “There is no cut-and-dry way to determine this…” Uhhh cut and DRIED maybe? People are so STUPID. Same dumbasses say “ice tea”. WTF is ice tea? Tea made from ice?It’s ICED TEA, MORON.

CODA: Jesse Ogden has a funny take (2) on this. Yes, I admit it, I’m a language nazi! My way or the highway, pal! While I might have seemingly arbitrary exceptions for some deviations from standard rules, by and large my exceptions are based on an aversion to deviations from (a) yankees (“pop”); (b) fops and other pretentious types (“ahhhnt” or “at university”); or (c) where the expression is just goofy (quoting Mr. Dooley; hey, presto!; willy-nilly).

The latest from the indefatigable Tucker Max is disgustingly hilarious. Is a warning really necessary?