Friday, June 15, 2007


Home! First time on the Chinatown bus, which is so cheap there's no way they make a profit. Moreover, I sat next to a cute redhead, who was pleasant enough to chat with when I wasn't snoring.

Mom was in Philly for the evening with tickets to some jazz club, so I stopped in there, caught the show, and hitched a ride home.


there's a baby in here
it sounds upset



somewhere near the journal office
it stopped making noise
probably attracted some predators or something


Yes, there are an exorbitant amount of velociraptors in the library.


mutant bookworm, maybe


Sprung from the Frank Herbert section.


there it goes again. not dead.


Go abort it.


too late


Raptor get it?
Their vision is based on babies.

Watched Apocalypto with Dad, Paige, and David until 3 AM.

Great day all around.

You really look good, Scott.


Thursday, June 14, 2007


If I should ever die, God forbid, let this be my epitaph: "The only proof he needed of the existence of God was Tiny Ninja Theater."

Listening: Debussy and Ravel String Quartets, the Emerson Quartet. Two of the greatest pieces ever written.

Wednesday, June 13, 2007


My first attempt at ironing could be going better.




We got some of that.


What are you trying to iron?


The cat. It's being very uncooperative.

It's a 55% linen shirt.


Well, first off, make sure you're not wearing the cat.
Water in the iron.
Highest setting.
Small passess.
With the grain of the fur.


I think the shirt is now as wrinkled as when I started. I'm cutting my losses.


Linen is tough.


Wow, my khakis are like a dream after that shirt.


You need to get some bad rayon tropical print shirts.
No ironing required.
When anyone asks you if your shirt is wrinkled, you just reply, "actually, it's ironic."
Not that that means anything.
But if said authoritatively, it will carry the day.


I didn't think libertarians were into ironing.
There's got to be a metaphor there.

Are you going to make an Iron Curtain joke?
Because that would just be awesome.

Scheule Conspiracy

Three years of legal education has finally paid off. I've been cited on the Volokh Conspiracy.

Already added to the resume.

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

I Was Accosted By Mormons

On my way to the the metro I was attacked by two members of the Church of Latter Day Saints. I tried to beg off, told them they were wasting their time, but damned if they didn't match my continually brisker pace as I headed to the Pentagon City stop. We had a nice conversation--though I had to keep changing the topic away from prophets. God, they were nice. Both named Elder, one from Kansas (or Oklahoma, which is the same thing), and the other from Finland. Though Jay says Elder may be a title--though I could have sworn Kansas Elder said it was his name.

Anyway, they wanted to swing by my house someday and shoot the Mormon shit. I was tempted to say yes, they were so pleasant, but that would be selfish. I'd be an impossible sell. So I told them that and wished them luck.

Yesterday, I saw a bunch of LaRouchites singing an a capella arrangement outside the Foggy Bottom stop. Nothing weird, just a traditional LaRouche carol.

Gym, some errands, class, studying.

Jay sent me this picture:

(It's a mutant dog. They raise them so they so can spot people at the gym. Or something.)

Roommate being gone for the week = singing show tunes at the top of my lungs throughout the house.

Clothing optional.

Oh yeah, saw the President today. He gave a speech outside the law campus, and you could watch him speak from the 5th floor of the library. Dedicating a monument to the victims of Communism (completely privately funded--that is the monument, not Communism). Somewhat ironic to have a memorial to the victims of Communists next to a school that's cranking out another batch.

And it's goodnight from me.

Sunday, June 10, 2007


Lovely day, though little happened. Went to the gym, made a bundle of flashcards, had dinner with Jay, talked to mom, and have been sitting here in my spotless room studying, listening to Vaughan Williams's 6th and 8th. Even though he's is properly one of the second-tier composers, like say, Elgar or Richard Strauss, his symphonies are quite enjoyable. Rather dull vertically--seldom are parts brilliantly crisscrossing or anything--but nonetheless, everything has a very sumptuous sound, delicious. A better melodist than Stravinsky, though that says little.

You know, I actually thought 'Who the hell is that idiot sitting on the quad without his shirt on--oh, it's Scott.'

Allison and Scott at the Kennedy Center

Whenever I see Allison, cute and graceful to the brim, I think, "There but for the grace of God and a work ethic and musical talent go I."

On entering Hall of Nations:

ALLISON: I always like to try and recognize the flags I know, and then feel stupid for not knowing so many.

Don't worry about it. None of these nations matter anyway.

The seats I had bought were crammed down just off stage right, just two rows of short of being sitting among the second violins.

Pay attention, you can really see the emotion in the back of the concertmaster's head.

The best part of the Haydn symphony ("La Reine") was when a flute player entered, embellishing a returning main theme.

One good thing about these seats is, whenever a woodwind enters, it's always a complete surprise.

I know!

I didn't even know there was a flute up there!

This was followed by a world premiere harp concerto. The soloist, stunned me not first with her playing (though that was impressive), but with a generous eyeful of cleavage as she gave her opening bow.


Well, I'm sold.

Interesting work, written by Mark Adamo, who, according to the program, is John Corigliano's partner, which I take it means they've started some sort of business together.

Everybody swarmed to the balcony for the intermission, where the weather was beautiful, a couple of boats were lazing up the river, and the waterfront was lit up like a Lite-Brite. I explained what those three monumental eyelashes were. Then we looked around for some opened seats in the back of the hall, because a Mahler symphony is a lot to take too close.

The only thing I remember about this is that one of the movements is Frère Jacques.

So I can sing along?

If you sing along, I will leave.

On the way out:

There's the giant Kennedy head. That thing scares me.

Sometimes it follows people home. Don't answer the door tonight!


That would be the best prank ever. If only I had a friend who worked here, I would totally do that. Just bring it to your door and ring the doorbell and run away. We'd have to move it on the Metro. We'd roll it down to Foggy Bottom and then right on the car. "What are you people doing?" "Ah," I'd say, "this is for a practical joke."