It Don't Take No Sherlock Holmes to See It's a Little Different Around Here

Excuse me, everyone, I have an announcement to make...

It's safe to come out, my friends. (After today), the Liverpool F.C. posts are done until...at least late July/early August.

I know, I know. The disappointment may be too deep for you to speak right now.

Sometimes, when the things you love come to an end, you must soldier on the face of adversity. When things grow dim and the way looks bleak, just remember the resilience of the mouse that fell into that tub of cream, who, instead of accepting his impeding death, defiantly chose to churn that cream until it turned into butter.

Okay, you've got me, folks. This story has nothing to do with mice, nothing (hopefully) to do with the excessive use of cliches, and everything to do with experiencing disappointment from something as ultimately meaningless as sports.

Despite a great effort today at the always forbidding Stamford Bridge, the Reds lost to Chelsea 3-2 and 4-3 on aggregate to crash out of the Champions League. Meanwhile, the Blues advance to face Manchester United in the inaugural All-English Champions League Final on the 21st of May in Moscow.

Despite telling various friends earlier today that I would stoop so low as to root for the "English Evil Empire", I've actually changed my mind. I'm rooting for the meteor.

Yes, that's right, the definitive stroke over the course of the two matches was the own-goal scored by Liverpool's John Arne Riise, but hey, I'm not throwing the guy under the bus or anything. Speaking of which, how many times has the phrase "threw him under the bus" been used in the last 48 hours after the latest Obama/Rev. Wright dustup? My apologies for the digression.

As a sports fan, it's often difficult to remember that disappointment really is the normal state of affairs. As they say, only one team's season can end with a victory, but that doesn't mean that millions of us don't get much too excited about something that will almost certainly end in a letdown.

Sure, Liverpool have won the European Cup/Champions League 5 times, the English First Division/Premier League 18 times, and the F.A. Cup 7 times, but technically, they've lost the First Division/Premier League over 90 times, the European Cup/Champions League 48 times, and the F.A. Cup over 129 times.

Sheesh. You would think that by placing my allegiance with one of the only remaining Major League Baseball teams to have never even played in a League Championship Series I would have learned how to deal with this "LOSING" type thing, but if I've learned anything in 24 years of being a male, it's how to have a selective memory.

Now that I look at that last paragraph, I realize how depressing it is, even for Finals week.

Friday cannot come soon enough.

All of That's What the Point is Not

Despite the likelihood that this commercial is shot from the perspective of Arsenal FC, and Netherlands international, striker Robin Van Persie, it still gets the Running Down a Dream seal of approval.

The video was directed by Guy Ritchie, he of Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels, Snatch, and Madonna spousal fame.

Just Watching the Miles Flying By

Today, Coldplay released what appears to be the first single from their upcoming album, which has the creative (and long-winded) title of Viva La Vida or Death and All His Friends.

The song is called "Violet Hill", and it features Chris Martin singing in a lower range than usual along with much more pronounced guitar work from Johnny Buckland.

You can listen to it here.

Any thoughts on the song? Love it? Hate it? Are you completely and utterly apathetic about it?

Also, if the image posted on the website promoting the use of the single is the actual album cover, Coldplay has made an interesting choice in artwork. I love the French Revolution as much as the next guy, well, maybe not as much as Victor Hugo, but guys, you're British, is it too much to put up a nice image of your own revolution/civil war?

For instance, Oliver Cromwell.
You could have chosen Oliver, Coldplay, but no, you picked the scantily clad French woman.

Typical, boys.

Typical.

You Are Not My Typewriter, But You Could Be My Demon

As I was working my way through David Halberstam's The Fifties, I came across Halberstam's description of the 1952 Presidential race. In addition to his depiction of the reluctant candidacy of Eisenhower, I thought Halberstam's description of Democratic nominee Adlai Stevenson's campaign was very applicable to the current Democratic nomination process, or as "The Daily Show" has taken to calling it: "The Long, Flat, Seemingly Endless Bataan Death March to the White House."

In fact, the similarities between Governor Stevenson and Senator Obama are striking. Both hail from the Land of Lincoln, both spent time at Harvard Law School (Stevenson dropped out after a few classes and Obama, well, he did much better than that), and both practiced law in Chicago before entering the political arena.

In fact, I'm going to remove Stevenson's name from the following passage simply to demonstrate how similar the critiques of Obama have been to those that Stevenson received.

[His] distinctive speaking style quickly earned him the reputation of an intellectual and endeared him to many Americans, while simultaneously alienating him from others. Although he employed a number of first-rate speech writers, [He] also wrote many of his own speeches. Although [His] eloquent oratory and thoughtful, stylish demeanor thrilled many intellectuals and members of the nation's academic community, the Republicans and some working-class Democrats ridiculed what they perceived as his indecisive, aristocratic air.

Even though that paragraph attempted to describe the campaign of an Democratic Presidential hopeful from Illinois 56 years ago, it could have been pulled from the pages of any newspaper, magazine, or blog today.

Come On, Come On, You Think You Drive Me Crazy

Is the following scenario, outlined by Slate's Chris Wilson on the "Trailhead" blog, likely to take place? No, in fact, I would place better odds on Larry the Cable Guy winning an Oscar, but that doesn't mean that it's not fun to toss around for a short while.

Obama, on the other hand, is fully capable of it. And if he’s really serious about representing a new kind of politics, now is the time for him to prove it in the only meaningful way left. Moreover, were he to play it right, dropping out now nearly guarantees that he’ll be elected president in 2012.
Here’s the roadmap:

Obama drops out next week, stating that although he could almost certainly win the nomination by fighting it out until the convention in August, he is simply not willing to drag the party through a battle that will cripple its chances against John McCain. He then pledges to help support Sen. Clinton in her bid—with full knowledge that she will not take him up on the offer.

In one stroke, Obama will regain his messiah creds by making the ultimate sacrifice for the good of the party. His followers will be furious. The mere mention of Clinton’s name will provoke unspeakable acts. They will abandon Clinton in numbers sufficient to hand McCain the election in November.

Losing the presidency again after eight years of Bush will ruin the Democratic Party. It will become obvious that Clinton’s decision to stay in the race was the turning point in the election. The base will turn its wrath on party leaders like Howard Dean and Nancy Pelosi, who failed to push Clinton out. Obama, as the de facto head of the party, will broker negotiations to install new leaders loyal to him.

McCain will be eminently more beatable in 2012. Demographics will continue to shift in Obama’s favor as his 14- to 17-year-old supporters come of voting age. Anyone foolish enough to challenge Obama for the nomination—and don’t rule out Clinton—will go nowhere. Obama’s utopian vision for a Democratic party unified around him will be complete.

I'm not sure if I subscribe to the school of thought that says the current Democratic contest has been so contentious that it will cause those who support the losing candidate to "sit out" the general election against John McCain and coughRalphNadercough, but I can tell you this: If the course holds to its current bearings, the 2008 Democratic National Convention will be the first certifiably unpredictable political convention in my lifetime.

Regardless of whether you plan to support McCain, Obama, Clinton, or Nader in the fall, the American political landscape promises to be anything but boring.

You Forget So Easy, We Ride Tonight, Ghost Horses

Congratulations to Mr. Ryan Searcey for correctly naming "Caught by the River" by Doves as the Thursday Song of the Day. Not even Mr. Searcey's reverse psychology could keep the Rangers from losing their 7th straight game yesterday, but today, today, my friends, was a different story.

The Rangers may be 8-16 with 138 games to play in the campaign, but I think you will all agree with me when I say that an eventual 146-16 record is nothing to scoff at in the long run.

Good citizens of the Metroplex, once the venerable Sheriff Roger Goodell provides the final thumbs-up to the reinstatement of "The Rain Man", I expect all of you to stay away from all gentleman's establishments, firearms dealers, and other places of potential disrepute.

Also, if any of you are worried about the whirlwind of chaos that seems to follow the Pacman wherever he roams, just find someone to relax with in those times of trouble. Someone who really knows how to let the stress of life just melt away.

For instance, an off-season Josh Howard.

Just make sure he doesn't eat all of your Doritos and Pizza Rolls.

So Many People, So Many People Pass

In what is quickly becoming a daily event at Running Down a Dream, I offer my congratulations to Mr. Jeremy Masten for correctly naming "Run" by Snow Patrol as the Wednesday Song of the Day. That's four days in a row, folks. It seems that Jeremy's current run is inversely related to the success of the Rangers (on a current 6 game losing streak). Everyone, for the good of the Rangers, I'm begging you to dethrone Mr. Masten.

It's not often that a national newspaper files a feature story with the dateline "Kokomo, Indiana", but with the never-ending slog that is the current Democratic nomination process, that has changed. My Dad grew up in Tipton, Indiana, which is about 20 miles southeast of Kokomo, and other than possessing the only "sitdown" McDonald's in America, there is nothing remarkable about the city.

With that said, it these "typical" American cities and towns that hold a tremendous amount of responsibility for determining the identity of the Democratic nominee this fall.

As the Democratic presidential hopefuls turned to Indiana as a new battleground in the fight for the nomination, they find themselves facing a different audience in places like Kokomo, a blue-collar city in the middle of endless expanses of farms north of Indianapolis. In some ways, these are voters not so unlike those in other Rust Belt states, like Pennsylvania, but with an added dose of nostalgia and a practical, Midwestern sensibility.

“We are manufacturing workers, farmers, beer drinkers, gun owners, pickup drivers,” said Karen Lasley, 64, who was volunteering on Wednesday morning in Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton’s field office in Kokomo (one of 28 Mrs. Clinton has opened around the state along with Senator Barack Obama’s 22, including one just down the street). “We are full of pride for this country.”

Politically, though, Indiana is by no means monolithic: its terrain is more of a quilt, as elaborate as its tangled time-zone map, complicating matters for the campaigns as they decide where to devote time and money.

"For Indiana Voters, Talk of Change May Fall Flat" by Monica Davey in the New York Times.

Light Up, Light Up, As If You Have a Choice

Congratulations, once again, to Mr. Jeremy Masten for correctly naming "Supermassive Black Hole" by Muse as the Tuesday Song of the Day. Jeremy, I think your streak might be the DiMaggio mark for Running Down a Dream. In the midst of the debacle that is the Rangers 2008 season, you have risen above the outright putridity to salvage some semblance of excellence.

Just how disheartening was John Arne Riise's 94th minute own goal yesterday which gifted Chelsea a highly undeserved 1-1 draw at Anfield in the first leg of their Champions League semifinal with Liverpool? So disheartening that Lance Agan, not normally a futbol aficionado, saw fit to send these condolences:

I know we talked on the phone about it last night, but can I go ahead and tell you (again) what happens? OK, so Liverpool is up 1-0 with time stoppage time running out. I mean really, there's maaayyybe a minute left and the game will be over, the Reds victorious. Anyway, in a last-ditch effort to score, Chelsea centers the ball from the corner, and out of nowhere comes a Liverpool defender, and get this- HE HEADS IT INTO HIS OWN GOAL!! The game is now tied, 1-1. Holy cow, I did NOT see that coming! Man, I don't even like soccer/futbol and this one hurts. I can't begin to imagine how bad it must suck for you.

The one point of solace for Riise is the fact that he is not a Columbian citizen nor does he play for the Columbian national team. After scoring an own-goal against the United States during World Cup 1994, Columbian defender Andres Escobar was murdered upon his return to Columbia.
John Arne, make sure you stay away from anyone and everyone that looks like the late Pablo Escobar.

The Liverpool-Chelsea saga continues next Wednesday in West London at Stamford Bridge. Hope is waning, but it is never lost.

You Caught Me Under False Pretenses, How Long Before You Let Me Go?

In approximately 37 minutes, Liverpool and Chelsea will kickoff their 3rd Champions League semifinal duel in the last four years.

Due to the fact that I will be in class during the match, it is currently being recorded for later viewing at Vice President Cheney's "Undisclosed Location". Also, I'm going into strict radio silence, which means that all phone calls, text messages, smoke signals, sign language, obscene gestures, rhythmic gymnastics, emails, Facebook messages and/or wall posts, will be met with a stony silence that only a scorned lover could provide.

I'll see you on the other side.

Let's GO REDS!!!

This Is One Scene That's Going to Be Played My Way

Congratulations once again to Mr. Jeremy Masten for correctly naming "Dream On" by Aerosmith as the Sunday Song of the Day. Jeremy, I have to agree with you that "Dream On" represents Aerosmith's finest work and found its best use (in my opinion) to date in this ESPN SportsCentury "Greatest Moments" montage. "Dream On" begins around 1:37.

You see videos like that all the time on YouTube now, but I can still remember when this video premiered on ESPN in late 1999. In my 15-year old brain it was the greatest thing of all-time, narrowly besting the worthy contender of the nearly-fulfilled promise of a driver's license and a 1991 Toyota Camry with 100,000K+ miles.

I came across a the following story in the NY Times today, and the call to action is impossible to ignore, my friends.

Recently in Dallas, more than an hour before game time, Mark Cuban, the owner of the Dallas Mavericks, was in the locker room grinding on the Stairmaster, surrounded by several reporters — their microphones deployed, heads tilted away to avoid flying droplets of sweat.

A reporter for The Dallas Morning News, who writes a blog, asked Mr. Cuban about a bruised Dirk Nowitzki, referring to the star power forward as a “warrior” for his willingness to play while injured. “We’re not trading him to the Warriors,” said Mr. Cuban.

“Bloggers might make that point.” The comment was a bit of word play, but it illustrates how Mr. Cuban, a prolific blogger himself, feels about some of the bloggers who cover his team.

Last month Mr. Cuban sought to ban bloggers from the Mavericks’ locker room, but the National Basketball Association intervened, ruling that bloggers from credentialed news organizations must be admitted. Mr. Cuban then decided to let in any blogger — “someone on Blogspot who has been posting for a couple weeks, kids blogging for their middle school Web site or those that work for big companies.”

"Tension Over Sports Blogging" by Tim Arango of the New York Times.

You realize what this means, don't you?

I'm calling on The Blahg, Slowly Going Bald, The Jig and Twig, Osler's Razor, Living and Loving in Natal, Brazil, Prosso Speaks, Magnificent Vista, Alico Dreams, Chapter 2, Lovin' Life, Urban Cowboy, Yee of Little Faith, and everyone else out there in Blogfrica: Let's call Mark Cuban's bluff. I cannot wait to waltz into the Mavericks' locker-room while simultaneously introducing myself to Dirk Nowitzki as the Editor-in-Chief of Running Down a Dream.

Everybody's Got Their Dues in Life to Pay

Congratulations to Mr. Jeremy Masten for correctly naming "El Scorcho" by Weezer as the Saturday Song of the Day.

So it came to pass last Saturday night, in what is surely the most preposterous photo-op in campaign history, Hillary Rodham Clinton of Wellesley and Yale was pounding down Crown Royal whisky from a shot glass at Bronko's bar in Indiana. A friend emailed that if she really wanted to win Pennsylvania, she would have drunk some of the draft beer in her left hand, dropped the shot glass into the mug and slammed that back. But hey, her heart was in the right place.

"Hillary and Obama in Small Town" by Daniel Henninger of The Wall Street Journal.

I'll Bring Home the Turkey If You'll Bring Home the Bacon

Future Reading

1. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay: A Novel by Michael Chabon
2. Soldier: The Life of Colin Powell by Karen DeYoung
3. Ted Williams: The Biography of an American Hero by Leigh Montville
4. War in a Time of Peace: Bush, Clinton, and the Generals by David Halberstam
5. Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck
6. A Man in Full by Tom Wolfe

I Spoke Your Name for Many Days

Congratulations to Mr. Ben Grant, the newly-minted resident Phish expert round these parts, for correctly naming "Twist" by Phish as the Friday Song of the Day.

Once again, I prove to be quite the homer for another First Ballot Hall of Famer...

Current Reading

The Fifties by David Halberstam

Also, in the season of graduation ceremonies and commencement speeches exhorting graduates to go out and do whatever it is that people do when they graduate, I thought that the following video was appropriate. Halberstam's address to the Tulane University Class of 2003 is about 26 minutes long, but it is one of the more honest and insightful commencement addresses that I have heard.

Speaking of which, when I was about five years old, our family attended the high school graduation of a family friend. The East Texas-centric readers of this blog will appreciate the fact that the commencement speaker that evening was none other than Mr. Bo Pilgrim of Pilgrim's Pride Chicken. If there is anything that is more troubling to a young child than a clown it is probably a pilgrim.

Just ask Professor Osler.

When You Heard the End Result, I Told You It Was Not My Fault

Ladies and gentlemen, this week's Caption Contest is not going to reach its full potential unless you, the readers of this blog, start acting like you care about said contest's vitality.

Do with this information what you will.

Also, I'm convinced this morning's Illinois/Indiana earthquake was God's retribution for the abomination that is Kyle Orton's neckbeard.

Mr. Orton, with a sling and a stone, David slew Goliath. With a Gillette Mach 3, you can stop natural disasters.

Silent Scenes in Motion Means I'll Wake You When We're There

Many thanks to Mr. Andrew Tuegel for passing along the following tragic tale...

Citing a need for physical and spiritual cleansing after a Boston Red Sox fan entombed a David Ortiz jersey in the floor of the new facility, the New York Yankees buried former centerfielder Bernie Williams under 4,650 pounds of concrete Wednesday in the foundation of the new Yankee Stadium for good luck.

According to team sources, the instant the 39-year-old Williams was completely submerged in the rapidly setting structural material, stopping his voice as his lungs and mouth filled with concrete, the sun broke through the clouds and shone on the yet-incomplete field. Yankees part-owner Hank Steinbrenner called the occurrence a sign indicating that the "Curse Of A Red Sox Fan's David Ortiz Jersey" had been reversed, and that God was once again on the Yankees' side.

"Yankees Bury Bernie Williams Under New Stadium for Good Luck" in The Onion.

Honestly, how did The Onion know what I wished for last year on my birthday?

A dead Bernie Williams?

No.

A dead, concrete-asphyxiated Bernie Williams?

Undoubtedly yes.

Don't Touch Me, I'm a Real Live Wire

Congratulations to Mr. Peter Pope for correctly naming "Supposed to Be" by Jack Johnson as the Tuesday Song of the Day.

I realize that all of the warning signs are there (Phish fandom, 4/20 references, and posts about Bong Hits 4 Jesus), but this blog and its author are, and always have been, marijuana free. With that said, there's one more point about the Morse case that I wrote about last week that bears mentioning.

Prof. Civil Liberties informed us that when the Supreme Court granted certiorari on Morse v. Frederick, a substantial number of the justices on the U.S. Supreme Court had no idea what the words "bong hit" meant. As I have stated previously in this post, I have no personal knowledge of the intricacies of such an event myself, but it absolutely blew my mind that some of the greatest legal minds in America had no idea what the phrase "Bong Hits 4 Jesus" might entail.

Granted, the phrase is nonsensical, but it seems that the intense focus necessary to sit on the highest court in the United States also renders one oblivious to the continuing evolution of drug slang in the culture at large.

Other shocking admissions from Supreme Court justices:

• Associate Justice Stephen Breyer: "When is Nirvana putting out another album? This Cobain guy is really falling behind."

• Associate Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg: "I'm thinking about buying property in El Dorado, Texas. Seems like a quiet place with normal folks."

• Associate Justice Samuel Alito: "I think Isiah Thomas just needs a shot with another team with more cap space."

• Associate Justice Clarence Thomas: "(Silence)."

• Associate Justice David Souter: "Paul McCartney? Never heard of him."
  

Looking Forward as We Rewind

Coldplay are currently holed up in a studio in northern London, trying to hammer out the details for their still-untitled fourth album, due out in May. On a white board, three band members have posted radically different proposed track listings for the album. Chris Martin has withheld his, hoping to lobby his colleagues a little while longer. "I heard a Bono quote once that said 'Bands shouldn't break up over money, they should break up over track listing,' "he says. "Nothing could be more pertinent at this point."

To record their fourth album, the band hired legendary producer Brian Eno and pointedly tried to remove all outside influences. "We felt like the first three albums were a trilogy, and we finished that," says guitarist Johnny Buckland. "So we wanted to do something different." The band let Rolling Stone hear the songs they're working on, and most are refreshingly, bracingly different from Coldplay hits like "Clocks" and "Speed of Sound."

Several tracks are considerably rougher around the edges, with distorted guitars and more prominent percussion. The lyrics are darker, dealing with recurring themes of death and loneliness. And on several songs, Martin extends his vocal palette considerably beyond the falsetto that has largely defined him, exhibiting a lower, sexier mode that feels more personal and real. "Whether or not it's good, we certainly started to use more colors," says Martin. "It's impossible to please everybody, and it took us a while to learn that. It's just the freedom to say, 'Everyone might not like this. We're into it at the moment, so let's just get it done.' "

"Coldplay at Work on 'Something Different' for New Album" by Evan Serpick in Rolling Stone.

With U2 and Coldplay both releasing albums this year, it will be very interesting to see if the boys from London gain any ground on the Dubliners in the mythical battle for the title of "World's Biggest Band".

As a bonus, here's "Swallowed in the Sea" from a 2006 concert in Toronto.

Looking Back is a Trap Sometimes, Being Here is So Easy to Do

Muted congratulations to Mr. John Middleton for correctly naming "Alive" by Pearl Jam as the Sunday Song of the Day. Mr. Middleton, if the Blues can only draw with Wigan 1-1 at "Fortress" Stamford Bridge, how are they going to withstand consecutive matches with Liverpool, Man. U., and Liverpool (once again) in the span of a week?

Last week in Civil Liberties, we discussed attorney advertising, and I swore a silent oath to myself that I would never engage in such a practice, but it appears others are making that promise ring hollow.

Finally, congratulations to Mr. Dan Carlson as the winner of last week's Caption Contest (the Gen. Petraeus/Wii photo*).

Dan's response: "Why buy body armor when there are video games to be played?"

This Week's Photo

My submission: "The first suspect in Big Papi's murder? This mysterious JBD fellow."

As always, the Caption Contest runs through Sunday (4/20). Heh, 4/20. Um, not that I know anything about that. I'll just show myself out and you can place your submissions in the comments section.

*After further examination of the photo, General Petraeus seems to be swinging left-handed while the character on the screen is swinging from a right-handed position. Perhaps there's something I'm missing here, but if there's a metaphor for our oft-bungled presence in Iraq, that might be it.

Say Something Once, Why Say It Again?

This afternoon, while watching the Masters, I said two derogatory things.

First, I said that I hoped Trevor Immelman would have a massive collapse down the stretch.

Second, I wished that the FreeCreditReport.com guy would die a slow death in a wood-chipper.

I only regret one of them.

Trevor, please accept my apologies.

Son, She Said, Have I Got a Little Story for You

I'm not related to ace field reporter Brian Scott, but man, I wish I was.

Plight Of Missing Hikers Will Make Great Movie

There Was Nothing to Fear and Nothing to Doubt

They say the 21st century is going to be the Asian Century, but, of course, it’s going to be the Bad Memory Century. Already, you go to dinner parties and the middle-aged high achievers talk more about how bad their memories are than about real estate. Already, the information acceleration syndrome means that more data is coursing through everybody’s brains, but less of it actually sticks. It’s become like a badge of a frenetic, stressful life — to have forgotten what you did last Saturday night, and through all of junior high.

"The Great Forgetting" by David Brooks in today's NY Times.

I realize that at times this blog risks becoming a pro-David Brooks propaganda machine, but if you appreciate his opinion pieces, I would strongly suggest picking up both Bobos in Paradise: The New Upper Class and How They Got There and On Paradise Drive: How We Live Now (And Always Have) in the Future Tense.

Also, if you needed more incentive to pick up those books, he's a first-ballot Hall of Famer!

We All Went to Heaven in a Little Row Boat

Congratulations once again to Mr. Andrew Shipp (a.k.a. “The T.J. Hooker, excuse me, Hooper”) for correctly naming "Round Here" by Counting Crows as the Thursday Song of the Day.

In the interest of full disclosure, the following series will probably have a brief, meteoric run for obvious reasons...

You Better Know a Supreme Court Litigant

Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the first in a series of posts aiming to provide you with a more concrete connection to the Supreme Court of the United States. Solely for the purposes of efficiency, I will use SCOTUS throughout the rest of this post and the ones to come. You like acronyms, don't you?

Yesterday in Civil Liberties, during the portion of the syllabus dealing with symbolic speech, we covered the recently decided case of Morse v. Frederick*. In addition to a discussion of the legal principles involved in the resolution of the matter, we were also enlightened on the inner-workings in the field of ceramic drug paraphernalia. Some of you might know the Frederick case by its alternate name, "Bong Hits 4 Jesus".

A quick summary of the facts follows:

The dispute arose in advance of the Winter Olympics of 2002. The Olympic torch relay was passing through Juneau as the torch was on its way to Salt Lake City, and Juneau schools decided to turn the event into a teachable moment by letting students watch.

At Juneau-Douglas High School, Principal Deborah Morse allowed students, under supervision, to watch the torch runner pass in front of the school. School cheerleaders and the pep band performed.

Some students watched from across the street as well. In that group, student Joseph Frederick had other plans for when the torch passed. As cameras recorded the moment, he and other students unfurled a large banner that read: "BONG HITS 4 JESUS." He later described it as a humorous, meaningless, and not at all pro-drug, message.

When Morse asked the students to take down the banner, all complied except Frederick, who asserted his First Amendment rights. Morse grabbed and crumpled the banner and suspended Frederick for five days. During a later discussion, according to his brief, Frederick quoted Thomas Jefferson to her -- and his suspension was increased to 10 days. Frederick sued in federal court.

Chief Justice John Roberts, writing for a 5-person majority, asserted that although students do have some right to political speech even while in school, this right does not extend to pro-drug messages that may undermine the school's important mission to discourage drug use. The majority held that Frederick's message, though "cryptic," was reasonably interpreted as promoting marijuana use - equivalent to "[Take] bong hits" or "bong hits [are a good thing]." In ruling for Morse, the Court affirmed that the speech rights of public school students are not as extensive as those adults normally enjoy.

That's all very well and good, but besides learning that I could not have walked into Whitehouse High School wearing my favorite "Bong Hits for Cheech and Chong" jacket** without expecting some type of punishment, the truly interesting aspect of this case, at least for me, was that Frederick was actually the cousin of some of my best friends growing up.

Although I cannot say that I would have laid a little cash on the proposition that Frederick would be the only person I have ever met that was a Supreme Court litigant, in hindsight, it does not seem like a very risky wager. Frederick grew up in Henderson, which for those of you who know East Texas, is just a county over from the Tyler/Whitehouse/Bullard metropolitan area. My friends Bryan and Brad (Frederick's cousins) would frequently comment that their cousin was one of the more outspoken/wacky kids that they had ever met, but when you're in middle school, who isn't a bit odd?

After Frederick's parents divorced, he went with his Dad to Alaska, which is why he found himself on a Juneau street in 2002, watching the Olympic Torch pass by and waiting to unfurl a banner that would ultimately lead him to the SCOTUS.
Following the events of 1/24/02, he received a settlement from the Juneau Police Department for harassment happening after the Bong Hits incident, and his father received a settlement from his employer -- the school district's insurance company (he claims he was fired for not pressuring Joseph into dropping the suit).

Frederick is now teaching English in China.

This has been the first post in the series "You Better Know a Supreme Court Litigant". Any suggestions for future posts in the series would be greatly appreciated.

*Morse v. Frederick, 75 LW 4487 (2007)
**I did not own one of these, nor do I think that one actually exists.

Step Out the Front Door Like a Ghost Into the Fog

A Mighty Wind blew through Running Down a Dream today, and that wind goes by the name of the T.J. Hooper. You might know him a bit better as Mr. Andrew Shipp. In one of those ideas that seemed passably funny at the time, a fellow law student and I nicknamed Mr. Shipp "The T.J. Hooper" after a famous tugboat that was the subject of a case in Torts I.

Did you see what we did there?

Tugboat=Shipp.

Um, let's just move on from my memories of past failed attempts at humor.

As I said earlier, congratulations to Mr. Shipp for naming "Glycerine" by Bush as the Monday Song of the Day and "Up on Cripple Creek" by The Band as the Wednesday Song of the Day. I'll forgive all of you for not recognizing "Wishlist" by Pearl Jam as the Tuesday Song of the Day. You almost certainly saw photos depicting the Beautiful Game and closed your browser faster than Eliot Spitzer closed out his political career.* I can understand such a visceral reaction to the soccer photos, but I cannot forgive it, my dear readers.

Current Reading

Empire Falls by Richard Russo

*That's the last Spitzer joke. I think.

When I Get Off This Mountain, You Know Where I Wanna Go?

All of which sidesteps the central problem: I'd be just as dead if I fell off on the next mountain I attempt as on the tenth mountain, and my family would be just as wounded, statistics and me be damned. When I look down and see bad protection and look up and see scary climbing, or when stones start falling or avalanches roar by, suddenly the bottom drops out of my stomach and the whole climbing enterprise looks like the selfish, foolish, absurd, and potentially destructive activity it really is.

Condemning Siena [Harlin's daughter] to grow up fatherless and my mother to live through her son's death becomes an unforgiveable sin, never mind the effect my death would have on me, or for that matter Adele [Harlin's wife]. What can justify this? Nothing. Certainly not personal whimsy. I can only pretend that this pursuit is irresistible, that what I get out of it is worth the risk I place upon others, and that I'll be wise enough to keep on doing it until I die of old age.

Current Reading

The Eiger Obsession: Facing the Mountain that Killed My Father by John Harlin III

I Wish I Was the Evidence, I Wish I Was the Grounds

Chalk another one up on the “Great European nights at Anfield” tribute board. There is no better place to be in the world when Liverpool pull off a victory like this. The walls shake, the roof rattles and the ears are strained to exploding point.

Rafa Benitez’s Reds performed another Champions League miracle after twice looking like they were heading out of the competition last night. Now it is a third semi-final showdown with Chelsea in four years — and you would not bet against Rafa doing the business once again.

"Liverpool 4 Arsenal 2: Aggregate 5-3" by Shaun Custis in The Sun.

Fair warning to Running Down a Dream readers of all ages: there will probably be a vagabond around these parts for the next month spewing pro-Chelsea F.C. rhetoric. He goes by the moniker "IMV". You might know him as John Middleton. Don't fall prey to his schemes.
As always, believe in the Reds, my dear readers. They will never steer you wrong.

Don't Let the Days Go By

Congratulations to Mrs. Sarah Yee as the latest winner of the McLennan County (as opposed to World) Famous Running Down a Dream Caption Contest.

For this extremely troubling photograph of talk-show raconteur Larry King, she gave this response:

"A fork and this man = why the lights really went out in Georgia."

This Week's Photo

In honor of the Southwest Airlines Wii-homage commercial (which can be viewed here) and General Petraeus's appearance this week on Capitol Hill, here's my submission: "Iraq: Want to Get Away?"

As always, place your submissions in the comments section. The Caption Contest runs through Sunday (4/13).

Note: Once again, thanks to the good folks over at Deadspin for the photo.

When We Rise It's Like Strawberry Fields

Congratulations to Mr. John Middleton for correctly naming "Pride (In the Name of Love)" by U2 as the Friday Song of the Day.

If you own a fire-extinguisher shop in the Bay Area, you might be doing brisk business in the next two days.

After numerous attempts yesterday by protesters in London to disrupt the Olympic Torch relay, the eternal flame did not have an easier journey today in Paris.

What was supposed to be a majestic procession for the Olympic torch through the French capital was disrupted Monday as thousands of people from around Europe, many with Tibetan flags, massed to protest the passage of the flame, forcing police officers to bring the torch onto a bus to try to protect it and causing the torch to be extinguished at least once.

Following the events of the past two days, the torch will arrive in San Francisco on Wednesday as part of the sole American stop on the worldwide tour prior to the Beijing Games in August. Given the level of political activism in the Bay Area, it seems that the question is not if the relay will be disrupted by further protests but how the law enforcement authorities will handle such actions.
During a trip to San Francisco four years ago, I passed by City Hall during a protest rally related to the Chinese occupation of Tibet. I've never been much of betting man, but I would not be surprised in the least to see some of those participants involved in the torch relay on Wednesday but perhaps not in any kind of official capacity.

Almost four months out from the Opening Ceremonies on August 8th, world leaders are already making preliminary statements regarding possible boycotts of portions of the Games, although none have gone as far as to state they will entirely withdraw their team from the Olympics. I am of the mind that the issue of protesting the actions of the Chinese government in Tibet, Darfur, and China itself, should lie with the individual athletes.

Just as the image of Tommie Smith and John Carlos bowing their heads and raising their fists during "The Star Spangled Banner" was burned into the minds of Americans in 1968, the choice of whether to convey such a message of dissent should be placed in the hands of each Olympian in Beijing rather than subsumed under the type of blanket protest action that Jimmy Carter utilized against the U.S.S.R. in 1980 in response to the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan.

After reading David Halberstam's The Amateurs and developing some sort of understanding for the depth of disappointment that many American Olympians felt in 1980 after Carter's announcement, it seems as though it would be a colossal mistake for any world leader to completely withdraw their nation's athletes from Beijing with the aim of rebuking Chinese policy.

Early Morning, April 4, Shot Rings Out in the Memphis Sky, Free at Last, They Took Your Life

On the 40th anniversary of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s assassination, a few thoughts from around the interwebs:

• Forty years ago, American liberalism suffered a blow from which it has still not recovered. On April 4, 1968, a relatively brief but extraordinary moment of progressive reform ended, and a long period of conservative ascendancy began.The assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr. and the ensuing riots that engulfed the nation's capital and big cities across the country signaled the collapse of liberal hopes in a smoky haze of self-doubt and despair. Conservatives, on the run for much of the decade, found a broad new audience for their warnings against the disorders and disruptions bred by reform.--"When Liberalism's Moment Ended" by E.J. Dionne in the Washington Post.

• Martin Luther King Jr. at least left behind a model of how to repair the social fabric. He was scholarly, formal, assertive and meticulously self-controlled in public. If Barack Obama’s presidential campaign represents anything, it is the triumph of King’s early-60s style of activism over the angry and reckless late-60s style. King was in crisis when he was gunned down. But his inspiration is outlasting his critics.--"The View from Room 306" by David Brooks in the New York Times.

• Martin Luther King Jr. died at age 39; today, the 40th anniversary of his death, is the first time he has been gone longer than he lived.Figures such as Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton have tried to claim his place on the American stage. But at most they have achieved fame and wealth. What separated King from any would-be successor was his moral authority. He towered above the high walls of racial suspicion by speaking truth to all sides. Now comes Barack Obama, a black man and a plausible national leader, who appeals across racial lines. But to his black and white supporters, Mr. Obama increasingly represents different things.--"Obama and King" by Juan Williams in the Wall Street Journal.

• King is widely remembered as an inspirational speaker and moral leader. But John McWhorter of the Manhattan Institute concludes that his more mundane efforts may end up mattering as much: “I wish more people thought about the long, hard work he did behind the scenes on policy and negotiation.” Rows continue over the relative merits of race-blind policies and the need to level out America’s inequalities. Four decades after King’s death much remains to be done.--"A Dream Deferred?" in The Economist.

Now, I Know Times Are Changin' and the People Need Rearrangin'

Congratulations to Mr. Joey Halbert for correctly naming "Bleed American" by Jimmy Eat World as the Wednesday Song of the Day.

I realize that last Tuesday I noted I rarely use this space to solicit your support for certain causes (besides Liverpool F.C.'s), but today I am going to make another exception to that long-standing policy.

In the vein of 2001's Run from Abilene to Searcy, 2003's Bike Ride to Pepperdine #1, 2005's 60 Hours of Softball (Insanity for Humanity for the insiders among you), and 2006's Bike Ride to Pepperdine #2, the men of Gamma Sigma Phi are again pushing the limits of human endeavor with GSP Serving OIF: A world-record breaking 68-hour volleyball game to benefit the Osteogenesis Imperfecta Foundation.

I can say without a doubt that the softball game and the bike ride are two of the most enduring memories that I have from my time in GSP and at ACU. As I have had a few years to gain some sort of perspective on those events, I have come to realize what a rare opportunity it was to support great causes both years (Habitat for Humanity in the softball game and OIF on the bike ride)while also engaging in the world's (then) longest softball game and a cross-country bike ride.

If you are wondering why GSP initially chose to support OIF back in 2006, the answer can found on the following video:

Good luck to everyone playing in the game. Sanity becomes a bit difficult to maintain after about 40 hours or so. Don't fight the madness. Embrace it, my friends.

It's the Picket Line or the Parade

Congratulations to Mr. Luke Reeves as the winner of last week's Caption Contest for his submission of the following entry on the "jumping bull" picture:

[Camera man directly underneath bull with arm raised] "Ok Babe, I'm no doc but I'll give it a shot. You're gonna need to turn your head and cough."

Granted, Luke was the only person who took the time last week to enter the contest, but there is something to be said for his persistence, my friends. Shame on the rest of you.

This Week's Photo

My submission: "At long last, the true effects of sitting in front of a Lite-Brite map of the world night after night were revealed to a shocked nation."

As always, place your entries in the Comments Section. The Caption Contest runs through Sunday (4/6).

Now if you will excuse me, I'm off to Dick Cheney's "undisclosed location" to avoid spoilers related to the Liverpool-Arsenal Champions League quarterfinal match taking place at THIS.VERY.MOMENT.

I Keep Forgetting the Smell of the Warm Summer Air

As a single, male graduate of ACU in my early to mid-20's*, I found this blog post from Dr. Richard Florida**(author of The Rise of the Creative Class , The Flight of the Creative Class, and Who's Your City?) fascinating.

Which of these two decisions do you think has a bigger impact on someone's life: finding the right job, or finding the right significant other? No one's going to argue with the notion that where you live affects your employment prospects. But the place you call home has a lot to do with your chances of finding the right partner as well. Having an enticing "mating market" matters as much or more than a vibrant labor market.

It's not just that some places have more singles than others. If you're a single man or a single woman the odds of meeting that special someone vary dramatically across the country.

Taking a quick glance at that map leads me to ask some questions:

• What is happening to all of the single women in Texas?
  
• Are single women in the Dallas area pretending they're married to Tony Romo and skewing the reported data?
  
• Why do Dallas, Houston, and Austin have almost the same ratio of single men to single women as the island in Lord of the Flies?
• Are single women afraid to cross the Mississippi River or are they all flocking to New York City for their quixotic shot at becoming the next Carrie Bradshaw?***
  

*Yes, we do exist.
**That's his real name no matter how much it sound's like Michael Vick's alter ego "Ron Mexico".
***I've never seen the show. That's a promise you can take to the bank, buster.