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Friday Follies 2.18

The finalists for the 2010 Wacky Warning Labels award have been announced.

Offered without comment: The Minnesota Department of Human Rights says “Ladies’ Night” discriminates against men by depriving them of the right to “full and equal enjoyment” of the establishments offering them. (Obscure Store and Reading Room)

“A Dutch court has ruled that disclosing the general location of files that infringe copyright is the same thing as infringing copyright itself.”

How not to make a name for yourself in the legal profession: A Wisconsin lawyer was admitted to practice in 2006 but closed up shop in October 2008. This week the Wisconsin Supreme Court revoked his license after he was found to have committed 55 counts of professional misconduct in ten separate client matters. (Legal Profession Blog)

How not to make friends in the legal profession: An ethics complaint has been filed against a Chicago lawyer who described various competing attorneys as “a Jew who only wants to take your money,” “homosexual,” “fag,” “faggot,” “a child molester,” “idiots and morons” and having a “sexual torture chamber” in their basement

The cops caught the guy who stole my car and he is me.

An Arkansas man was arrested for murder after showing up for his first day of work at a new job wearing still bloody clothes. (Neatorama)

Teacher at Christian school fired for fornication when it turns out her child was conceived three weeks before her wedding. (Overlawyered)


…if not actually disgruntled, he was far from being gruntled.

P.G. Wodehouse, The Code of the Woosters

The puzzle of party politics

Okay, I’ve got a poli sci degree, I was a political reporter and I stay fairly up to date. But I evidently have grown or remain blindly (or perhaps happily) ignorant to much of politics.

For the first time in my 36 years as a registered voter, I voted Tuesday as a registered Republican. The reason was simple and certainly not nefarious or Machiavellian. For 24 years I’ve been lucky enough to practice law with Dave Knudson, who was seeking the Republican gubernatorial nomination. Although Dave left our firm at the end of last year to campaign full-time, he is undoubtedly one of the brightest and most astute people I’ve the pleasure to know. My personal experience working with Dave left no doubt about his ability to identify problems and find workable solutions, skills South Dakota desperately needs.

So although a lifelong registered Democrat, earlier this year I registered as a Republican to vote for him in the primary. Don’t be mistaken. Our politics are different and there are issues on which Dave and I disagree. Yet I have always known Dave to consider arguments from all sides. He investigates and considers issues before deciding. I realize many in the GOP may have considered Dave “too liberal.” Yet my still naive heart of hearts tells me we are in dire need of elected officials who base their decisions on considered evaluation, not playing to a particular constituency or the latest partisan bandwagon. Dave is one such person.

Even knowing little of state GOP politics, I figured Dennis Daugaard had the inside track. But to see the scope of his win and where Dave placed in the race seemed to prove that labels may still carry too much weight in political races. Or it could simply be that me voting for a candidate is a kiss of death. (I did not cast votes in the Congressional primary or the legislative races, only for candidates for two county offices I knew were imminently qualified for the position they were seeking — and one of them lost.)

I’ve known Scott Heidepriem longer than Dave. But despite that and the fact more of Scott’s views are probably closer to mine on many issues, I would have voted for Dave in the general election had he prevailed in the GOP primary. That’s how much respect I have for his talents and abilities. And while I don’t doubt that Dennis Daugaard is a good and qualified man, I believe the South Dakota GOP missed the boat yesterday.

There is silver lining for both me and the GOP. I am hopeful that once Dave has some deserved post-campaign R&R, I will again have the fortune of practicing law with him. And South Dakota Republicans need not worry about my name besmirching their rolls. My new change of registration goes out in today’s mail. And lest you think this was just a Democrat just having a bit of fun with the GOP, my disgust with the dominance of partisan politics in our country means I will now be a registered independent.


…there is a wide difference between the politician and the statesman. A politician … is a man who thinks of the next election; while the statesman thinks of the next generation.

James F. Clarke, “Wanted, a Statesman!”, Old and New, Vol. 2

Midweek Music Moment: A White Sport Coat and A Pink Crustacean, Jimmy Buffett

When the June 9, 1973, issue of Billboard magazine briefly reviewed Jimmy Buffett’s new release, it called it a “[g]ood soft rock collection.” Evidently, the reviewer didn’t get any clues from the album title or liner notes or pay any attention to the opening notes or other content of the album.

Okay, there might be a couple tunes on A White Sport Coat and a Pink Crustacean you might argue were “soft rock.” Yet to have that as the only description of the LP means you ignored the title’s play on the song Marty Robbins took the top of the country charts in 1957, “A White Sport Coat (and a Pink Carnation).” It means you ignored author Tom McGaune’s observation in the liner notes that the album contains “spacey up-country tunes” and that it was somewhere in “the curious hinterland where Hank Williams and Xavier Cugat meet.”

How, though, can you ignore a pedal steel guitar kicking off the album’s opening cut, “The Great Filling Station Holdup,” and that is a key element of the supporting “Coral Reefers” band? How, though, can you ignore that the bulk of the album is what would eventually come to be called the “gulf and western sound”?

The public wasn’t fooled, though. The album reached the top 50 on the country charts but never breached the top 200 pop albums. The novelty tune “Why Don’t We Get Drunk” exceeded 50,000 units in jukebox sales alone shortly after release and was still described by Billboard as a jukebox favorite more than three years later. The writer of the “blue” song, as Billboard described, was listed as “Marvin Gardens” and it parodied country love songs and the ultimate goal of many bar room encounters:

I really do appreciate the fact you’re sittin’ here
Your voice sounds so wonderful
But your face don’t look too clear
So bar maid bring a pitcher, another round o’ brew
Honey, why don’t we get drunk and screw

That song closed the first side of the LP, which, for my money, may well be the single best side of music on any Buffett album. I don’t know if I’d heard it before then but I became a huge fan of A White Sport Coat — and Buffett — in 1975. It was near or shortly after the peak of the country-rock/country trend that had burgeoned in the prior few years. Sure, “Why Don’t We Get Drunk” was a hoot but the balance of the songs on that side of the LP are well worth the time, whether the country-tinged and also humorous opening cut or the Caribbean feel of “Cuban Crime of Passion.”

Yet “Grapefruit-Juicy Fruit” was and remains my favorite cut on the LP and likely my favorite Buffett tune altogether. At just under three minutes, it is a compact love song (“You know it gets/So damn lonely/When you’re on a plane alone/And if I had the money honey/I’d strap you in beside me”) yet still imbued with Buffett’s unique humor. The quality of that first side (remember, these were the days when as long as you had to get up to flip an album over it was just as easy to grab something else) is what ranks it above the follow up LP, Living and Dying in 3/4 Time, as Buffett’s best.

Although I also enjoyed his albums over the next couple years, which, along with A White Sport Coat and Living and Dying, are the heart of what would become known as the “Key West” albums. Still, I grew a bit further away from Buffett with each ensuing album after Living and Dying and by the time “Margaritaville” and “Cheeseburger in Paradise” put Buffett in the Top 40 in 1977 and 1978, to me it was a different Jimmy Buffett.

So while I am a huge fan of Buffett’s work in the mid-70s, I am not and never have been a Parrothead. That term came about in the mid-1980s and by then it had been more than five years since I’d bought a Buffett album. To me, they were latecomers and if you asked many self-professed Parrotheads about “A White Sport Coat,” you would get little more than a blank stare. If you really want to hear Jimmy Buffett, this is the album to start with.


Drive In
Guzzle gin
Commit a little mortal sin
It’s good for the soul

“Grapefruit-Juicy Fruit,” Jimmy Buffett, A White Sport Coat and a Pink Crustacean

Musing Mondays: Location, location, location

Where is your most often used (favorite) reading spot? Do you have more than one? What makes your favorite spot just that?

All things considered, my favorite spot is probably out on the deck of our house. Now, granted, it is far from a prime (or even desirable) location in the winter. But spring, summer and fall it’s a great place to sit with the dogs, catch some rays and breezes, and read with my iPod for accompaniment. Moreover, being on the east side of the house it’s warm during the coolest part of the day and cooler during the hottest part.

Still, a guy can’t sit outside all the time even when it’s nice. So my alternate and probably most used spot, particularly given how fickle the weather can be, is one of the recliners in our front room, both of which have full spectrum reading lamps next to them. For decades, I read a lot in bed in the evening. The last number of years, though, I found myself “reading with my eyes closed” much too frequently.

Now if you really want my favorite spot, it would be in a beach lounger on the Kona Coast of Hawaii. But that’s bit far away for anything but rare use.


And yet there’s nothin’ better for your soul
Than lyin’ in the sun and listenin’ to rock ‘n roll

Title cut, Lighthouse, Sunny Days

Book Review: Wolf Among Wolves by Hans Fallada

In his Philosophical Dictionary, Voltaire distinguished between history and fable. The former, he said, is “the recital of facts represented as true” whereas fable is “the recital of facts of facts represented as fiction.” In terms of historiography, that is a fair distinction. In terms of grasping history, though, fiction may be as effective as a history book.

The recent revival of German novelist Hans Fallada’s works is a case in point. Last year, his novel about personal integrity and resistance during the Nazi regime, Every Man Dies Alone, was first published in English. Publisher Melville House has now released the first unabridged English translation of Wolf Among Wolves. While Every Man Dies Alone was based on the true story of a working class couple in Berlin who mounted their own modest campaign of resistance by dropping postcards containing anti-Nazi and anti-Hitler messages throughout the city, Wolf Among Wolves takes an even closer look at the struggle for integrity and survival amid the post-World War I economic disaster that contributed to Hitler’s rise to power.

Although first published in 1937 (with an abridged translation published in the U.S. the following year), the book is emblematic of the Neue Sachlichkeit (“New Objectivity”) movement that arose in 1920s Germany. It was a school of artistic expression that “vividly depicted and excoriated the corruption, frantic pleasure seeking and general demoralisation of Germany following its defeat in the war and the ineffectual Weimar Republic which governed until the arrival in power of the Nazi Party in 1933.” Using a highly descriptive approach tinged with reportage, Fallada looks beyond the broad causes of Germany’s economic struggles to show its impact on a wide range of the German public. His characters served in the war or come from a variety of social classes, all struggling with finding or holding on to a place in a collapsing economy in 1923. Akin to a tolling bell, from the first page Wolf Among Wolves periodically details the value of the German mark in the rampant hyperinflation of the times. (In the roughly five months covered by the book, the number of marks it took to equal a U.S. dollar increased from 414,000 to 4.2 trillion.)

The copious detail with which Fallada — the pen name of Rudolf Ditzen — creates his characters and explores the dismay and decadence of German society is established at the outset. Just under half the nearly 800-page book deals only with July 26, 1923. The day is not notable in German history. It is a simply an average day Fallada uses to portray life at the time. He builds Wolf Among Wolves around Wolfgang Pagel, a former army second lieutenant and current inveterate gambler, his live-in girlfriend Petra, and his former military comrades, Rittmeister (Captain) Joachim von Prackwitz and Oberleutnant (Senior Lieutenant) Etzel von Studmann. Numerous other characters, most family members or individuals who work at the large farming estate von Prackwitz leases from his in-laws, make up the complete cast and several occasionally disappear for large portions of the book before returning. By focusing on the details of a particular day in several lives, this portion of the book portrays the decadence and decay of German society in its most vivid detail.

Describing the area around one of Berlin’s major railway stations, Fallada writes that “to the dreariness of the facades, the evil smells, the misery of that barren stone desert, there was added a widespread shamelessness, the child of despair or indifference, lechery born of the itch to height a sense of living in a word which, in a mad rush, was carrying everyone toward an obscure fate.” Shortly thereafter, in the Friedrichstrasse section of central Berlin, von Prackwitz comes across a bazaar-like setting full of prostitutes, both female and male, war-wounded beggars and drug addicts. The description of the area of central Berlin where Pagel and Petra live also helps explain the sex trade:

It was a poor district in a starving age, and everywhere, at every hour of the day, stood women, girls, widows, miserable bodies rigged up in the most ridiculous rags, hunger and misery in their faces. To find a buyer for that miserable body was the last hope of war widows done out of their pensions; working-class women whose husbands, even the soberest and most industrious, were tricked out of their wages by every devaluation of the mark; girls, some almost children, who could no longer witness the misery of their younger brothers and sisters.

Yet even when the focus of the book — and Pagel and von Studmann — moves largely to von Prackwitz’s rural estate, the impact of the failing economy remains a core element. There is not only the economic burden imposed by the Versailles Treaty but also the French occupation of Germany’s industrial heartland, both contributing to even more political unrest and economic dislocation. When these macroeconomic factors are brought to the level of the individual it all sets the stage not only for an overarching love story but personal and political intrigue, the escape of prison inmates helping with the harvest and a failed putsch (coincidentally or not, just five weeks before the Beer Hall Putsch that led to the imprisonment during which Hitler wrote most of Mein Kampf). They also continue and bear out the theme suggested by the title — virtually every character becomes a lone wolf at times, with self-preservation often taking precedence over the overall interests of the pack that is society. Some characters eventually raise themselves up; others descend further into chaos.

The second half of the book moves more briskly, although still not at a rapid pace. Pace seems to have been a primary motivation behind the abridgment of the 1938 English translation. In an Afterword, Thorsten Carstensen, who did the additional translations with Nicholas Jacobs, observes that many of the earlier omissions involved paragraphs that did not advance the plot but delved into characters’ feelings or behavior. That could give rise to a criticism of the unabridged edition. Although the reader does not know which passages were restored, there are times the detail becomes almost too minute. Although the second half of the book does not contain as much detail, Fallada often uses foreshadowing at the end of various sections to keep the reader on task.

Unquestionably, the realistic detail of events and characters’ psyches was key to making Every Man Dies Alone and The Drinker, Fallada’s posthumously published novel about a businessman’s descent into alcoholism, exceptional works. In Wolf Among Wolves that attention helps readers better understand the realities of life in Weimar Germany, even if it doesn’t fully examine the causes. Still, even though there is benefit to reading the work as originally published, the continuing attention to seemingly minor points could perhaps dissuade modern readers from completing what is still a rewarding read, one which may take them further inside the times than a straightforward work of history.


We ought to tell that to God, but he’s got a bit fed up with his job in the last five years and he’s deaf in one ear.

Hans Fallada, Wolf Among Wolves