Limericks constitute a mistrial

To quote Malcolm, the balding worrywart from The Office, I’ve got bad news and irrelevant news. First, the irrelevant stuff: Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, a fave band of mine despite their negative impact on my guitars, is releasing a new album in August. This is good, because last time the band made headlines the drummer was fired and the two remaining members were straining the very definition of a “club.” Well, apparently Jago’s back and he's been reading Ginsberg in the meantime, as Howl is ready to nullify your eardrums in late summer. (If you need a crash course in B.R.M.C-ology, download “Spread Your Love,” “And I’m Aching” and “Six-Barrel Shotgun.” Plus, a new song is streaming at their web site.)

I’m particularly geeky about this album, because after a lengthy run of solid releases, the rest of the summer is looking pretty weak for good music. Sure there’s new Coldplay a-comin’, but that’s several weeks away and this incredibly underwhelming Dave Matthews album certainly hasn’t made the wait easier. (Seriously Dave, where are my polyrhythms? If I wanted 4/4 time I would replace the batteries in my metronome.)

Moving on. First year law marks get released tonight. I call this bad news because I would have enjoyed a few more weeks of not knowing my chances of fall job applications. Sure, I came out of each exam feeling somewhat contented, but with one hundred percent finals and nothing by which to gauge your progress, the fact that I didn’t spontaneously combust was enough to make me happy.

I’ve said my piece about such a marking scheme before, but for a profession built upon accumulated argumentation, it’s a little unsettling that so much can rest on one afternoon. Imagine if judges only decided cases on the strength of a closing argument. We’d probably get a lot more Johnnie Cochran-inspired rhyming couplets in the courtroom.