JUSTICE BUILDING BLOG

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Saturday, May 26, 2018

MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND

It's a wet and rainy Memorial Day Weekend. 
South Florida's beaches and golf courses and outdoor malls will have to wait for another day. 

Court's are closed Monday so don't show up looking for a trial. 

Here's a couple of things to ponder:

When someone dies and we post an obituary on the blog, why do some people feel compelled to write awful things?

Ditto when someone retires. 
We would respect a negative comment if it wasn't anonymous. 
Ditto when someone runs for judge or is elected judge. 

The internet seems to be a great anonymous equalizer. It has become some sort of therapists couch where people feel free to open up and say the most awful things without fear. 

When someone gets a big case why do other lawyers snipe behind their backs? 
Why do lawyers resent the success of others? 

You know what we all need? 

More poetry in our lives. 
The writer Ray Bradbury wrote about his success as a writer and one of the things he said a successful writer needs to do is read poetry every day. 

So here is a poem. The Fisherman by W.B Yeats.  It's a bit deeper than the "there once was a man from Nantucket..." that many of our learned Judiciary's tastes run to: 


Although I can see him still—
The freckled man who goes
To a gray place on a hill
In gray Connemara clothes
At dawn to cast his flies—
It's long since I began
To call up to the eyes
This wise and simple man.
All day I'd looked in the face
What I had hoped it would be
To write for my own race
And the reality:
The living men that I hate,
The dead man that I loved,
The craven man in his seat,
The insolent unreproved—
And no knave brought to book
Who has won a drunken cheer—
The witty man and his joke
Aimed at the commonest ear,
The clever man who cries
The catch cries of the clown,
The beating down of the wise
And great Art beaten down.

Maybe a twelve-month since
Suddenly I began,
In scorn of this audience,
Imagining a man,
And his sun-freckled face
And gray Connemara cloth,
Climbing up to a place
Where stone is dark with froth,
And the down turn of his wrist
When the flies drop in the stream—
A man who does not exist,
A man who is but a dream;
And cried, “Before I am old
I shall have written him one
Poem maybe as cold
And passionate as the dawn.”

Coming Tuesday: The Bar Associations are lining up.  Letters are being sent to the Supreme Court in Tallahassee. Ask not for whom the bell tolls....it tolls for thee. 



4 comments:

Elizabeth Katzen said...

Well said. Thank you. Be well.

Anonymous said...

Bar associations are lining up against whom? Millan????? I sure hope so....he will never resign voluntarily....

Anonymous said...

The reason is simple. We train everyone that there are winners and losers in all aspects of society. He dies...so he loses, that means others win.

As for judges,every decision has a winner and loser so somebody is almost alway unhappy.

Keep in mind that the reason we kick judges when they are down is because so many of them kick us when we can’t kick back so, yes, I too, love ragging on judges in trouble. Remeber Victoria Brennan. Classic example of the worst of the worst so it sure was fun kicking her over and over.

It’s kinda like king asshole Rush Limbaugh calling addicts all kinds of names. Looks like AA/NA helped him get back on his feet but, who didn’t enjoy kicking him?

That being said, when someone is dead, that should be the exception because there are family and friends who are hurt by blog comments that are negative.

Anonymous said...

"In such ugly times, the only true protest is beauty," Phil Ochs. Thanks for reminding us we still have poetry. Who are you anyway?