divine angst

It seems Rita took a more northerly turn than expected, so my hometown is not the danger I feared it would be.

That, of course, means that other towns are in danger—namely, the one my brother lives in. He’s decided to stay, but he’s prepared: boarded up and well-stocked. (And what a birthday present for him! He gains a year on Saturday, right when the storm is set to make landfall.) I guess all we can hope for is that Rita moves quickly and doesn’t dump 40-days-and-nights of rain on Houston like that one tropical storm did. Of course, the flip side of Rita moving quickly is that she’s likely to spawn a bunch of tornados. Joy!

Speaking of Allison, by the by, I’d say that Houston is at least aware of the problems such natural disasters bring and is likely more prepared than it might otherwise have been. Still, hurricanes are no fun in big cities. I’m praying that everyone who should have gotten out did and that those who are left behind are well prepared for power outages and other deprivations.

I’ve been preoccupied by Katrina today. The news coming out of southern Lousiana seems to be getting worse, but there’s no way to know the accuracy of the news given the conditions there. I hear things on my undergraduate alumni listserv that suggest things are OK or getting better and then I read CNN’s accounts of near-rioting at the Superdome. I don’t know who to believe or which news is more reliable—word of mouth or professional reporting.

What I do know is this: the federal government needs to do far more than it is. The city and the state simply cannot do any more than they already are. FEMA has shown its worthlessness in the face of hurricanes yet again (didn’t they learn after Andrew?) and people are dying. The hurricane hit four days ago, people, and I still can’t get through on a cellphone to freaking Baton Rouge (not seriously affected by the hurricane)! Meanwhile, the Speaker of the House has suggested that New Orleans might not even be worth rebuilding and, perhaps, it might be better to just bulldoze it. Sure, I guess that’s one response. Or, how about let’s do what we’ve done after every OTHER major hurricane and just house all these folks in trailer homes until the NEXT hurricane comes along and destroys all their possessions once again.

Sorry. This sort of thing gets me all hot under the collar. And knowing that I can do nothing is even harder. So I pray. Then I hope and I pray some more. And each day I wonder if we’ve seen the worst—both of the natural distaster and of the human despair and depravity.

I suppose it’s natural, as a new law student, to wonder what will happen to law students at Tulane and Loyola in New Orleans as, obviously, their schools will not be starting classes this fall. So I’m pleased to note that my law school will be offering seats to a number of visiting students this fall. (My school is not the only one. Update: definitely not the only one; this list is growing, too.)

It’s hard, I think, when the scope of destruction is so large, to know what to do. I’m glad communities are reaching out—in this case, the academic community. Of course, making a donation is always a good way to help, but it’s nice that my school can do something more concrete.

Not to be pessimistic or anything, but we should all begin to mentally prepare for the loss of New Orleans. Katrina is headed straight for the mouth of the Mississippi. New Orleans’s levees aren’t prepared to handle a storm surge above 15 to 20 feet, and Katrina will probably bring a surge of up to 28 feet. The pumps that keep water out of the basin in which New Orleans sits will not work if they are submerged under 20 feet of water.

So, New Orleans, I am afraid, is doomed. I think there are some people who would say the city could have prepared more for the “big one,” but I’m not certain there are any preparations that would keep a city that is 70% below sea level (and in some places up to 3 or 4 feet below sea level) from being destroyed by even a modest storm.

I worry, too, about the bayou communities. Many of the small towns in southern Louisiana are going to be flooded badly. There will be lives lost. But the water will recede down in the bayou. In New Orleans, it won’t have anywhere to go. It will sit inside the levees and stagnate.

For the next 24 hours, keep New Orleans in your prayers. I cringe to think that this beautiful, historic city might be decimated. I hope for some freak of nature that will push Katrina somewhere else, somewhere less populated, somewhere less vulnerable. More likely, though, we’ll be seeing New Orleans on the news a lot in the next few weeks and Katrina will probably rival Andrew for notoriety in the years to come.

I hate days like this.

London was the target of a terrorist (or a series of terrorist) attacks this morning.

I’m listening to NPR (my local station is playing the BBC instead of the usual morning music and talk show) and reading through the news and my heart is just sinking. My thoughts are with all those in London or who have loved ones in London.

And without much fanfare, the Court will be reshaped.

Please, let her replacement be a woman.

Depending on what Steve Jobs tells us at WWDC today, I may be ordering my new computer tonight.

Whee! Now THAT’s something to get excited about.

Update: Keynote starts in about 40 minutes. I’m watching this website. I figure we won’t see a PowerBook update, though there might be an iBook speed/RAM/video card bump. But what I really want to find out about is the reported Apple-Intel deal and what it will mean for the future of the Mac.

Update 2: According to MacNN’s live coverage of Steve’s keynote, OS X is moving to Intel and, what’s more, every OS X build for the last five years has been built for both a PowerPC and an Intel processor. Sheesh. But users won’t see any of this until next year.

This is all very interesting. But I will hold off on my “Wow! Steve Jobs has been working a cool 10-year plan!” reaction until I hear what he has to say about keeping the clones away. Power Computing, a Mac clone company, went out of business when Steve Jobs pulled the plug on Mac OS licensing. But if OS X is going to be ported to an x86 base, what’s to keep the hacker-builder community from building their own Macs? The only reason Macs are so stable is because of the total control Apple has on software AND hardware. That advantage goes the way of the dodo unless Apple has some clever means of preventing home builds of Macs.

Update 3: Since it appears that WWDC will not introduce any new hardware, I went ahead and ordered my new computer. A shiny, new, teensy-weensy 12″ Powerbook. It should arrive by the end of the week. I think I’ll go order the bag to go with it RIGHT NOW. Whee!!!

As seen at Volokh and L³, Deep Throat appears to have unmasked himself.

I find this VERY INTERESTING. I’ve always thought Deep Throat must have been a very interesting character, from the first time I saw “All the President’s Men” to the writing class I took where we read a great deal of the Watergate journalism.

More as this unfolds!

Update: And the Washington Post confirms it. (Registration required, unfortunately.) Although Woodward seems still a little uncertain that Felt is competent to change the terms of the secrecy agreement, he’s gone ahead and stated that these reports are true.

By the by, it you want to read the Vanity Fair article that started it all, Wonkette has it. It’s not terribly gripping stuff, but it does the trick.

The thing that really gets me is that Felt did what he did out of tremendous loyalty to the Bureau; the other thing that gets me is that he seems to have been weighed down by tremendous guilt over it for the last three decades. In the end, too, it seems money was the motive for revealing himself—not to make himself rich, but to help his family.

Hey, law students! Looking to make a pile after graduation? Not sure what legal speciality will best pad the bank account? Look no further. Brush up on Sarbox, put on your best hard-ass face, and become a compliance lawyer!

Eugene Volokh asks women who did so why they changed their names when they got married. Unfortunately, comments still aren’t open on his post, so I’ll answer here. (More discussion can be found at Prawfsblawg.)

I changed my name when I was married. It was what was expected of me *(Ed’s note: by my family, not by Mr. Angst), though I also suspect my family wouldn’t have been all that surprised if I’d kept my name.

I think there are some very good, valid reasons to keep one’s maiden name when getting married, the primary one being keeping one’s professional identity intact. If, for instance, a woman has published extensively under her maiden name, keeping that name is probably prudent for her career. But beyond that, what is the great distinction between keeping your father’s name and taking your husband’s name? If it’s important to you, don’t change your name, but be able to express why. Nothing is more irksome than a 21-year old bride saying she’s keeping her name because “it’s just so chauvanistic for any man to expect me to take his name.” That argument just doesn’t hold water with me, particularly given her name is, again, quite likely her father’s.

My eventual decision to change my name was really rooted in the institution of marriage itself. Why bother getting married? What is the purpose? Beyond the tax and legal benefits, marriage is an opportunity for two people to stand up and publicly say, “Hey, I’d like to be linked to this person forever.” I changed my name because it was another aspect of that public statement. “See,” I said, “I am linked to this person forever, and we have shared vows and rings and now we share a name. This is a sign of our union.”

I admit, I was hesitant. I like my maiden name. It’s unique. It’s not common. In this part of the country, the only people with my last name are people I am related to, and there’s something very touching about meeting someone who finds out your name and then tells you how much he enjoyed your aunt’s English class, 20 years ago, when he was in high school. Names hold a lot of connections.

But names aren’t just connections to our pasts, they shape our futures. And as a symbol, changing your name is pretty powerful, both for outsiders and for yourself. It’s a symbol of the change implicit in marriage. Yes, yes, Mr. Angst didn’t have to change his name—so what? Just because there’s not parity doesn’t mean the custom is without merit.

My Fair City just passed a smoking ban.

For weeks, I’ve been listening to these stupid radio commercials, running up to the election, implying that the smoking ban is a way for Big Government to control our lives and restrict our choices (particularly our choices in where to drink and hear live music).

And now that it’s passed, I’m sure we’ll hear lots of noise about Big Government and the Damn Red Staters controlling our lives and telling us what to do.

So isn’t it interesting that smoking bans originated because of concerns over public health? Which is a particularly Blue State issue?

I didn’t vote on this issue, primarily because we’re leaving and I don’t really think it’s right for me to vote for or against something that I will never have to live with. But if I were voting, I probably would have voted for it. I’ve been a waitress; good friends of mine have been bartenders. When I waited tables, I smoked. Many of my service industry friends smoke. And most of them get sick and tired of working an eight-hour shift in a smoky bar. I agree—it sucks, quite honestly.

This is the South, for goodness’ sake. If you can’t smoke in the bar (and you already can’t smoke in restaurants here, or bars that make more than 50% of their revenue from food sales), you can walk the heck outside. It’s not going to be snowing or icy. It might be raining, but hey, weather is weather.

Basically, I’m sick of these people who, in every other polictical situation, would be raving liberals, but in this case pull the libertarian card! Before you go mouthing off in the public arena, figure out what your actual political ideals are.

And if I hear ONE PERSON bitch about this ban being a Red State blight, I might have to go postal.

Maybe I just don’t get it, but people climbing Mount Everest have got to be the most insane people EVER.* Already this year (and the climbing season has just begun), two people have died, and major base camps have been swept away or covered by a recent avalanche. And most of the expeditions haven’t even gotten high enough up on the mountain to be in the real danger zone.

This quote from a Mt. Everest news website is just appalling to me:

Willi Prittie, senior guide for Alpine Ascents, put the avalanche into a poetic perspective: “After such an incident as yesterday, is when life feels the most precious, the most ‘alive’ if you will, and so it is. The scenery is never better, the air is never fresher, the mountains never clearer, our friends and family never dearer, and the beer never more refreshing than when we are reminded by a close call of our own mortality.”

Excuse me? Six people were injured in the event he refers to, one possibly with a broken spine. This in an area where you cannot drive out or get on an airplane; where your only options for leaving are hiking for a week or getting a helicopter to brave the altitude and winds and unpredictable weather around Everest and come pick you up.

I understand the thrill-seeking urge. I’ve gone rock climbing and rappelling, I’ve been caving, and I understand the tingle of putting yourself in danger. But to be so cavalier about it—to suggest that it is only at those risky-tingly moments that you feel most alive—well, it’s just tunnel vision! What about the tingle of childbirth or of falling in love? I guess those don’t count, not to these guys.

*I am well aware that, as high mountains go, Everest is not particularly dangerous. K2 is much more perilous. In fact, Mt. Everest is considered the cakewalk of high-risk mountaineering, especially considering the adventure companies will take just about anyone up the mountain.

Are big weddings self-indulgent?

That’s a question that’s been floating around the blogosphere lately, starting with a post by Ann Althouse, and picked up by Amber Taylor and Christine Hurt at Conglomerate.

I’ve been to 15 weddings in the last three and a half years (one of them mine) and have two weddings to attend this summer. I can honestly say I found none of them self-indulgent, at least not entirely so.

I myself had a biggish wedding. We had a seated dinner and an open bar and a big cake and champagne for everyone. My family helped pay for it. And I had an acquaintance tell me to my face that she though it was a waste of money: “If I had that kind of cash, I’d want to live in it, not throw a party!”

Could we have used that money for something else? Absolutely. Would my family have given me that money to use for something else? Not a chance. As far as my family was concerned, that money was earmarked for a party—a big, fun party where all of our relatives and friends could gather and have a good time. So that’s what we did. And I do not regret it.

Self-indulgence is a tricky thing to define. Most big, lavish weddings are the product of their social milieu. The runaway bride and her 14 bridesmaids might seem a bit over the top to people who aren’t used to that. I personally shudder to think about the logistics required to arrange a bridal party of 14 women. But it’s not really for me to say that the size of the wedding party is a clear indicator of self-indulgence! Has anyone wondered what her family said? Isn’t it likely that they were encouraging her to have everyone she wanted in the wedding party? Is it possible her family said, “Hey, we’re excited for you and think you have made a wonderful choice in this man you are going to marry, so we want you to have the biggest and best wedding we can afford!” (Isn’t it also possible that she got freaked out by all the pressure her family and social circle were putting on her and her fiance by throwing this extravaganza, and that’s why she took off? Not that she was necessarily right to do it, but it seems more logical that she’d freak out over an event she felt she had no control over rather than one that she orchestrated carefully from beginning to end. Just because she is 32 doesn’t mean her family might not still have that sort of power over her.)

Weddings are usually planned in accordance with what is acceptable, socially, for the couple. Some people have the money to afford big weddings. It’s unfair, though, to paint all big, lavish weddings as self-indulgent. Is a fancy dinner in honor of some dignitary self-indulgent? What about anniversary parties? Or holiday parties? Why shouldn’t a wedding be marked with a big, lavish party—if that’s what the bride and groom want, can afford, and what the guests will find appropriate.

I guess that last point is the key one I’m trying to make. Maybe there are some people who would never find a big, lavish wedding appropriate (and might feel put upon to be invited to one). No one should feel put upon by a wedding invitation—either by the venue, the requested attire, or the registry list. And no bride or groom should plan an event that will make their guests uncomfortable. None of the 15 weddings I’ve been to in the last three and a half years have made me feel either put upon OR uncomfortable, thank God. Some were big and lavish, some were relaxed and informal, and at least two were destination weddings, where we got the chance to take a vacation as well as participate in a very special moment for the bride and groom.

So is a big wedding intrinsically self-indugent? No. None of us can say with any certainty why any given wedding is as lavish as it is. All we can do is reflect on why we were invited and whether or not we want to attend. (And for the sake of civility, please quit proclaiming that someone’s choice of event is “tacky,” “over-the-top,” or “an onerous display of conspicuous consumption.” If you weren’t invited, you don’t know if it truly will be any of those things. If you get there and it is all of those things, by all means, disparage that event, remembering that, of course, for someone, it’s a very special day, and you might be seated right behind that person as you make that comment.)

(One final note: If you find a given wedding boring, you can blame the bride or groom or their parents or the wedding coordinator. But you might also consider this: perhaps it’s boring because it’s not the kind of party you’re really into. Or perhaps the party will be really fun but you know you won’t have a good time because you won’t know anyone except the bride and groom and you aren’t allowed to bring a guest. There are a lot of factors that will make a wedding boring for some percentage of guests. That is a fact. It is also a fact that, no matter how hard the bride/groom/wedding coordinator works to make the wedding fun, someone will not have a good time.)

The runaway bride story has dominated what has otherwise been a slow news week. That’s unfortunate, I think, because there are other things the media could be focusing on—continued violence in Iraq, the interesting things going on with the Fed and the economy, yadda yadda yadda. Instead, they’ve sunk to a new low: itemizing the runaway bride’s registry, and using it to demonize her.

Look, there are many things one could hold against this poor woman—her apparent self-absorption in thinking no one would look for her, her lying to the police about being abducted when she finally called in—but her registry is really not that extravagant.

Think about it this way—600 people were expected at this wedding. With that many guests, you run out of $15 OXO kitchen gadgets pretty quickly. A $250 KitchenAid stand mixer is standard registry fare. A $55 place setting is pretty inexpensive, as these things go.

I think CNN is trying to make a story where there isn’t one. Yes, the gifts will have to be sent back. If the wedding happens in the future, maybe they’ll get some of these things again, maybe they won’t—hey, that’s what happens when weddings are called off or postponed (two of my cousins had to send gifts back for cancelled weddings). CNN could have reported on just that aspect—the emotional and logistical aspect. Instead, they’re using the reigstry list to insinuate that the runaway bride was a materialistic bitch, and that’s unfair. She may, in fact, be a materialistic bitch, but this registry list certainly doesn’t prove it. (For instance, I don’t see a $310 place setting, as I have on other registries.)

Leave the woman alone, move on to more newsworthy stories, and stop creating controversy where there isn’t any.

Ed’s note: Though this post is not of a terribly timely nature, regarding actual media coverage, it’s still something I want to share. So don’t read this with an eye for “current events.”

I’ve been reading and participating in a thread about the sex scandal in the Catholic Church on a listserv for alumni of my alma mater. One of the things that’s really given me pause in the discussion is how many people associate sexual abuse of children or adolescents (particularly of boys) with homosexuality.

It all began with a post lauding the election of Benedict XVI, because of his adherence to orthodoxy. The post further stated that the sex-abuse scandal was the result of “moderates” in the Catholic Church convincing the church leadership that allowing homosexual priests was OK, since they’d be celibate. And what happened then? A bunch of little boys got raped!

The logical fallacy here is astonishing. Anecdotal evidence shows that the Catholic Church has had homosexual priests for centuries—men who became priests because of a strong and true vocation along with men who became priests because they didn’t know what else to do with their lives. (Note that the latter is true of heterosexual priests also—second sons in large Catholic families were often encouraged to become priests, whether they felt a true vocation or not. Also, it wasn’t uncommon for a young man to enter seminary at age 13, and never leave. How can you know your vocation before you finish high school? But I digress.)

So if homosexual priests (and priests with less-than-true calls to the vocation) have been around for so long, how can there be a connection between homosexuality and sexual abuse when we are only now seeing so many ocurrences of sexual abuse by priests?

We have to forget about homosexuality—after all, most sexual abusers of children are heterosexual. And we have to think about what’s going on in the Church that has fostered this behavior. Assuming that the sexual abuse actually increased and the scandal wasn’t solely a result of greater reporting of such instances, I can guess at some of the factors:

I feel great pity for the young men who entered the seminary for the wrong reasons and found themselves sinking—perhaps weighted down by their own proclivities and emotional weaknesses, with little support from their fellow priests or from their superiors. The culture of silence in the Church would only exacerbate the problem. I do not excuse any priest who abuses his parishoners, children or adults, but I am very saddened by a church that would see the abuse happening and cover it up—and, what’s more, fail to provide appropriate treatment for the abusers! What could have been the motivation—economics? We’ve already got too few priests, so let’s keep the bad ones around and just move them away from where they’ve already done damage. Or was there some deeper, more sinister drama going on—of the “it’s always been this way, so let’s just hide it” variety?

I didn’t intend this post to devolve into a commentary on the actual sexual abuse in the Church. Rather, I meant to pick apart the foolish arguments I’ve been reading about the abuse and its (in my mind, non-)connection to homosexuality.

For instance, someone made the connection between the average age of the victims (12) and a statistic that most homosexual men have their first sexual contact at the average of 12.7 (compared to 15 and 16 years old for heterosexual men and both homosexual and heterosexual women). If those who later identify as homosexual are having such early first sexual encounters, who is initiating this contact? Why, it must be older, predatory homosexuals! Why is there an assumption that, because a young(er) adolescent is having sex (or a sexual encounter of some kind), he must be the victim of an older man? Is it because a lot of people still have this idea that a homosexual can be “made”—early sexual contact with another male must make little boys gay?

What upsets me most is that this discussion was occuring among some very well-educated men and women, including attorneys, physicians, and other advanced degree holders. I know that education is not a proxy for tolerance, but I hoped it might be a proxy for a willingness to hold an open discussion. (And, to be fair, many of the participants in the discussion were quite open to dialog. It was the few, the profoundly intolerant, with their blanket statements and overwhelming arrogance, that got under my skin and made me so angry.)

Sexual abuse is about power, not about sex. Sexual abuse is usually situational and opportunistic, which is why most victims know their abusers. And sexual abuse in an institutional setting, without repercussion, will only feed on itself. This is the real tragedy. If the Church would stop thinking about sexual orientation and start thinking about transparency, perhaps this is conversation that wouldn’t be happening.

Today is the tenth anniversary of the bombing in Oklahoma City. I was thinking about that day, and all the other days that we remember. Isn’t it funny how people always want to know where you were and what you remember about those days?

On April 19, 1995, when word came of the explosion at the Murrah Building, I was a senior in high school, in fifth period Computer Science class, fresh from my extra-long lunch (I had a free period in the middle of the day). The announcement came over the PA system and, being students in a Catholic school, we were asked to stand, bow our heads, have a moment of silence, and say a prayer together. I believe we recited a Hail Mary, but it could have been the Lord’s Prayer—I really don’t remember that bit. I remember that it was a pretty spring day and the sun was out and that the full import of what had happened didn’t really strike me at the time. It was only later, when the papers published the images, that I realized how awful what had happened was.

But I’m glad my Catholic high school had us all say a prayer that day. As long as I can remember, tragic events that occured while I was in school were always followed by a communal prayer. It’s soothing. We didn’t just pray for national events—the Challenger explosion, Oklahoma City—we also prayed for each other. I remember my entire elementary school saying a prayer for my cousin, when she was very ill. I remember saying prayers for other students who were ill or dying, or who had lost a parent. I don’t believe that public schools should have prayer, but I hope they can continue to offer silent and thoughtful moments for tragic events.

I felt the lack of such a moment on September 11. I was all alone in my office, reading the headlines online, when the towers were hit. I wished there had been some greater communal moment, early on that Tuesday morning, something that acknowledged the shock and terror we all felt. I went to church that evening, instead, needing to fill that empty space with other people and a shared purpose.

These are the things I think about on days of remembrance. People want to know where you were and what you were doing when big events happen because those memories are part of a shared human experience. How we react and cope with horrible events helps us learn to react and cope with future events. Have a moment of silence today, if you can, in memory of Oklahoma City. Say a prayer if you pray. Be with other people. Remember with one another.

Well, that was fast.

I’m going to have to revisit my Roman numerals. All those letters after “Benedict” have me confused.

Sweet!

Just in time for me to buy my new laptop.

It’s National Poetry Month so, like other bloggers, I’m going to post a poem.

This is the only poem I’ve ever been able to memorize successfully. I don’t know why. However, today, I need some whimsy, so it seems appropriate to share.

Jabberwocky, by Lewis Carroll

‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite! The claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”

He took his vorpal sword in hand,
Longtime the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling throught the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with it’s head
He went galumphing back.

“And, hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
Oh frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
He chortled in his joy.

‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

As I read of the gravity of John Paul II’s condition, I note that nearly every article has mentioned that he’s declined to return to the hospital. That, more than anything, indicates to me that he is ready to pass. I discussed this about a week ago with a man in my choir and we both agreed that there’s a great deal of symbolic importance to John Paul II dying in the Vatican and not in an Italian hospital.

I grew up hearing stories of Vatican II and the atmosphere of hope and promise that followed it. Even though I’m too young to have seen those hopes fade—after all, John Paul II has been pope most of my life—I do know many Catholics who mourn what could have been and what wasn’t. They’re the same Catholics who fight for the ordination of women, who don’t believe a celibate priesthood is critical, who still believe strongly in the power of the Church to affect social change without withdrawing into intractable conservatism.

So I am certain a lot of those people are facing John Paul’s passing with a great deal of both hope and fear—wondering who will become the next pope, what that man will try to accomplish, and in what direction he’ll lead the Church.

I know there are many people praying for John Paul right now—for a peaceful death, for freedom from pain, for all the myriad things people pray for when someone is close to death. But I also hope those people are praying for the future of the Catholic Church. In many ways, John Paul’s death is the end of a remarkable era for the Church—an era where Communism fell but abortion was legalized in much of the world; where first-world church attendence has dramatically dropped while membership in the developing world is exploding along with increasing intolerance. So this time is a threshold time. I’ll be watching to see how the Church leadership moves forward.

CNN’s top headline right now is that Terry Schiavo has died.

I’ve tried really hard not to comment on the case or situation, firstly because I really don’t know very much about the legal history, and secondly because I don’t know that adding my two cents about the rightness or wrongness of things will really help the discussion.

I am curious, though, to see what happens next. The time constraints that have propelled the Schindlers to continue filing appeals and motions are gone. Will they now withdraw into private life or will they continue to fight the courts and their son-in-law? I think the latter is highly likely—too many groups have embraced the Schindlers as poster children for their own movements, and I suspect they still have a great deal of animosity against Michael Schiavo. So I wonder what legal step they’ll take next. I suspect we’ll continue to hear about this case over the coming weeks, at least until the next big thing happens. Now that Ms. Schiavo has died, though, I wonder how long the public will continue to show interest in the case.

I, like Anthony and Prof. Volokh, don’t know very much about and don’t really have an opinion on the Schiavo case. But I think this interview with a Catholic priest provides an interesting perspective I haven’t seen much of.

I almost forgot this was coming out!

I mean, I didn’t forget, but with my current inability to know what month it is, I didn’t realize that it would be coming out in a short two months.

Ooh, golly. I’ve seen the special trailers and the “making of” thing, and I have my hopes up. I should know better, but somehow I can’t help it. Lucas may yet redeem himself from the hell reserved for those who create patois-speaking comic relief CG characters simply because they can.

Over at Volokh, Orin Kerr muses about the Harvard B-School hack, eventually concluding that what these students did wasn’t worth the punishment they received (rescinded offers of admission).

He bases his opinions on this post by Phillip Greenspun, which compares what the the B-students did to going up a level in the directory hierarchy and, voila!, finding their information. Now, I’ve seen a few other suggestions that indicate it wasn’t quite so simple as that—but it was certainly not beyond anyone familiar with using a browser, and certainly not a true hack. Some manipulation of some values might have been required to get to the desired location, but nothing more complex than that.

So, OK, it was a fairly easy backdoor that these people took advantage of, and they were punished for it.

Now, last night on NPR, the dean of admissions at MIT, which also had some students derailed by this mess, stated that they felt this act was ethically equivalent to breaking into the physical admissions office and finding their paperwork. Well, that’s called breaking and entering, and is a crime. According to Prof. Kerr, what these kids did would not be considered a crime—they essentially just visited a live-but-unpublished webpage.

So I’d say a better analogy is that this was more like wandering down a hall where you know admissions offices are and randomly trying for unlocked doors. And when you find one, you go in and start scrounging around on desks for the file folder with your name on it. Still ethically questionable—after all, you have to know you’re not really supposed to be in there—but certainly not illegal. The door was open! You just happened to come upon it! And look—my admissions decision is sitting on that desk right there!*

I don’t know the full extend of Harvard’s punishment for their 100-something admittees, but MIT apparently will let their group of 30-something reapply next year. That actually seems quite fair to me. They made a bad decision and got caught. That’s not to say the institutions themselves aren’t overreacting just a bit, but we should consider that, just like Heidi did, the finder of the original weakness could always have alerted the company first. Instead, that person spread the word.

*I’ve heard some rumors that Georgetown law school is considering similar punishments for students who access the admitted students’ site before receiving their actual letters of admission. I think this is hooey because how can they know how long it takes to get the letter in US Mail? If you have information to the contrary, I’d love to hear it; otherwise, if you’ve seen it on the boards, I think you can discount it.