That Sonic Commercial:

That Sonic Commercial about the pie-flavored milkshake...where the guy is talking about how it's so good, he's going to blog about it...

That hit a little close to home.

Yikes.

That is so, so sad.

Because... I think I've had that same conversation.

And I was being serious.

::sigh::

Ray Don

Ever have one of those days where all you want to do is sit around and watch Designing Women? Especially the episodes where Alice Ghostley plays Bernice?

Me too.

In the meantime, here's the infamous (maybe only to me?) Ray Don monologue.

Ray Don: Allow me to introduce myself - Ray Don Simpson.

Julia Sugarbaker: There's no need for introductions, Ray Don, we know who you are.

Ray Don: You do?

Julia Sugarbaker: Of course. You're the guy who is always wherever women gather or try to be alone. You want to eat with us when we're dining in hotels. You want to know if the book we're reading is any good or if you can keep us company on the plane. And I want to thank you, Ray Donnnn, on behalf of all the women in the world, for your unfailing attention and concern. But read my lips and remember, as hard as it is to believe, sometimes we like talking just to each other, and sometimes we like just being alone.

Fin.

Go Hence Without Day.

So... I won two victories today. First, I was awarded attorney's fees and costs. Second, I defeated a motion for 57.105 against us for sanctions for frivolous pleadings.

That means I got to write two of my favorite lines to write. I really do enjoy writing Final Judgments.

Here they are:

"For which let execution issue forthwith," and "Plaintiff shall take naught by this action, and go hence without day."

Here's a fascinating tidbit about my second line that I just unearthed. You'll learn something.

"From Bob Nelson, Tobyhanna, PA, USA: “The last sentence of a ruling by Judge N. Sanders Sauls in Yet Another Election Trial in Florida contains the phrase go hence without day. At first, I thought it was merely a typo and should have read go hence without delay, but a search on the Web turned up 31 instances of that exact phrase, all from legal documents or minutes of legal proceedings. Where did this phrase come from, and what does it mean?”

[A] Go hence without day—henceforth you will only be allowed nights. It sounds weird and I’m not surprised you were brought up short by it. I hadn’t come across this before and the Oxford English Dictionary marks it as obsolete. It’s an Anglicisation of the Latin phrase sine die, which looks as though it might mean without day, but actually means without a day. It means that a date has not been set for resuming a hearing or calling another meeting, and it can refer either to an indefinite postponement or a permanent abandonment of proceedings. If a meeting is adjourned sine die or without day it can mean either that a date for resumption will be set later, or that you shouldn’t live in hope of another one, ever.

James E Clapp, author of the Random House Webster’s Dictionary of the Law confirmed this was the explanation and also told me that both sine die and without day are used in American legislative and judicial practice. He added: “When the regular annual or biennial session of a legislature comes to an end, it adjourns without day, meaning that in the normal course of events that’s the end of it. But if an emergency arises, the legislators might be called back into special session. On the other hand, when a case is dismissed and the defendant is told that he may go hence without day, it really means that the defendant is permanently freed—except for the possibility of a reversal on appeal”.

What has happened is that an incorrect English translation of the Latin tag has become an idiom, meaningless in itself, but well understood by all legal practitioners in the United States (as the OED says, it is obsolete in the UK).

Nothing like a good Oliver Cromwell (Lord Protector of England) quote:

From, who else? Eugene Robinson. Washington Post. Today. Portions I enjoyed, and particularly agreed with are bolded.

Former speaker Newt Gingrich suggested over the weekend that House leaders may have worried last year that if they pursued the Foley matter, they'd be "accused of gay-bashing." Clearly, in terms of his spinning skills, Gingrich has lost a step. The issue was whether a congressman was having improper communications with a child, not whether the congressman was gay; it would have been just as troubling if the e-mail had been sent to a female page. And anyway, it's a little late for the Republicans to denounce gay-bashing after raising it to an art form.

I don't know whether the Republicans will lose control of the House this fall, but I know that they deserve to. That judgment has nothing to do with party politics; there have been times when the Democrats were in control and allowed Congress to sink to a similar level of corruption. But that's surely where we are now, and since the Republicans are the ones in charge, they're the ones who deserve the blame.

We've had the Jack Abramoff scandal. We've had the Randy "Duke" Cunningham scandal. Congress -- especially the House -- has made immigrants into scapegoats. House Republicans didn't even clear their throats in objection when the White House demanded, and eventually won, the right to decide what is and isn't torture. For years now the House has legislated primarily to shovel pork, pork and more pork to the folks back home.

And now, however it happened -- either because of a deliberate political decision or because the institution is so degraded that it couldn't stir itself to action, like an overstuffed aristocrat crippled by gout -- we learn that the House has countenanced a congressman's sick advances toward teenagers.

Congressional pages tend to be idealistic, patriotic young people who wholeheartedly believe in America. Many are contemplating a career in politics, and they are thrilled to have the chance to come to the U.S. Capitol and witness the workings of our great democracy.

Those who came in contact with Mark Foley certainly got a lesson, didn't they?

Famous quotations are the last refuge of newspaper columnists and other scoundrels, so I try to avoid them, but at the moment I can't help thinking of what Oliver Cromwell said to the so-called Rump Parliament in 1653. Voters would do well to send the same message to the House of Representatives next month:

"You have sat too long here for any good you have been doing. Depart, I say, and let us have done with you. In the name of God, go!"