On Saturday morning, Neal Hannan groggily crept out of his hole of debt and clambered onto the roof deck of his overpriced condo, but failed to see his razor thin shadow. Federal Circuit forecasters think this means an early spring.
Doesn’t it feel like I just sent around a Groundhog Poker email? That was a year ago. The other day someone at Arent Fox asked me if I knew some dude that worked for my firm in the ’70s. I asked how would I possibly know him, and the guy thought maybe we overlapped. I wasn’t alive for any part of the ’70s, but this guy thought maybe I had completed college and law school and was working as a lawyer for my present firm 35 years ago. Is this what happens when you get old? You completely lose all concept of the passage of time?
I was talking to a 12-year-old whose birthday was on Groundhog Day, and she was complaining that having a birthday on Groundhog day “s.m.a.” (sucks my ass). And I said hey that’s nothing, I have a friend whose birthday is on September 11th. And she was like “so?” and I realized she didn’t appreciate the significance of that because the attacks happened before she was born. This little bitch gets her period. There are people all around us of child-bearing capacity that were born post-9/11. That doesn’t even compute to me. And suddenly I realized that I am that old guy from Arent Fox.
And I’m about to get even older. Thus I will have birthday cupcakes for everyone at poker tonight. Location is [——-], start time is 8pm, ring the doorbell and someone will let you in. Please RSVP so I know how many cupcakes to make.
And welcome to the new people on this listserve. I know it just seems like a crazy person rambling about people you don’t know, but this is actually a long-winded invitation to come play poker at my house against other (current and former) CAFC clerks for money. You should try it out sometime.