Lucy Pevensie, age 8

Dear D.C. NBC Affiliate: What's Your Problem? →

Sure, people make fun of West Virginia. Remember that Abercrombie t-shirt, “It’s all relative in West Virginia”? Nice.

Now, a D.C. NBC affiliate has posted what must be the most assinine news story of the month: “West Virginia Discovers the Internet.” It’s got Cletus jokes, digs about in-breeding, and of course, outdoor bathroom humor.

Two questions:

1. How is this a ‘story’ at all?
2. How is this appropriate?

Our local NBC affiliate (yes, D.C., we have TV here, too) doesn’t write fake news stories about latte-swilling yuppies from Alexandria who are up to their eyeballs in debt, find stimulating conversation about luxury appliances, and are named Madison and Craig. What gives?

Social Event of the Season

Gene’s Christmas Party last night. The one night of the year where the patrons take over the taps, the bartenders chill out (or don’t show at all), and the beer is free. I think I even saw Peanut smile, God bless you, Al Bonner.

So Gene’s is wonderfully entertaining (and smoky - if you have a problem with dingy bar smell, you may want to try elsewhere) and the most welcoming, forgiving bar I’ve known. It’s also got the most diverse clientele of any bar in town. Last night, from my seat at a booth in the back, I saw school teachers, a laid-off carpenter, a vintner, professors, grad students, ne’er do wells, gardeners, and lawyers. It’s a great come as you are, whatever you are kind of place, made even more special last night because everyone was just so darn happy to see everybody else.

Last night was also the unofficial send-off for Mark Tinsley, everyone’s favorite, errant, charming, disheveled Englishman. Mark has accepted a real job in Scotland, performing research in a top-secret government laboratory. He won’t talk about it, I don’t ask.

Mark has been a Greemont resident for most of his time in Morgantown. He’s a staple at Gene’s (in a good way) and some of the best bar company I’ve ever come across. Even my mother finds him charming and she’s a touch customer. So safe travels, Mark, and god bless - don’t pull your goggles too tight and hope that groin injury doesn’t slow you down.

Our heroine, ladies and gentlemen.

He’s the King of the Gambling Machines

Went to D.J.’s last night for karaoke. The karaoke master (or whatever his title is) didn’t show because of the impending snow, so L. played pool, K. and A. talked, and I sat quietly at the bar. Had a fine time. Nice to just sit after two weeks of exam insanity.

D.J.’s is out of town, and I was the driver, so I drank a beer then stuck with club soda for the rest of the night. Between the falling snow and the state bar association’s veiled threat that one D.U.I. spells trouble (with a capital T), I figured club soda was my best bet.

So I’m sitting there when this average looking woman walks up to the bar and demands that Rocky, the bartender, validate her gambling machine ticket. She’s pissy, and Rocky is having none of it. He tells her he doesn’t have to and that she better simmer down. Crazypants starts railing on about knowing the law, and that Rocky has to pay her out tonight. She looks like a second grade teacher, yet is going toe to toe with a bartender named Rocky over her gambling machine pay-out at 12:30 AM on a Friday night. Rocky eventually cashed her out, and Crazypants returned immediately to the machine room.

It was like she was possessed, like bodysnatchers got her and ate her brain.

I don’t gamble. I have never used one of these machines. I don’t get the allure. Someone must be making money from them, and the Promise Scholarship seems like a good thing. Note, however, that 67% of Promise scholarship recipients leave W.Va. with their degrees, compared to 62% of native, 4-year degree recipients.

On the other hand, aren’t we robbing Peter to pay Paul? What’s the point of a promise scholarship if it’s funded by money mom and dad pissed away, rather than socked away for their kids’ education?

According to a report released by the Problem Gamblers Help Network of WV, our state’s gamblers are idiosyncratic. They are

• Female
• Commonly work in occupations of health care, social work, and in the gaming industry
• In debt due to their gambling.

Further, according to PGHNWV’s numbers, a majority of gamblers are fully employed, and self-report a household income greater than $50,000. Please note that these are trends among problem gamblers who call the PGHNWV for help.

This isn’t meant to be conclusive. Instead, I just want to understand one thing:

How do these gambling machines make sense for West Virginia - today and tomorrow?

My secret shame

I like Popular. I’m watching it right now. The shame, oh the shame.

3 down, 1 to go

First semester law school exams are nearly over. Just torts left for Friday, 9AM. Can’t decide what I want to do more after that exam: drink a case of beer (I’m a classy lass) or get a massage and then drink a case of beer (an oily classy lass).

Most folks have been through finals, exams, or some other ‘objective’ evaluation of one’s skills. It’s stressful, and not always for the reasons people think. Sure, there’s the mountain of material (which I’m ignoring right now, to writed this). And sure, someone with a lot of power is judging you.

But what I found most stressful was managing my reaction to the whole exam ordeal while not stepping on others’ toes. Coming out of an exam, one didn’t want to seem

• Too confident, lest you hurt someone’s feelings
• Too beat up, lest someone else think you’re throwing a pity party
• Too blase, lest someone think you don’t really care about your legal education
• Too amped up, lest someone think you’re on coke.

I know, don’t worry so much about what others think. But that’s just something husbands and high school principals tell us - we’re all worried about what others think to some degree or another.

Anyway, back to torts. 400 multi-choice questions, 3 hours. Bring it.

Hey Joel, you ever have had a pure moment? A moment of direct insight into the divine nature? Happened to me once in prison. Guess I’d been in about a month. One night I chugalugged six hits of potato home brew while watching a strobe candle. I separated, man. I drifted up, circled the pen twice.

Is Cultural Relativism At Odds With Women's Rights? →