A Farewell to the Virginia Law Weekly 3Ls

Virginia Law Weekly April 15, 2020

This week we say goodbye to our beloved Law Weekly 3Ls. This is their farewell.

An absolute cutie?? Photo courtesy Lena Welch ’20.

Lena Welch ‘20
Outgoing Teen Romance Editor and New Media Editor Emeritus

What are you going to miss most about the Law School?

We all know I’ve already bragged about my friends in this publication, but I’ll miss being surrounded by my friends the most. I’m getting a taste of the separation now, and it’s pretty sad.

What’s the funniest thing that happened to you?

I was the butt of a joke in a rejected Libel sketch. That’s pretty funny. Or that Erin Seagears ’20 and I convinced Molly Cain ’20 to come to New Orleans with us. But it’s hard to come up with something funny that’s happened to me, since I am a comedian at heart. Thank you, thank you very much.

What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve done?

I embarrass myself more than most people, and I can’t share the *most* embarrassing thing, but I pretty regularly embarrass myself in the Law Weekly office. Top hits include doing the dances from High School Musical, coming up with subheads for Tweedles, and just generally sharing all of my secrets.

Where are you headed after graduation?

Disability Rights North Carolina in Raleigh, N.C., to do special education work.

What’s your walk-out song?

“I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Who Loves Me)”– ~*~Whitney~*~.

What pokemon are you and why?

Snorlax. Likes to eat and sleep and has “lax” in his name.

What’s your fondest memory in law school?

The 2018 PILA Live Auction. It was awesome to see that event come together after a lot of hard work. And I’ll never forget the bidding war on my cookies (Thanks, Professor Shin)!

Fondest Law Weekly memory?

Staying late to goss with Boss, Tuna, and Superman. Alternatively, LLMs Attend T-Pain Concert.

What was the best meal you ate in Charlottesville?

Probably the first time I ate at Bang! with Dana Raphael ’20. Pretty sure it brought tears to my eyes three times during the meal. But I also love to crush a shake from The Villa and a pretzel croissant from MarieBette.

How are you coping with your impending senility and death?

Good news is that I leaned into spinsterhood super hard my senior year of college, so I’ve been prepping for this for five years. I’ve got hobbies, and I’ve got a cat.

Words of advice for those left to mourn your absence?

Catch you on the flippity-flip.

The fantastic David Ranzini. Photo courtesy David Ranzini ’20.

David Ranzini ‘20
Dave

What are you going to miss most about the Law School?

Free Lexis points.

Where are you headed after graduation?

I have a ten-month professional Japanese-for-lawyers course lined up at the Inter-University Center in Yokohama, and then I’ll be working in the corporate department at Morrison Foerster in Tokyo.

Is cereal a soup?

Though the physical properties of cold breakfast cereal most closely resemble those of soups or gruels, Euro-American culture conventionally excludes it syntactically from “lunch” or “dinner,” making the “soup” descriptor inapt. In this essay I will…

What’s your walk-out song?

Everyone who answered this with something try-hard first had to suppress the urge to say “Sandstorm.” Let’s be honest with ourselves—is it cheesy? Yes. Is it overplayed as a walk-out song? Also yes. And yet, when all is said and done—does it not slap to an extreme degree?

What’s your fondest memory in law school?

Either Law Weekly meetings or making and eating after-study dinners with my brother Gregory (also my roommate 1L and 2L).

Fondest Law Weekly memory?

Late-night bull sessions while laying out the InDesign for the weekly editions.

What was the best meal you ate in Charlottesville?

Almost certainly the enchiladas at Continental Divide, with plenty of habanero sauce and a cold beer.

How are you coping with your impending senility and death?

Denial will never stop working!

Words of advice for those left to mourn your absence?

Take a pro bono clinic. Everything I really learned about being a lawyer I learned at LAJC.

Our beloved EIC, Eleanor Schmalzl ’20. Photo courtesy Eleanor Schmalzl.

Eleanor Schmalzl ‘20
Dethroned Newspaper Tyrant

What are you going to miss most about the Law School?

Friday softball field-hopping. I played a lot of softball in my three years at UVA Law, but wish I could’ve played more.

If you could give yourself one piece of advice coming into Law School, what would it be?

Find activities you care about and leave the ones you don’t. Wasting energy on things you don’t like really is a waste, except maybe your 1L classes. I’d use some energy on those, even the ones you don’t like.

What’s your walk-out song?

“Temperature” by Sean Paul. It is perfect for every occasion always.

What’s your fondest memory in law school?

Every year, NGSL members will play alumni who are in town for their alumni weekend right after spring finals. I had just finished my 1L spring finals and decided to stick around for the game, and it was a really special experience. Professor Hylton ’77, a founder of NGSL, had passed just a few weeks prior, so his family was at the field along with at least one other organization founder. I can’t remember his name, but he was an older gentleman who was still an absolute baller. He was placing balls in the outfield, making us young folk work to get him out. I pitched in the game, and he and I had a fun back-and-forth throughout. The weather was beautiful and everyone was just so happy to be there; it perfectly captured everything I love about UVA Law and the atmosphere that softball creates for so many. Right after the game, I drove the seven-plus hours in my cleats to get home to Kentucky and was so glad I had waited to leave so I could play.

Fondest Law Weekly memory?

Michael Schmid’s playlist.

Free Bingo Space: Write what you want:

Thankful for three years with such an amazing group of people. Wouldn’t trade this time for the world and would’ve sacrificed a lot to have these last few months back. I’m so grateful to go to a school that is so hard to leave, and that’s thanks to all the amazing people here, so just thank you to everyone who has made this experience unforgettable.

Anand Jani ‘20
New Editor, Who Dis?

What are you going to miss most about the Law School?

The custodian in the University of North Carolina sweatshirt, dude was a nice guy. Sorry that I never caught your name.

What’s the funniest thing that happened to you?

Found friends along the way.

What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve done?

Made promises I couldn’t keep.

Where are you headed after graduation?

New York City is the plan, but at this point I wouldn’t be surprised if Godzilla came out of the Hudson and destroyed whatever’s left of the place.

What’s your walk-out song?

That old dial-up modem sound.

What’s your fondest memory in law school?

That time I had to meet with Dean Davies because I put in an alcohol request to Main Grounds to “tastefully enjoy a glass of champagne in celebration of the completion of my first semester of law school,” then remembering that I was late to said meeting after drinking half a bottle with my friends in the parking lot.

Fondest Law Weekly memory?

All the times that Jansen VanderMeulen ’19 came dangerously close to putting a softball through a window or a computer in the office.

What was the best meal you ate in Charlottesville?

I had a granola bar after a hike the other day that was pretty good.

Words of advice for those left to mourn your absence?

Don’t walk through the hallway of Withers-Brown banging a soup ladle on a pot and calling out “Fresh Meat” while pointing to all of the 1Ls next year, the administration frowns on such actions.

Our Features Editor!! Going on to feature in all new adventures. Photo Credit Taylor Elicegui ’20.

Taylor Elicegui ‘20
The Feature of Our Hearts

What are you going to miss most about the Law School?

Cliche but true: the people. I’ll miss being so close to my friends and knowing exactly where to find them! There’s nothing better than rolling through ScoCo, knowing I can always find some of my Section A ladies holding down their table (@Manal, Jordin, Eleanor, Nellie, etc.). I’ll also miss learning and having my major commitments be reading!

What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve done?

I’ll confine this to most embarrassing during law school, for the sake of my personal pride. During the 1L Softball Tournament, my team made it to the finals. It was a super close and intense game against Section C. I was playing catcher, the go-to position for those who lack any actual softball ability. I tried to make a play at home and broke the cardinal rule of softball by putting my glove in front of my face. Alas, I missed, but managed to stop the ball with my nose! One trip to the ER and ENT later, and my nose was actually not broken, thanks to my sunglasses that absorbed some of the impact. And that was the end of my UVA softball career.

Where are you headed after graduation?

New York, New York.

What’s your fondest memory in law school?

Definitely Libel! I enjoyed Libel both years, but last year was the best. I loved so many of the skits and I got to be Lauren of Career Services alongside my best friend and mentor, Darcy Whelan. Lauren and Kevin got to do some matchmaking as Career Services pivoted to also provide dating services. And we got to make some digs at Omaha! What’s better than that?

Fondest Law Weekly memory?

Our end of year dinner in 2018. The whole crew went to Peter Chang’s, and we were much smaller then, so we all piled in around one table and feasted, family-style. I really liked getting to learn why others cared about the Law Weekly so much and it inspired my own love for the paper. We do important work by creating a record of the goings-on around the Law School! I also really enjoyed writing COPAs and coming up with my landmark legal doctrine: 1Ls lose.

What was the best meal you ate in Charlottesville?

My personal favorite food item in Charlottesville is, by far, the parmesan garlic fries with a side of Forty Mile Cheese from Three Notch’d.

How are you coping with your impending senility and death?

Wine, mostly, and watching old episodes of Chopped Junior while playing The Sims. How else is one supposed to cope with the end of a twenty year school career during a global pandemic?

Moonshine "Mooney" the Cat Experiences Quarantine

Virginia Law Weekly April 15, 2020

Moonshine the Cat
Guest Writer

Pictured: Author, Moonshine “Mooney” the Cat

Day 0

It is what the humans keep referring to as “Spring Break.” Only human 1 is home, and I am very lonely all day when he’s gone. I’m very happy when human 1 comes home. I hope human 2 comes back soon.

Day 3

Human 2 has come back. It is a joyous day. I hope that they never leave!

Day 4

Remember when I said I hope they never leave? They haven’t left… all I can do is pray that soon we will be back to our normal routine where I rule over the apartment all day for five days a week and get all the naps I want.

Day 5

Something has gone terribly wrong. The humans have not left the apartment. They are squatting on my domain. How can this be? Even worse, they seem to be in need of love and affection, and they turn to me for it. I am not to be loved. I am to be feared—and worshipped. I hope they start leaving me alone so that I can rule my domain soon.

Day 8

It has been several nights since I’ve had a good day’s sleep. Have these people not heard of the term “catnap?” The problem is that I have to be in the same room as the humans when they are home, yet I also want to nap in that room. You can see my predicament. This lack of day sleep is really starting to affect my nightly zoomies.

Day 12

I still can’t catnap. And they won’t let me eat my plants either. I’ve always had an array of exciting, crunchy, tasty houseplants to munch on whenever I’m bored, but the humans have decided that they love the houseplants more than they love me. How could they do this? I AM THEIR GOD. Don’t they know about the ancient Egyptians?

Day 13

The humans are trying to exercise me. I need to figure out how to tell them I am above physical exercise; I am not some fifth grader doing a fitness test for Michelle Obama.

Day 15

I’ll never get over this… I’m just so upset. Guess what they called me today? A CHONKER. I should be a heckin’ fine girl on the chonk chart! These gigantic humans who snack all day have the nerve to call me fat. I am a majestic, noble creature who deserves her meowijuana catnip treats, but they’re putting me on a diet. And even worse, they’re trying to make me exercise. (Meanwhile, they haven’t left the apartment in days!) They just ate an entire apple pie each, and yet I am the one put on a diet. This is outrageous!

Day 20

The humans must have reached peak boredom. Today they put me inside a knapsack, let me poke my head out, and took me for a walk outside. It was nice because I could really get a good look at those squirrels I always stare at, but I’ve never had my dignity insulted like this before. They continue to think I am some kind of human baby. I am worried they will force me to wear silly cat outfits to satisfy their boredom.

Day 21

The outfit happened. I will not discuss this further.

Pictured: These indignities will not stand.

Entirely Accurate World News: Coronavirus Edition

Virginia Law Weekly April 8, 2020

Will Palmer ‘21
Special Projects Editor

Namaste, my friend. It’s been some time since I was able to send a transmission. Sorry about that. Took a while to get the aerial rigged up above the bunker. All set now, though—so pull up a camp chair, crack open a tin of Spam and a room-temperature malt beverage, and settle in for an update from the Plaguelands.[1] Let’s start with…

Education

Many public high schools have set up “remote bullying” sessions so that unpopular students don’t miss out on the crucial life experience of being verbally abused by their peers. Universities and graduate schools country-wide have transitioned to online classes and ordered students to return home. Unfortunately, many of those same students stopped in Florida for Spring Break on the way back and now we’re in a version of 28 Days Later where the infected are sunburned bros in “Reagan/Bush ’84” tanks instead of angry Brits with great cardio.

The Economy

As we all know, China made a margin call and sank the stock market harder than the Lusitania. Airline investors wept openly in the streets, and major Netflix shareholders argued with their spouses about which private island to buy. A number of Americans, acting under the impression that COVID-19 causes some sort of gastric extinction event, took to hoarding toilet paper in tremendous amounts. Frantic individuals went to great lengths to obtain “plumbing supplies;” people in the author’s own neighborhood have taken to ordering electric bidets off Amazon so they can powerwash their taints free of anything even remotely resembling a microorganism.

Government Efforts - At Home and Abroad

In order to curb the spread of disease, police in India have been making use of the time-honored “carrot and stick” method, only without the carrots. Citizens outside past curfew have been aggressively pursued by moped-riding avengers wielding what can best be described as “bigass sticks,” like some sort of low-budget version of Mad Max. In Italy, local government officials have responded to the country’s health crisis by patrolling the deserted streets and verbally annihilating all who cross their paths like they’re the protagonist of Skyrim.[2]

These aren’t the only countries utilizing aggressive containment measures. North Korea shot their guy. Kim Jong-un is over there, twirling his pimp cane while he looks at us and says, “Hey, we shot our dude. What did you do? Switch to takeout? Wimps.” Then again, this is the same guy who got gout from eating too much imported cheese, so maybe we shouldn’t be using the “Kim Jong-un standard” for our health care.[3]

…which brings us to the American response. Mike Pence, in his position as Coronavirus Tsar, has been working feverishly to enact a controversial electroshock therapy program that allegedly “converts” coronavirus carriers into “practitioners of a godlier lifestyle.” Examples of other government responses to the pandemic include CIA black sites transitioning to the use of Purell instead of water for the “enhanced interrogation” of the teenaged goat herders we’ve recently abducted, and federal legislators frantically stuffing envelopes with approximately $2,000 for every American adult in an attempt to stop our complaining by giving us bidet money.

Entertainment

The next James Bond film, No Time to Die, was delayed because, as it turns out, we do have time to die before we see Daniel Craig lose yet another onscreen girlfriend (spoiler alert for a movie that hasn’t been released yet). NTTD was hardly the only production that was affected: Fast & Furious 9: This Time Vin Diesel Has a Brother had its release date pushed back a year, and a number of films, such as Frozen II, Emma, and a bunch of other sh*t I’m not going to see were released on demand instead of in theaters. Everyone in America simultaneously decided to binge-watch Tiger King, a delightfully original live-action spin-off to the animated Disney classic The Lion King.

Interestingly, not all recent cancellations have been due to coronavirus fears. Ultra, Coachella, and other popular music festivals across the nation have been canceled to combat what has been described by horrified health officials as “a syphilis outbreak of biblical proportions.” I’m not pointing any fingers, but has anyone checked on Anthony Weiner lately?

I’ll end with this—in a global pandemic scenario, it’s important to stay mentally healthy by engaging in a variety of activities and hobbies. For example, I’ve been spending my time practicing the mandolin and drawing extremely erotic cartoons of [name of major religious figure redacted, but you know who it is]. Make sure you’re staying mentally active and pursuing pastimes you find enjoyable!

Until next time – stay healthy and stay sane!

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wtp7bq@virginia.edu

[1] Specifically, Northern Virginia. Exciting, I know.

[2] Give yourself five points if you got that reference.

[3] Not going to lie, though…gout is a pretty baller disease. Like, if you’re going to get an old-timey illness, gout is the way to go. Way better than scurvy. Trust me.

Lessons from a Falling Sky

Virginia Law Weekly April 8, 2020

Kolleen Gladden ‘21
Photographer

As the COVID-19 pandemic whips its way across the globe, I find myself reminded of my own personal experiences with the uncertain and life-altering. At fifteen, a natural disaster transformed my sleepy hometown into international news, prompting a media frenzy and a visit from President Obama, forever immortalized by a photograph of the President standing next to a farmer amidst the destruction.

Pictured: President Obama stands with residents after the harrowing tornado. Photo Courtesy of the Obama White House, posted on YouTube.

Ironically, Joplin through the eyes of the world was Joplin thoroughly unrecognizable to its residents. There is no textbook for the end of the world as you know it. Nobody can pass you an outline to serve as a guide. Loss will never be convenient; grief can never be one-size-fits-all. I cannot claim to have any answers, but I do know what it is like to be confronted with an instant and permanent change of plans, to have school canceled, memorials taking its place.

It is Sunday, 5:30 p.m. on May 22, 2011. Storm sirens are blaring relentlessly from all directions. The sky is blanketed in an unusually cloudless darkness. My dad is barreling down Range Line with the barest regard for traffic laws. We pull up our driveway and bolt into the garage in tandem amidst a power outage. When the storm had subsided, we ventured back towards that same street we’d just left behind. I vividly remember seeing that the massive Sutherland’s billboard had been halved and letting out a silent gasp. We drove over the hill to a city on fire.

The tornado that tore through Joplin, Missouri that day was the worst in modern history. In the span of ten minutes, 158 people were killed, thousands were injured, and over 1,200 were missing. A town was razed to the ground; an entire region’s economy flatlined. Among the destruction was one of the area’s only two hospitals; medical personnel scrambled to accommodate the influx. With cell towers destroyed, the moments in the direct aftermath were perhaps the most horrific live demonstration of Schrödinger’s thought experiment; every person you love is both alive and dead, and you’re torn between praying for just one bar of service and wondering if it’s better not to know. As the days crawled by, one particular name among the missing that loomed in every person’s mind was Will Norton, a beloved high school senior who’d been accepted to an elite film school. He had a sizable YouTube following and an infectious personality. The powerful vortex had pulled him out of a car through the sunroof, his father shattering every bone in both arms trying to hold him in place. I had been at his house just the week before. His mom sat across from me, listlessly stirring her coffee, before looking up and saying, “He’s just so busy that we rarely get to see him these days. I am looking forward to the summer when we finally get to spend time together again.” When they finally found him nearly a week later, those words haunted my mind. His funeral was standing room only.

Pictured: The devastating aftermath. Photo Courtesy of Wikipedia.

When we are faced with unimaginable difficulty, we are given a rare opportunity for unimaginable growth. Such moments have shaped me, and I will carry the wisdoms imparted to me for as long as I breathe. Perhaps they can offer some comfort to you as well.

1. I could be great at my job and they could still replace me if needed. There will always be someone smarter, more charismatic, or more driven. My focus is squarely on the areas where I cannot be substituted. My family and friends would rather have the real Kolleen than a K 2.0 with better organizational skills and a lessened dependency on caffeine (or so they claim). Nine years ago, every person in that packed chapel left with a Will Norton-sized hole that will never be filled or replaced. Find these places where you are indispensable and prioritize them.

2. The thing you can control in life is how you react. Things can change in the blink of an eye. Coming to terms with the uncertainties of life brings a sense of peace.

3. On that same note, do not put life hold for the undetermined future. While making present sacrifices for things to come is necessary and wise, make note of the things that make life worth living and keep them in your routine.

4. Internal motivators go much further than external acclaim. When circumstance wipes away those extraneous factors, you must have a fire burning within.

5. If we are fortunate, we will live long enough to join the vulnerable population. They deserve our love and care, because one day we will deserve the love and care of our community in return.

6. Do not feel guilty for mourning the loss of life’s little pleasures. In a crisis where human life is on the line, it might seem silly to feel sad over the little things. Grief and disappointment are not finite resources. It is okay to be sad over lost ceremonies, birthday parties, coffee dates, upcoming travels, or human interactions. It shows that you are human and these things mattered to you.

7. As complex creatures, we can hold space for the tragedy of a situation while seeking out the joy. Humor is okay and good. Several weeks after the tornado, I was running with some teammates. One lamented her messy room, and a dear friend who’d lost her home retorted, “Well, my room is probably spread across three separate counties.” We had spent many moments before grieving with one another. This time, we collapsed into laughter.

8. In times like these, community is more important than ever. Joplin’s real first responders were your next-door neighbors. Folks emerged from the wreckage of their own houses and immediately went to check on one another. Churches and local businesses opened their doors to all in need. A homegrown charity I worked for went into overtime fundraising to successfully ensure that low-income families would have financial support once federal and state aid had subsided. Joplin has since rebuilt beyond what it had ever been previously, because we were looking out for one another.

9. 1 Corinthians 13:13: “And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.”

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kcg3ar@virginia.edu

The Debate Ends Here: Why Cereal is Not a Soup

Virginia Law Weekly March 25, 2020

M. Eleanor Schmalzl ‘20
Editor Emeritus

The last few weeks, members of the Law Weekly have been debating a ridiculous question: Is cereal a type of soup? I have been steadfast in saying the answer is no, but some members have refused to believe reason and logic. While our readers might not have been thinking about this absurd question, the Law Weekly is now devoting approximately 1,300 words in this week’s edition to hammer out the debate. So, if you’re tired of reading about coronavirus and falling down a hole of existential dread as you sit on your couch in your PJs for the seventh day in a row (and counting),[1] enjoy the conclusive reasoning behind the obvious answer that cereal is, in fact, not a soup.

A deep dive on the Internet reveals that this debate has been going on for quite some time and that many different sites have explored this question. People compare this to the “Is a hot dog a sandwich?” debate[2] and the pro-“cereal is a soup” folks are relentless in their ridiculous arguments. To the argument that soup is served hot, they point to the soup served cold, gazpacho, for why that can’t be the reason why cereal is not a soup. And to the argument that milk is not a broth, they point to broccoli cheddar soup—whose main “broth” ingredient is milk—for why that also can’t be the solution.[3] However, there are several reasons that, both individually and in compilation, prove all the haters wrong.

First, cereal is cereal whether or not it is served with milk. Do you know what I’m saying? Cereal in milk = cereal. Cereal not in milk = cereal. Vegetables in broth = soup. Vegetables not in broth = vegetables. I know math is hard, but it doesn’t lie. TBT to all those days of math class where, unlike law school, there was in fact a right answer. The math here shows the fundamental distinction between cereal and soup.

Second, cereal is eaten for breakfast. People who know me well know I LOVE soup (especially potato soup, the equivalent of soup heaven on earth), but even I would never be so radical as to eat soup for breakfast. “What about breakfast for dinner?” the haters start chanting. Listen, you can eat cereal at 6 p.m., no one refutes that. Potato soup at 6 a.m. though? I know you “cereal is a soup” folks have proven your unreasonableness, but let’s be above the noise and see the truth for what it is.

Third, and less convincing but still important to bring up, soups are primarily savory (check the label to see that you’re eating 47 percent of your daily serving of sodium per serving next time you whip up your favorite pre-canned cup of goodness). “But dessert soups do exist,” the haters shout. “And because dessert soups exist, cereal could be a dessert soup.” But would you eat dessert soups besides cereal for breakfast, the meal that cereal is invariably deemed to be? And do people eat cereal as their post-dinner dessert? This is madness. Stop the madness.

Fourth, soups are almost always[4] cooked or otherwise further processed beyond pouring the ingredients into the broth and dunking them with a spoon until they become saturated. Some of those among us argue cereal is also cooked because the pieces served in the box are cooked in some fashion before hitting the shelves, but this confuses the argument. It’s not about whether the individual parts of the mixture are cooked. Instead, the primary consideration here is whether the individual cereal pieces are cooked or otherwise further processed with the milk. And they aren’t. Cereal pieces are not cooked or otherwise processed with milk to create one cohesive whole, namely, soup. Look back to the math above. Cereal with milk = cereal. Cereal without milk = cereal. Cereal is not blended/cooked/combined in any such way with milk to create soup. See the light, bros. Cereal is not soup.

Fifth, one of my co-believers of the rightful fact that cereal is not soup, Leah Deskins ’21, rightfully echoes the above paragraph, saying, “[T]he relationship between the broth/cream in soup and the added ingredients and the relationship between milk and added cereal is especially important. Saying cereal in milk is soup is like saying broccoli in water is broccoli soup. Yuck. Water and milk are both single ingredients. Even tomato soup involves interactions between different ingredients, rendering it a soup.[5] It's not just water and tomatoes or something. The interactions between the ingredients in the broth/cream to make the broth/cream are important, as well as the interactions with the added ingredients (such as noodles, chicken, potatoes, etc.).”

Sixth, if you don’t believe all of this, take it from the Supreme Court that common sense rules above your belief that something “technically” belongs in a certain category. Another of my co-believers that cereal is not soup, Nate Wunderli ’22, says it best: “In 1893, the U.S. Supreme Court had to decide whether a tomato is a fruit or a vegetable. They admitted that botanically speaking, tomatoes are fruits, but nonetheless decided to classify them as a vegetable because the ‘common language of the people’ says they are vegetables. The same applies here. Cereal-is-a-soup folks can point to the elements of cereal and, in a roundabout way, somewhat rationally conclude that cereal is a soup. But this ignores the reality of the spoken word. Words have meaning, and that meaning comes about by a consensus among the population, and the consensus is that cereal is not soup. If someone said ‘I ate soup for breakfast,’ not even the cereal-is-a-soup folks would think that person meant they ate cereal for breakfast. Just because something shares common elements with a particular group or class of things, does not necessarily make it part of that group or class.”

Finally, Michael Schmid ’21, in response to calls by the pro-cereal is a soup anarchists of the Law Weekly GroupMe,[6] tried to address the question by pointing out how the definition of soup on dictionary.com (defining soup as “a liquid dish, typically made by boiling meat, fish, or vegetables, etc., in stock or water”[7]) does not include cereal. Schmid says, “Regarding the definition, I think it is less to do with excluding cereal from the definition of soup, but from recognizing that cereal has a limited definition which does not include soup. I believe cereal by its nature is grain-based (wheat, rice, oats etc.) and is derived from the ‘cereal grains.’ There aren't any soups I can think of that derive from cereal grains.” Further, his wisdom provides, “We don't necessarily need to refine our definition of ‘soup’ any further. Words inherently have social and contextual connotations that go beyond their definitions, and not every word/idea can be neatly given a label. To paraphrase Justice Stewart: ‘I shall not today attempt further to define the kinds of [food] I understand to be embraced within that shorthand description [“soup”], and perhaps I could never succeed in intelligibly doing so. But I know it when I see it, and [cereal] is not that.’”

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mes5hf@virginia.edu

[1] Which I totally and obviously am not doing…

[2] Despite the 22 hours I spend in my apartment every day, I don’t have time for proper bluebooking format so please forgive me for only giving you links: https://www.debate.org/opinions/is-breakfast-cereal-a-soup.

[3] Stan Birch I will forever like you a little less for pointing this out to me in the GroupMe.

[4] And maybe always, but law school has made it impossible for me to use “always” except when talking about how often I’m right.

[5] https://www.inspiredtaste.net/27956/easy-tomato-soup-recipe/.

[6] @Taylor Elicegui.

[7] Please, someone, tell me how one thinks this definition includes cereal in the first place.

Law Weekly Tips for Surviving Quarantine

Virginia Law Weekly March 25, 2020

Leah Deskins ‘21
Professor Liaison Editor

Here we are, almost one week into our time at the Zoom Law School at the University of Virginia School of Law at the University of Virginia. Perhaps as the novelty of Zoom has started to wear off, you’re beginning to wonder how long your toilet paper supply is actually going to last, your Weil Gotshal & Manges hand sanitizer bottle might be running low, and most importantly for the purposes of this column, you’re woefully bored and understimulated.[1]

Luckily for you, there are some ways to stave off the boredom and lack of normalcy that comes with hiding from COVID-19. I solicited hints and tips from some friends—The Law Weekly’s GroupMe and my Instagram followers—and here are my favorites:[2]

1) Go on a walk - This was the most frequent suggestion, and who’s surprised? I certainly love walks! They’re free. You can do them by yourself (but use your judgment and be safe). You can do them with your dog. You can do them with your frog/toad.[3] You get some exercise. And, you get a breath of fresh air. One Law Weekly member suggested different styles of walks...crab walking, anyone?

2) Talk to a friend or family member over the phone, Skype, FaceTime, or, dare I mention it, Zoom - Bonus points if you talk to someone who you really should talk to a little more frequently! This was another fan favorite. I’d recommend mixing up who you talk to. Maybe call or chat with different friends over the course of the week. Variety can really work wonders.

3) Listen to new music or music you haven’t heard in a long time, or if you can, play music - I’ve been going through my phone and revisiting some of my less-loved playlists.[4] If you’re a musician, try working on some fundamentals you haven’t practiced recently.

4) Try exercising with some YouTube exercise videos - I really like the Blogilates videos on YouTube (apparently there’s an app now if that’s more your style). You can focus on different muscles and do as much or as little as you want. And many exercises don’t require any weights.

5) Work on a craft or try creative writing - Knitting is popular, so is painting and/or drawing. St. Patrick’s Day is behind us, but why not try writing some limericks? If you’re looking for some creative inspiration, I’d recommend you check out some Bob Ross videos online. They’re calm and pastoral, and Bob Ross makes everything look easy. Did you know that Bob Ross had at least one pet squirrel? Now you do.

6) Reorganize your living space - There’s no time like the present to move the couch or redesign your childhood bedroom that hasn’t changed since you were fifteen...or seven. Mixing up your living space a bit can provide a helpful change of pace that can actually facilitate better learning.[5]

7) Put a puzzle together - Admittedly, this requires you to have a puzzle in your possession, but if you do, it’s a fun and mentally stimulating way to spend an afternoon.

8) Work on your to-do list - I know what you’re thinking: That’s not fun! That’s work. Ok, yes, it is probably work for most people. But it can be very rewarding to check tasks off of the list, and once you’re done, you’ll probably have accomplished quite a bit.

Pictured: “I’ve already made some progress on my to-do list. You can, too!” Photo Courtesy of Leah Deskins ‘21 — Pictured: “I’ve already made some progress on my to-do list. You can, too!”
Photo Courtesy of Leah Deskins ‘21

9) Learn a new skill or learn about a topic you wish you knew more about - Ok, maybe you won’t be able to master Aramaic during the remainder of this online semester, but there is a lot you can learn from the comfort of your living quarters. Ballroom dancing, British history during the time of Henry VIII—you name it, you can probably learn about it online.

10) Watch Netflix with friends - No, this is not your normal Netflix experience. Everyone knows watching an old or new show or movie is an option (if you have a streaming service) during these trying times. But did you know that Netflix has a streaming option that allows you to watch a movie with friends and pause the movie to chat over the platform? Apparently, it does. Watch2Gether offers a similar option for YouTube videos, or so I’m told.

Pictured: “I tried out Tip #10, but without any friends, and the movie was on Amazon Prime. So, really, I just watched a movie…by myself…alone. It’s fine.” Photo Courtesy of Leah Deskins ‘21.

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lcd4ew@virginia.edu

[1] Despite the mountain of schoolwork that seems to keep growing...

[2] These are intended to be helpful and perhaps slightly humorous suggestions. The Law Weekly realizes that not all of its readers may have access to resources that would enable them to carry out some of these suggestions. We have endeavored to suggest low- and no-cost activities, and we hope no one will feel hurt by our suggestions.

[3] Professor Coughlin, this one is for you.

[4] Pairs well with walks.

[5] I read this in a booklet about studying once. Therefore, it must be true. True story: After writing this footnote, my mom called and asked where that booklet was. ~ s p o o k y ~

Lost in the Wilderness: Notes from Social Isolation

Virginia Law Weekly March 25, 2020

Doug Graebner ‘21
Staff Editor

Day 0:

I am resolved to escape the looming plagues the way my family always has—by fleeing to the woods. Fortunately, I can obtain a camping stove and sleeping bag, and it is surprisingly not crowded. I look at a tent, although it seems expensive. Oh well, I saw Man vs. Wild and I’m pretty sure I remember how to build a shelter from that. I also run to the grocery store to pick up granola bars, which I am told you are supposed to have in the woods, and blueberries. On my way back to prepare for my voyage, I think to pick up Robinson Crusoe. Fortunately, the Defoe section of the shelf is not empty.

Day 1:

After driving as far as I can into the Park, I notice far more softball fields than woods and check directions. Correcting myself, I drive as far as I can to the nearest “national forest,” figuring it a good place to wait out the pandemic. Finally, I find a spot and park my car somewhere that seems to allow for a week’s worth of parking (at this rate, I figure, civilization will have collapsed enough that nobody will bother to put a boot on my car by the time I emerge from self-isolation). FINALLY, I begin my intrepid journey and just as quickly feel something sticky at the bottom of my backpack. It seems that dried blueberries would have been the better choice.

Fearing the smell of sweet blueberries will bring predators, I rapidly Google “Black bears in March in Virginia,” cursing myself when I see that I forgot my charger and my phone is at 20 percent. But one must go on, so I tromp off into the woods until I find, after three hours of walking and crossing an inexplicable highway, that I am suitably far from civilization and beside a stream. I mentally prepare to make camp, until I remember I do not have a tent and, contrary to my previous belief, “watching Bear Grylls” is not appropriate preparation for being in the wilderness without a tent. Fortunately, I am able to summon from summer camp[1] the recollection of how to build a lean-to, and I set one up. Unfortunately, I realize now that there are a number of things I was shockingly not told about camping, such as that I would need things like “pans” and “multiple clothes” and “things other than matches to start a fire with.” Regardless, my resolve is undeterred and I am able to settle down to my camp stove and toast some granola bars while settling down to my book. Unsettlingly, however, I seem to have picked up the wrong book and am now stuck reading A Journal of the Plague Year, which is at least less depressing than most of my casebooks.

Day 2:

I arise bright and early, feeling a tad chilly. Realizing that I am fast-eating through all 523 granola bars I brought, I consider the possibility of foraging for food. I wander through the woods, wondering if that fern with the curly top is edible before deciding not to chance it. Eventually, I find a patch of little berry-like things. Berries are edible, right?, I think. Oh well, any port in a storm. Some of the bark smells good as well. I also am worried about scurvy, so of course I remember some pine needles since I dimly recall reading about pine tea as a cure for scurvy in elementary school. Perhaps this all won’t be so bad after all.

I wander over to the river for a drink of water and wonder if perhaps there are some fish worth catching. I don’t have any hooks, so I decide to try to “noodle,” and stick my hand in the river. It is cold and after twenty minutes I see a fish swim away. As it turns out, noodling does not actually work for trout, although I do nearly catch a snapping turtle with my left finger. All is not lost, however, as I am able to turn my backpack into an ersatz net and catch a few rather nice fish and an eel. Returning to camp, I build a modest if slightly sputtery fire and attempt to try to roast my catch in the bark. Unfortunately, I set one or two fish on fire. Perhaps I am better off attempting sashimi.

Day 3:

I am cold and wet and I decide that it is time to make my way back to the car. I end up hitchhiking, because society did not collapse and my car was indeed booted and my phone is too dead for me to Uber back home.

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dg4mk@virginia.edu

[1] Joey, if you’re reading this, I hope you remember our summers at Camp Winnoska as fondly as I do. Especially all that time setting bug spray on fire.

LawHoos Take on Spring Break Across the World

Virginia Law Weekly March 18, 2020

I’ll Pick a Dive Mask over a Surgical Mask, Any Day!

Stan Birch ‘22
News Editor

My first thought as I slip below the crystal-blue water is usually one of serenity and peace; this time I thought: “I hope that turtle washed his hands for the CDC recommended twenty-second minimum.” The open bob of the ocean was a welcome break from the stress of classes, journal tryouts, and all the other activities 1Ls sign up for. In a frantic few days, two things had changed that required my immediate attention: I now had three additional days of vacation, and I was expected to move back in with my parents. Reader, I’m going to ignore the latter issue and focus on the benefits of additional days on a sunny island without a confirmed case of COVID-19, but quite a few cheap bottles of Corona with lime.

Pictured: Stan Birch ‘22, soaking in the sunshine after he swam with Dory.

In this trip below the waves I encountered several turtles, a shoal of squid, and even a few stingrays that tried to hide under the sand thirty feet below. As I skirted the sandy bottom, another aquatic predator approached, startling the stingray but intriguing me. This mid-sized nurse shark tolerated my presence and allowed me to follow behind. Freediving makes less noise to startle your aquatic neighbors, but can also bring some unwanted attention. This wouldn’t be the last time we saw each other this week.

I had fixed my GoPro[1] the next morning, so as I slipped below the water, anything novel I encountered was documented. As I started my ascent up the wall, a familiar tail flicked over the edge as my many-toothed pal waited for me above. After grabbing a deep breath of air, I rejoined my friend and our slow pursuit of each other picked right back up.[2] A few close passes of one another were enough to confirm neither of us should be afraid of the other.[3] After some time, we were both tired, and I called it a day for snorkeling. I got excited about the next morning, waddling along the beach, in a full wetsuit, with sixty-five pounds of gear perched on my back. Either it’s exciting enough or a full scuba rig feels light in comparison to Con Law and Property textbooks piled into my backpack. Again, reader, I will ignore that pessimistic latter and focus on the positive.

Now there was plenty more to my vacation than what happened in the ocean, but all of that is what I hope every student experienced over break: sleep, good food, good drink (if you participate), and time with people who make you happy. We’ve got a long road ahead of us, but if we’re all lucky, that road may just take us to the beach from time to time.

3L Spring Break Test

Lena Welch ‘20
Teen Romance Editor

This year I finally did something I’ve wanted to do at UVA Law: Alternative Spring Break (ASB). Organized by the incredible Miranda Russell ’20, PILA offers ASB to students interested in performing pro bono work over spring break. I volunteered at Southeast Louisiana Legal Services in New Orleans, but ASB wasn’t the only great thing to happen over the break.

On Saturday, March 7, after two of my best friends took me to get pretzel croissants from Petite Marie Bette and see Onward, I reported to FlyDog Yoga to teach my aerial yoga class, where I ran into Molly Cain ’20. Molly made the mistake of mentioning that Erin Seagears ’20 had tried to convince her to join us in New Orleans. Obviously, I agreed with Erin. With the idea fresh in her head and an hour and fifteen minutes to think about it, Molly came to the conclusion that she would hop in the car before sunrise Sunday for the drive down.

So, Sunday morning (and my twenty-seventh birthday, nbd) rolled around. Erin picked us up outside the Pavilion, and we went to pick up Nate Kresh ’22, who had no idea what he was in for. We hit the road after Erin shared the car rules: 1) honesty car, 2) if someone is driving, someone else has to stay awake, and 3) have fun. After a few hours of chitchat, we moved to rule three with a singalong featuring many a showtune, at which point Nate realized the drive was not going to be painless.

We stopped in Knoxville, Tennessee, for lunch. More importantly, Erin’s Prius, our chariot, suffered at the hands of the nice weather. We used Command hooks and duct tape to prop its window in place, and miraculously, it lasted for the rest of the trip.

Pictured: True teamwork. Molly Cain ‘20, props up the car window with Command Hooks while Lena Welch ‘20 clamps it into place.

After lunch, I put on a song from Hercules, and Nate started singing along. It was a big deal. Shortly after that, I played A Goofy Movie (because I always have this classic downloaded—you never know when you’ll need it). Anyway, this was a formative moment in my friendship with Nate. And I can’t quote what I said because it was weird as heck, but I’ve told approximately twenty friends from school, so find one of them and they’ll tell you.

Spending sixteen or so hours in a car may not sound like a fun way to spend your birthday, but it was an unforgettable day. It set the tone for an enjoyable trip with seriously special people, delicious food (including beignets), and exciting pro bono work. I highly recommend doing ASB, and, if possible, do a road trip with two of your best friends and the funniest person you can find.

Wait, There was a Break?

Michael Berdan ‘21
Staff Editor

During spring break, I finally watched Avengers: Infinity War. I popped some popcorn, snuggled up on the couch with my wife, turned on our big screen, and tested out our new surround sound system. Just kidding, I watched it on my phone, forty-five minutes a night, listening through one earbud, squeezed onto the edge of the bed next to my perpendicular-sleeping three-year-old son. This is how I watch most movies and shows now. So, this is how I watched as one exasperatingly stupid hero after another basically handed apocalyptic power to the villain. Right at the climax, my son silently woke up and ROARED at full voice into my ear (he’s a big Mufasa guy). I took that as a signal to go to sleep.

But at least we did get away for a few days, taking a road trip out to Virginia Beach and renting an Airbnb. Just kidding, I don’t have a summer job yet, I’m supporting a family of four on roughly zero dollars per month in income, and I really would prefer not to bring the Coronavirus home to my elderly mother, who lives downstairs. So we stayed home.

But I was healthy and I got a lot of work done! Nope, I caught some other cold virus, likely through my son’s preschool, so I used what energy I had cleaning the house, doing odd tasks, and assisting the best I could with my kids so that my wife felt at least somewhat supported. Now the kids seem to be coming down with it, sniffling throughout the house.

We’ll get through. My son just approached me with a Samoa cookie, coughed into the hand in which it was held, and handed it to me. “No thanks,” I told him. “I already had one (three).” “You have to,” he said. “It’s for you.” So I quarantined it in my stomach, and washed my hands.

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sfb9yu@virginia.edu
lw8d@virginia.edu
mwb4pk@virginia.edu

[1] I’ll take a sponsorship whenever they want to throw one my way…

[2] I posted a video of our friendship on March 16, 2020 on my Instagram: @sfbiii (shameless, I know).

[3] Please don’t be afraid of sharks. Respect them and they will respect you in turn.

Thank You, Dean Cordel Faulk!

Virginia Law Weekly March 18, 2020

As Assistant Dean Cordel Faulk departs from the Law School, we at the Law Weekly wanted to share some of the ways in which his work has touched the lives of UVA Law students. Below are a few farewells and notes of gratitude we collected from current students and alumni. Thank you, Dean Faulk, for that you’ve done, all the lives you changed, and all the good you’ll go on to do. We’ll miss you dearly.

Daniel Richardson ’18 writes:

UVA alums often find ourselves trying to explain exactly why we love this place so much. We all phrase it our own way, but it always comes back to the same thing: the people. And no person has had a greater role in finding the people who make UVA what it is today than Cordel Faulk.

It would be hard to reflect on Dean Faulk’s tenure without noting how hard he worked to make UVA a more welcoming place to those of us who may have thought of ourselves as “UVA people,” but did not see many students like us among the school’s alumni. Thanks to his efforts, a culture that for so long seemed suited to a certain kind of student grew to become more diverse and inclusive, and we are all better for it. It was a mission that Dean Faulk cared deeply about, and while I am certain he would consider it far from finished, many of us are grateful for what he was able to accomplish.

I was sad to hear that Dean Faulk will be leaving UVA, and I know it will be difficult to not wave into his office from the visitor parking lot the first time I go back to Grounds. But I take comfort in knowing that the culture he created was built to last, and that now another group of students can benefit from his leadership and his example. I hope they know how lucky they are.

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djr4md@virginia.edu

John Ghazoul ’21 writes:

Quite simply, Dean Cordel Faulk is the reason I chose to attend UVA Law over other law schools. I will never forget the day that I cold-called Cordel’s office and proceeded to speak with him for over an hour about my interest in law school. At the end of our conversation, I knew that UVA Law was the best place for me. Cordel’s ability to communicate with prospective and current students is unparalleled. Anyone who speaks with Cordel knows that he has their best interest at heart, and I sensed that in our very first telephone conversation. I have been fortunate to maintain a great friendship with Cordel; he will be sorely missed by all of us at UVA Law. The Schwarzman Scholars program is fortunate to have such a devoted and hard-working person join their organization. I know that Cordel will take that esteemed program to even greater heights.

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jag8xj@virginia.edu

Toccara Nelson ’19 writes:

I cannot summarize my friendship with Cordel into words. His shining personality is the primary reason I attended UVA Law. Usually, law school admissions interviews are awkward; they are formalized and boring. Cordel and I discussed Janet Jackson. I knew I had to attend UVA Law from there.

Cordel was one of my riders at the Law School. He’s personally looked out for me during my lowest times, and he’s been a sounding board for me during my triumphs. He is never afraid to open his office door, sit down, and talk with you about anything. He’s opened his home for BLSA, LAMBDA, and so many others as a safe refuge. Cordel does not know this, but he’s done so much for my personal development as a LGBTQ+ woman by simply providing a listening ear and a supportive heart.

UVA Law will undoubtedly miss Cordel Faulk. Cordel’s absence will be impossible to fill. I hope the school knew what they had–I know us students did.

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tmn2aa@virginia.edu

Drew Calamaro ’21 writes:

Like so many of us, I first met Dean Cordel Faulk when he interviewed me during the admissions process. Before the interview, I read his bio and quickly realized that Cordel lives and breathes the state of Virginia. This was also clear in our interview, so when I pointed out it took a full twenty minutes for him to mention Thomas Jefferson, he laughed (Virginia jokes!). His sense of humor and his passion for Virginia as a University and a state have only become more apparent as our friendship has developed, and are what enabled him to foster a law school community that is unparalleled in its collegial and inclusive environment. I can only hope that his successor will try to continue that legacy. I wish Cordel the very best as he moves farther north than he ever has before, but I am confident that someday he will be back.

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dac6jk@virginia.edu

Grace Tang ’21 writes:

I still remember the very first day of law school orientation. Sitting in excited but nervous anticipation among my classmates in the auditorium, an eleven-hour drive from home, studying for the first time in the United States. Prior to attending UVA Law, I had never set foot in Virginia, nor been away from my family for more than five weeks. I decided to attend UVA Law based on its reputation for collegiality, community, and commitment to its students.

Then, Cordel Faulk stepped up to the podium and looked over at us with pride, warmth, and welcome, and smiled from the stage. I remember feeling instant relief and belonging. Cordel spoke of working together as lawyers, working as a team in our future roles, and the importance of cultivating collaboration and support in law school. He talked about his own background, and the friends he made at UVA Law whom he relies on today. Cordel spoke of diversity, inclusion, and how UVA Law is a better place because of it. Thank you, Assistant Dean Faulk, for everything you have done for my class and the many classes of UVA Law students before me. Thank you for your dedication in finding students who are a good fit for the UVA community. We wish you all the best, and we will truly miss you.

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gt5ay@virginia.edu

Welcome to My Soapbox

Virginia Law Weekly March 4, 2020

Will Palmer ‘21
Special Projects Editor

I said that I’d write a humor piece on the SBA elections for this week, but I’m going to subvert everyone’s expectations and do neither of those things. Well, kind of. You’ll see. Just bear with me on this.

Before we get started, I should note that I don’t intend this piece to be an attack on anyone, overtly or otherwise. I’m not going to ride in on some high horse and lecture you about how to live your life. Hell, if I wrote a self-help book it would be called Bad Advice You Shouldn’t Take. I just want to put my thoughts out there, and I’m too lazy to start a blog.

Now, I don’t intend to examine the mechanics of the elections or discuss the results; rather, I aim to use them as an example of what I just now decided to call intra-institutional estrangement. (I’m not married to the term, so we can workshop it, but I think it captures the concept adequately.) The idea is, in retrospect, somewhat obvious. It’s entirely possible that everyone else has known and integrated this into their lives from a young age and that I’m just an emotionally stunted man-child. More surprising things have happened. But I digress…

I’m not going too far out on a limb when I say that I sensed a certain level of heightened ill-will in the air during the recent SBA elections. The passion and level of engagement brought about by elections and the like are certainly good things, but I’m sure that you’ve also realized that they can change our views of others in an unnecessarily negative fashion.

People with different opinions than our own are not a problem, obviously. The institutions we’re working within, in and of themselves, are not a problem. What is an issue is the way that institutional disagreements shift our views of others: In elections, for example, we’re inclined to view people who have perspectives that differ from our own in a more adversarial light. It can be far more comfortable (for me, at least) to think that someone with significantly different views on a divisive topic is just mean, or foolish, or misinformed. Attempting to objectively examine someone else’s views and reckon with them in an honest fashion is a more difficult endeavor—but it is a worthwhile one nonetheless. I’m not great at it, but what I’m saying is that I’m trying.

I’ve been attempting to think of it like this—a difference of opinions with someone doesn’t mean things have to devolve into some sort of old-school blood feud with pistols at dawn. It means we have something important in common: We care, deeply, about the same thing. At the end of the day that’s what needs to count.

Let’s not allow institutional disagreements to distance us from each other. It sounds cliché, but I honestly think that we have a great community here. The people I’ve met at the Law School have made me a less cynical human being by, if I had to guess, at least 35 percent, and I hope this article helps to pay that back, even if it’s just a little. All I want to do is encourage us to emphasize the parts of UVA that made us happy to be here in the first place. Let’s celebrate the fact that we have so many things in common that we care about and not allow our views of our friends to be altered by differences of opinion.

I’m not trying to stand on a soapbox and condescend to you, and I apologize if this whole thing came off like that. I feel like I should end on something self-deprecating to keep things light. Here are a few reasons why you should never worry about me acting patronizing toward you:

1) I still unironically enjoy the 2005 action-adventure film Sahara, starring Matthew McConaughey, Penelope Cruz, and Steve Zahn.[1]

2) When stressed, I will discuss my woes with my chinchilla, Brutus. The conversations are somewhat one-sided, but I like to think that if he talked he would have the voice of James Earl Jones.[2]

3) I haven’t worn one in a while, but I still own a non-zero number of flat-brim hats representing sports teams I’m not particularly a fan of.

Clearly, I’m not in a position to lecture anyone about much of anything, so don’t worry about that! Please do get in touch if you want to discuss Sahara, though. Great flick.

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wtp7bq@virginia.edu

[1] Wikipedia helpfully notes that Sahara is “among the biggest box-office failures of all time.”

[2] Specifically, James Earl Jones in his role as Thulsa Doom in Conan the Barbarian (1982).

Hoo's in the Hoosier State

Virginia Law Weekly March 4, 2020

Sam Pickett ‘21
Columns Editor

This past weekend, I went home to Indiana and got to meet with five admitted students. Anticipating that something interesting may happen on this journey, I volunteered to write this article. This is funny for two reasons. First, because I thought something exciting would happen in Indiana. This is not me taking a dig at Indiana, but rather me expressing a truth that I have come to know deeply in my many years living there. There is only so much time you can spend hanging out in local parks and wandering around Walmart before you conclude that the place you live is quite unremarkable.

Second, I am always excited about the idea of writing articles, but when it comes time to actually write, I always curse myself for volunteering. And yet, more and more over the last year I have continued to volunteer to write for the newspaper, even when I have absolutely no plan. So, when our wonderful EIC asked if we had any article ideas, I could have just said I will be out of town (and therefore unavailable to write). Instead, I am here in the Charlottesville airport, writing and cursing myself yet again. I’m sure I’ll be in this position again next week.

But what my journey back to Indiana really did was make me reflect on things. What things? I honestly don’t know, but I have some things I need to say about airports and Indiana and UVA and so you’ll just have to read to see the theme of this article. Thus, I have a compiled a list of… let’s call them observations, from my time “abroad.”

1) The Charlottesville airport is my mortal enemy: I knew this before this weekend because I have had two flights into Charlottesville canceled because of “fog.” While those two stories are for another time, this story is for now. For some reason, the plane meant to take me from Charlottesville to Charlotte was not on time. There were clear skies on Friday and beautiful weather and MANY of us trying to make VERY SHORT connections. The plane arrived at Charlottesville thirty minutes later than scheduled, we departed fifty minutes after we were supposed to, and I barely made my connection after sprinting—well, more like awkwardly jogging with my suitcase in hand and my backpack making me look like a turtle—through Charlotte’s airport. As I write this article, I am waiting again to fly into Charlottesville and praying my luck has changed. Though maybe I’m just deepening this curse.[1]

2) The Charlotte airport is much bigger than the map looks: I encourage you to Google what Charlotte’s airport map looks like. It looks quite small and manageable. Wrong. As I sprinted from terminal E to terminal C, what looks like a short distance, I was shook by how much I had to run. And running in the airport is my nightmare. There’s too many people and you look really awkward and it’s just miserable. Well, I did it. I ran in the airport and let me tell you, Charlotte is much bigger than it looks. Bonus observation: There are too many people in the Charlotte airport. Why were there so many people??

As referenced, Sam’s marathon from Concourse E to Concourse C. Photo Courtesy of airportshuttles.com

3) Indianapolis airport rules: Indianapolis International Airport is consistently ranked #1 in the United States, and compared to Charlottesville and Charlotte, I can see why. It’s clean, its men’s bathroom urinals have dividers, and it is efficient! There aren’t crazy long lines and there is plenty of space so you’re not always running into people or having to sit next to strangers. I hate sitting next to strangers. They also have a mechanical frozen yogurt dispenser. That was sick.

4) Admitted students are pretty cool: During my trip home, I was able to meet with five admitted students from various universities all over Indiana. They drove between one and two hours to meet with me and were very cheerful despite the fact that it was snowing outside. They had excellent questions and seemed excited about the possibility of someday joining law students like myself at bar review. After my experience with five admitted students, I am excited for Admitted Students Open House, when 200 of them will swarm our halls. Woohoo.[2]

5) Admitted students are much more successful than me: I didn’t want the conversation to go to what schools people had been admitted to, but in the way that admitted students converse, it went there. And they were schools that had not admitted me. L But I got to convince them how great school here is. J

6) How wonderful UVA really is. I tell you, when you’re chatting about the school it’s easy to sell it without even trying to sell it. And that’s how you know we have it good.

And THAT is what I thought about my weekend in Indiana.

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shp8dz@virginia.edu

[1] LITERALLY AS I WROTE THIS I SAW MY FLIGHT GET DELAYED BECAUSE THERE IS NO PLANE... It turned out to be a false alarm. I just landed and did so on time.

[2] Wahoo.

Das Klüb

Virginia Law Weekly March 4, 2020

Kolleen Gladden ‘21
Photographer

One of the things I appreciate most about Feb Club is that it runs much like a 4x4 relay, with the two strongest legs at the beginning and end, ensuring that the momentum carries on strong throughout the entire month. Lambda started by setting an incredibly high bar, and Das Klüb proved to be a solid anchor to close out the twenty-nine days of festivities. I found it highly appropriate that Das Klüb fell on a Leap Day. Your Snapchat memories from that sucker won’t show up for nearly half a decade, long past the soft statute of limitations for regrets. Go ahead, let it happen. There will be no memories lying in wait for you next year. What happens is between you, the menagerie of intoxicated guests, and the Klüb itself.

The first thing I noticed upon arrival was that, of all my storied experiences with Rapture, this was the first time I could maneuver the dance floor comfortably. The inside of the venue was a reasonable temperature rather than a scorching mass of body heat. It was noted at some point that this was likely due to the surplus of 1Ls slogging through journal tryouts this weekend. Well, sorry kids. Saturday was for the Ünderground. If you think Bluebooking is more important than shaking to syncopated beats under jarringly pulsing lights, you clearly don’t belong to the lifestyle.

The music was excellent this year, blending throwbacks like Dragostea Din Tei (the Numa Numa song) with more modern electric beats, seamlessly fused by a constant bass. I have to commend the DJ; Die Antwoord is one of my favorite musical groups and it is incredibly rare that I hear them out in the wild. I have never been to an Eastern European nightclub (although I am sure this school is teeming with people who have) so I cannot personally attest to the accuracy of the aesthetic. It doesn’t matter. Das Klüb is clearly in a league of its own.

I was told the desired look is “Eurotrash,” a term that, according to the distinguished source UrbanDictionary, is used to describe “a human sub-phylum characterized by its apparent affluence, worldliness, social affectation, and addiction to fashion.” If there’s one thing that we’re good at here at this Law School, it’s channeling a gaudy approximation of status obsession and wealth. Taking prohibitively expensive clothing items and making them look like, well, Eurotrash, is practically an art form in and of itself, and the Klüb was, without a doubt, filled with artists that night.

There were paisley shirts unbuttoned down to the navel. Sunglasses were worn throughout the already dark venue. There were Adidas tracksuits galore. There was a shakeweight, which I thought was a brilliant advancement of the athleisure trend, pushing it from “everyday activities in athletic gear” to “aggressively and edgily blurring the lines between working out and not working out.” There was even rumored to be a Michael Bloomberg 2020 tee insidiously floating around the dance floor. Efforts to confirm this were derailed, as many of the patrons had already been pressured to sign non-disclosure agreements.

There is a quote on the Das Klüb Facebook event page that reads: “DAS KLÜB makes no promises. DAS KLÜB is what we make of it.” And I think nothing could attest to the truth further. My friends and I have joked that Das Klüb is where the magic happens, and every year it becomes less of a joke and more of an ominous warning. There is no point in hiding the desires of your heart. The Klüb knows. The Klüb is there, patiently lying dormant in the months between, waiting to see if you will take your opportunity to the fullest. You walk onto the floor and let the lifestyle slowly take control. There comes a moment, where the unrelenting march of time seems to halt altogether and loses all meaning. The lights are either strobing or everyone has begun to move in stop-motion; you can’t tell which and you don’t care. The once-overpowering music becomes a distant and faint hum. A dancer is being hoisted skyward by his friends and you barely notice. That’s how you know that you’ve finally assimilated with the Klüb. You become one. What once was a discordant collection of individuals dancing has now become, simply, the Klüb. Nothing is hidden and nothing is sacred. The magic is there for the taking, and it is up to you to channel the forces that be to make it yours. Close your eyes. What is it that you want? No, what is it you really want? Do you know? The Klüb knows, and it’s there for you. It’s always there for you.

---

kcg3ar@virginia.edu

Big Dad Energy

Virginia Law Weekly February 26, 2020

Stan Birch ‘22
Staff Editor

So uh, *clears throat, adjusts belt* you kids wanna hear about Dad Klüb? That place was like a graveyard. People were dying to get in![1]

As soon as you walked in and were greeted by many of hosts a fist-bump was rejected because “it’s a handshake kinda party.” The first glimpse of the party was exactly what a Dad would hope for: It was outdoors and sufficiently cold, there was smoke pouring out of the grill, two tables of games with lots of spectators adding their two-cents, twin kegs bathed in ice just in case the freezing temperature wasn’t enough, a playlist any Dad (country, oldies, classic rock, Cali, Dead-Head, etc.) could begrudgingly head-bob to, and plenty of casual shirts tucked into casual pants held up with belts. While general trends of apparel could be agreed upon by all old-man-minded in attendance, a Western-American trend in fatherly fits emerged as a decisive point of contention: Birkenstocks and socks. I don’t know about that. Most in attendance gave some attempt to fit the theme, but there were a few that dressed like it was any other day of the week. I wasn’t mad—just disappointed.

Pictured: The only acceptable grilling attire for any aspiring dad. Photo Courtesy imgur.com

From a distance any father-figure could spot that whoever took the first round at the grill burned anything that went on. There must not have been enough people standing around him, reminding him “don’t turn the meat too often; you gotta keep in the juices.” In the middle of laughter over some classic Dad jokes, one young lady paused and pensively posed a very serious question: “Wait, aren’t some of these people … ACTUALLY Dads?” The next ten seconds was filled with very intent searching for the true Dads among us, but none were apparent.[2]

As the deck got overly-crowded to the point where pong became a contact sport, a few daring Dads sought to compete in the game of their college days: Spikeball. One armchair expert commented that while softball was great and all, “if Spikeball was this school’s game, I’d be a legend.” The game had its momentary attraction until players realized that meant moving a lot, outdoors, in the cold, without any kind of jacket on.

As the sun went down and the temperature dropped further, outdoor beer pong stopped being a game of patriarch vs. patriarch, but became a game of man vs. cold-ass Mother Nature. People moved inside to take advantage of the fire. Greeted by Bruce Springsteen on vinyl, BECAUSE THAT’S HOW IT’S MEANT TO BE HEARD, the indoor vibe was much warmer. Too warm. Someone had to be messing with the thermostat. Plenty of people attempted to coax a fire to life in the fireplace. Like anyone on the true path of the Padre, even when they had no idea what they were doing, they insisted this has worked every other of the one time they watched some guy at some place make a fire. Eventually a fire was sustained, and the colder-blooded and short-clad parentals found refuge huddled in close, like when you find the two other families you don’t hate at the PTA meeting.

Just as it felt like the party was starting to wind down and I wondered if peak-paternal had been achieved, everything kicked back off with the one thing all Dads say they don’t want and then will murder their first child to protect: a golden retriever. The goodest boy, named Kypo, was the most excited and well-mannered guest in attendance. 12/10.[3] As I wandered past the grill, the title of the Four Tops’ classic playing described exactly how I felt smelling what was cooking, “I Can’t Help Myself.” As grill-master Brian passed along a perfectly cooked bratwurst, I knew the night was complete. It was getting past my bedtime, so I called my ride and climbed in. Apparently, I had been standing by the fire for too long, because my Uber rolled down the windows and asked me if I was smoking in the car. I have no idea how late those other Dads planned on staying out, but I managed to make it home just as I was ready to hit the sack, at 7:45 p.m.

I, the author, would like to apologize to all who have read this far if any of my Dad jokes didn’t land; it may be because I don’t have any kids. I’m a faux pa.

___

sfb9yu@virginia.edu

[1] If you’re already cringing at a bad pun, I suggest you enjoy one of the many other articles contained in this edition of the Law Weekly. If you’re still with me, buckle up.

[2] Do you get it? It’s because “apparent” sounds like “a parent.” Go on, sound it out.

[3] https://twitter.com/dog_rates

Razzle Dazzle, There Goes Chief Justice Shmazzle

Virginia Law Weekly February 19, 2020

M. Eleanor Schmalzl ’20
Deposed Newspaper Tyrant
Editor-in-Chief Emeritus

February of my 1L year, Jenna Goldman ’18 published her farewell article as she finished her tenure as Editor-in-Chief of the Law Weekly. Last February, Jansen VanderMeulen ’19 did the same. At those times, I had no idea how it must have felt to pass along a job that you invested so much time, thought, and energy into. But as I write this article, the feeling is all too real.

I’m not here to exaggerate the importance of the paper––I know lots of people pick it up for the ANGs and the Professor Quotes––but I do believe that what we do really is something special. Every year the Law Weekly manages to entice a handful of first-year law students to wander to the depths of Slaughter Hall, normally in search of dinner as their weary souls trudge through the days of 1L, and somehow get them to keep coming back. Liberals, conservatives, softball players, SBA representatives, students who “only do the paper,” people from all different backgrounds come, eat pizza, and consistently put together a paper documenting what life at the Law School looks like on a weekly basis. 1Ls take hours out of their week to write articles, and checked-out upperclassmen still come back every week despite not having class on Monday (the night we produce the paper) at all. And while week-to-week it may not seem like a big deal, over time these weeks have become years, and these years of documentation are something that you just can’t create any other way. After three years of Mondays, I can’t identify a common thread between the group of people that edit this paper except that we all are there, having a good time, and producing a paper-copy time capsule of UVA Law. And that’s a really cool thing.

I feel honored to have been part of such a special group in my three years at this Law School and I am so thankful to everyone who takes an active role with the Law Weekly. To all the consistent readers, thank you for picking up our papers––you’re the reason we exist, and it wouldn’t be much fun to publish if people didn’t bother to peruse our pages and get in on all the jokes we sprinkle in throughout every week. And to the professors who put up with us quoting (and, let’s be real, likely sometimes misquoting) them on a weekly basis, thank you for going along with the fun and giving us such good material to work with.[1] Finally, thanks to all the editors who come every week to SL 279. From the 1Ls who I was a PA for and encouraged[2] to attend, to the 2Ls and 3Ls who made me feel so welcome when I was a 1L, to the new crop of 1Ls who show up every week, you all are nothing short of incredible. It may not always feel like we’re writing about the most hard-hitting topics,[3] but every week I think we manage to engage people, make them laugh,[4] and contribute to making this school more than just a place to study. I hope others get half the joy out of reading this thing as we do making it every week, and I can’t wait to see where the new board takes the paper next.

My charge as I finish my tenure is the same as the charge I had the first week of the school year: No matter what you do at this Law School, do something. Despite how busy class and studying get, you are missing out on so much more if you don’t dive into all that this place has to offer. Most of my best memories from this school come from late Monday nights, hours on the softball field, and time hanging out with 1Ls I mentor.[5] The Law Weekly is a special organization, and I (in my biased opinion) think it is one of the best groups at this school. But find your fit, whether Law Weekly or otherwise, and lean into it––the paper can’t wait to document all that’s to come.

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mes5hf@virginia.edu

[1] We know some of you do it just to humor us, and we eat it up. @Professor Doran and @Professor Mitchell, please join your faculty peers!

[2] Read: arguably forced.

[3] See https://www.lawweekly.org/features/2020/2/12/tweedledee-and-tweedledum-high-school-musical from our February 12, 2020 edition.

[4] Even if it is just ourselves, see all the titles this year that end with “The results will literally shock you!”

[5] And, of course, every class and interaction I ever had with Michael Collins, but that doesn’t fit the theme of “out of class memories/don’t be a gunner” so I am dropping it in a footnote.

Malpractice in the Making: JD/MD Mixer

Virginia Law Weekly February 19, 2020

Jacob Jones ‘21
Features Editor

In the darkness of a cold February night, law students seeking refuge from the Hallmark tirade of Valentine’s Day reminders found some (but not much) in the warm glow of a packed downtown bar. Around 10 p.m., the lonely heartthrobs of UVA’s most prestigious graduate schools[1] trickled like an intravenous drip into the Fitzroy, a bar of classy standards. On a Feb Club weekend featuring two big events, it was the “business in the front” part of the Law School weekend mullet.[2] The Health Law Association’s Safe Sex Med School Mixer provided a thoroughly strange opportunity for everyone to enjoy slightly discounted beer and tonics at the Fitzroy, all in the presence of drunk classmates, strangers, and a pile of condoms that was awkwardly sitting at the end of the bar.

The description for this event was “[b]ecause half of y’all went to abstinence-only boarding schools in Connecticut.”[3] This is probably fair, but I didn’t get a whole lot of learning at this particular event. So, I shall continue on the path of abstinence. Perhaps they should’ve done the banana demonstration from middle school health class.

The night proved that, for the most part, law students avoid talking to non-law students, even at an event branded as a “mixer,” and revealed that we’re not yet scared enough of coronavirus to make any attempt to avoid ridiculously crowded spaces. It was very packed. I thought about asking a med student about the transmission of diseases in such a cramped room, but that would have required (1) standing up from my cozy table in the corner and (2) talking to someone who was not a law student. Astute readers of my Law Weekly articles[4] will remember that the last time I wrote about law students and med students mixing, harsh words were traded, with me calling a med student Dr. Pepper and him calling me Suits.[5] Perhaps the reason that many law students decided not to talk to the med students was our bitterness about their constant presence in the law library. Although med students are at least slightly better than undergrads, we like to practice continual and unabating exclusion here on North Grounds.

My favorite part of the night was the pile of free smartie necklaces next to the condoms (no one else was brave enough to go near the condoms, at least not while I was watching). Eating a smartie necklace is one of the least sexy things anyone can do, since it requires crunching into multiple smarties at once to get them off the string, then sucking the remnants off the soggy elastic. This might explain why none of the med students seemed interesting in mixing with me. As an adult, you really start viewing candy necklaces differently: instead of a fun new way to eat candy, it makes you feel like you’re both a child (in a bad way) and like you’re wearing one of those necklaces that people who think they look like surfers wear.

Try as we might to escape Valentine’s Day, law students couldn’t fully get away from awkward reminders of their single-ness. For example, the Fitzroy rebranded their signature tonic drinks as “love tonics.” Some law students refused to order them because they did not want to say those two words in sequence. Who can blame them? But, the tonics themselves were quite good, even if they were sickeningly sweet.

Truth be told, the turn-out that night was impressive: because of the combined effects of the evening’s basketball game and the many couples Ubering to their dates (Valentine’s Day is always better with a healthy helping of liquor), some attendees of the Safe Sex Mixer reported seeing Lyft and Uber prices rise to $50 for a simple ride out from North Grounds to the Downtown Mall. That price was unacceptable. Many Law School adventurers decided to appoint a designated driver to chauffeur them to the event and recognized the virtue of not needing to pay for an Uber and instead relying on someone else. Others were even cooler and took the bus. In the end, I think going to a bar is an appropriate event for singles to go to on Valentine’s. As a doctor might say, you can treat outside boo-boos with alcohol, so maybe inside boo-boos can benefit from alcohol as well.

___
jmj3vq@virginia.edu

[1] Sorry Darden, sort of.

[2] The Libel event on Saturday night being the party in the back.

[3] Is there another kind of boarding school?

[4] Shoutout to my mom. This is also a great time to mention our website, www.lawweekly.org, which is a great place for you to keep up with the paper after you graduate. Again, that’s www.lawweekly.org. Or you can live in the 21st century and just Google “uva law weekly”.

[5] Suits isn’t even hurtful, have you seen Meghan Markle?

A Valentine's Day Pick Me Up

Virginia Law Weekly February 19, 2020

Stan Birch ‘22
News Editor

FedSoc is Red[1]

ACS is Blue[2]

ANG was alone on Valentine’s

So, this poem’s for you

“A Law Student’s love

For the law is Supreme”

Is the lie we all tell

To make interviews dream

Virginia is for Lovers

Is a lofty goal

When readings and assignments

Pulls time like a black hole

Hitting the books

Instead of hitting the gym

ANG keeps on wondering

How these 1Ls stay slim

These books are so heavy

My back is getting a hunch

ANG doesn’t have anyone

To take to a boozy brunch

As temperatures drop

With a wintry outlook

LawHoos’ hearts turn the color

Of the hated Bluebook

As it gets cold and we

All look for our cuffs

The most important question

Is, do they have Disney +?

A 1L’s first crush

Might be someone attractive

But ANG knows a hottie

Keeps their Quimby account active

The new-found fling

Goes out for a cute Valentine’s

But the lasting romances

Share their elective outlines

A Med school mixer

Seemed just the place

To meet a non-JURIS doctor

Who had George Clooney’s face

At the end of the night

ANG was left without a rose

Because ANG didn’t do Moot

And doesn’t know how to close

Single’s Awareness Day

Has come to pass

So ANG is back to reading

Dreading the Monday morning class

As this Hallmark day passes

No matter how you’re feeling

Just remember

UVA Law found you appealing

___
sfb9yu@virginia.edu

[1] FedSoc is a non-partisan organization.

[2] ACS is a nonpartisan organization.

To Journal Tryout or Not to Journal Tryout?

Virginia Law Weekly February 12, 2020

Kolleen Gladden ‘21
Photographer

Pro Journal Tryout

The journal tryout is perhaps the most important, life-altering process you can undergo as a student at UVA Law. It is, without a doubt, an absolute necessity. I’m sorry, did you say that you don’t intend to be an appellate clerk? Move on, this is not the article for you. Oh, you want to do public service? Go forth, live your life of journal-free luxury. This is not about you. I’m talking strictly to the private sector folks. You see, the reason to jump through the hoops of landing a journal has little to do with prestige and even less to do with relevant experience. You should join a journal because it offers the closest insight you’ll get in Law School on what it’s like to work for a firm. Those three grueling days spent trying out for journals offer the tiniest glimpse into the next two years of your life spent doing doc review. Picking a journal is much like picking a firm, attempting to discern the right choice for you based on the vague promises of snacks, the possibility of prestige, a collegial vibe, and relevant experience to be gained. You then get to spend the remainder of your time doing thankless work under superiors with a modicum more experience than you under vague instruction and strict deadlines. The shimmery snacks dull in their sparkle under the weight of impossibly elusive sources. Your eyes glaze over as you highlight quotes, proving they in fact exist. Welcome to the real world, kiddo. Or at least, as close as you’ll get to it in this institution. So go ahead, join a journal, and let yourself be immersed in the work; soon you’ll be remembering the most anguished moments as “the good ol’ days.”

Corey Parker ‘20
Guest Writer

Con Journal Tryout

“You must try out for a journal.” “To get a job, you have to be on a journal.” “Everyone has to do the journal tryout.” Does this sound familiar? It is what 1Ls at UVA Law hear from their peer advisors, classmates, and professors every spring. At first, I believed the hype. I had no interest in being on a journal and felt overwhelmed by the tryout process, but I thought I had no choice.

I went to an informational meeting held by the Law Review Managing Board. I starting planning how I would get my other work done that was due the weekend after the tryout. Then the week of tryouts, I remembered a short conversation that I had with two 2Ls very early in the fall semester. I really admired these two and one was even on the Managing Board of Law Review. They quietly whispered to me, “You know, you don’t have to be on a journal.” One of them said that being on a journal was her biggest regret in law school.

As I prepared to study my Bluebook and color code it with hundreds of little sticky tabs, I thought about that advice. And I decided I wasn’t going to do it. When one of my PAs organized a small section gathering in ScoCo to talk about tryouts, I walked up and told her that I was out. She was appalled and told me that I was making a huge mistake. I immediately went to the Career Center and walked into my advisor’s office, without an invitation. “Can I still get a job without a journal on my resume?” My career advisor slowly got up, shut the door to the office and told me that, yes, without a doubt I could still get a job. In fact, not only could I get a job, but I could get the job of my dreams.

That weekend, while my classmates slogged their way through journal tryouts, I read for class. I worked on a midterm that was due the following week. And I slept.

To be clear, this decision was not about laziness. It was not about wanting to avoid extra work. My decision was based on not believing that checking the citations on someone else’s writing was going to make me a good lawyer. It was also based on a belief that we should choose our own path. Instead of joining a journal, I worked as a Legal Writing Fellow. Through that role, my legal writing improved tremendously, which is something that will make me a better lawyer. That role also created the opportunity to meet and work with 1Ls whom I might not otherwise know, some of whom are now close friends.

I get it. Some of you want to clerk. If so, I am guessing you should probably try out for a journal. Some of you want to go to a top tier firm. Maybe you should also try out for a journal. But the point is, before you work very hard on a journal tryout, only to be “rewarded” with more work, it is okay to question the process. Ask yourself if there are other ways that you can develop the skills to be a good lawyer. More importantly, ask your career advisor whether your job market absolutely requires a journal. You might be surprised by the answer . . . I was. But I did get the job of my dreams and will be a public defender in Colorado later this year.

___

kcg3ar@virginia.edu
cmp9rc@virginia.edu

Law School & Darden Tourney Recap

Virginia Law Weekly February 12, 2020

Will McDermott ‘22
Staff Editor

The JD/MBAs held their Feb Club event this past Friday at Trinity, and surprise, surprise, it was a beer pong tournament. This was a good opportunity for many of us to finally see eye-to-eye with our North Grounds neighbors (pun intended).

The event was a hit with a whopping sixty-four teams signed up. The event was such a hit that there was a waitlist with four teams on reserve in the event that people didn’t show. Big shoutout to Ethan Silverman, JD/MBA ’21 for putting everything together.

“I’m just thrilled that so many good people from each of Darden and Law came together for the evening with something in common to bond over. Also, it is so perfect that we had in the Final Four one 1L, 2L, 3L, and Darden team to represent our North Grounds community. Can’t wait for next year!”

We crowned the team “Live, Laugh, Love” as champions. Congrats to Drew Calamaro ’21 and Zach Turk ’21, beautiful team name and impressive performance. We owe our finalists Beernie kegStanders [J. Carr Gamble ’22 and Tallulah Tepper ’22] a congratulations as well; they fought a hard journey to the finals but ultimately ended up falling short.

“Our closest game was in the opening round against Saucy and Notorious [Davin Laskin ’22 and Will McDermott (me) ’22]; the two came out strong. After that first game we got in the groove and knew nothing could stop us.” Calamaro said after the event.

Trinity was a great venue, even with the 150+ in attendance there was just enough room for the two schools to mingle without having to physically touch each other. My only regret was being one of the first teams to play. We weren’t going to beat Live, Laugh, Love anyway, but another twenty minutes of entertaining the fantasy would have been nice at least.

The team names obviously did not disappoint. Some interesting ones: Two Guys, Six Cups; Two Guys, Ten Cups;Size Matters; ~Lean and Tight 2020~; Brown v. Board of Intoxication; Learned Handz; ModeloVirus; and The Beerie Doctrine.

Overall, the event was a huge success. It was a great way to take it easy the day before the Barrister’s Ball. We’re definitely looking forward to keeping the championship trophy at the Law School next year. But we should watch out, I’d bet Darden will be working hard this offseason, Lord knows they have nothing better to do. To those who wish they performed better––hit the gym, watch game film, and work on your technique. We’ll see you next year.

___
wpm7ym@virginia.edu

Welcome Back from SBA President

Virginia Law Weekly January 29, 2020

Jasmine Lee ‘20
Guest Writer

Welcome back to a new year and a new semester! I hope you all had relaxing and fun winter breaks. I speak for all of SBA when I say that we are really excited for the events and programming we have in store for you all this semester. Just this week we are having the first of what we hope becomes an annual tradition, Coffee with the Dean. This is an informal opportunity for students to talk with Dean Goluboff about the Law School community. A goal of mine during my time as SBA President has always been to foster a UVA Law community that is both transparent and inclusive to all members of the student body. I believe that more opportunities for us to come together, especially with members of the administration, can help facilitate that type of environment.

As the semester progresses, SBA will be looking to organize more events for the Law School community. SBA Socials and Barristers (tickets on sale this week!) are traditional favorites that bring us together. As you get excited for events like those, be on the lookout for new events from SBA. We are always looking for new ways to enhance the student experience. If you have an idea, please feel free to reach out to me or another member of SBA!

In a few weeks, we will have elections to announce the new SBA board. In my remaining time as President, I hope to continue to get to know as many of you as I can. I will be holding weekly office hours in the SBA Office from 12:30-1:30 P.M. Please stop by to chat or ask questions! I’m also especially happy to talk with anyone who is interested in getting more involved in SBA.

I hope this semester is exciting and enriching for everyone. For my fellow 3Ls, it’s hard to believe we are in our last semester already. It seems like just yesterday we were starting our Law School journeys, with a thrilling solar eclipse no less. Having experienced a “last semester ever” in Charlottesville during my fourth year of undergrad, my big recommendation to all of you is to truly enjoy Charlottesville. If there is a restaurant you’ve always wanted to try, check it out. If you still want to explore a winery, take a nice afternoon and go. If you haven’t been to the national park right next door to us, grab some friends, get in a car, and go! I doubt you’ll regret any of those memories you make this year.

2Ls, congrats on being half-way done with Law School! It’s been great watching you all grow into true leaders throughout the Law School. I’m beyond excited to see what else you all will do. 1Ls, a huge congrats to you as well for finishing your first semester! That is without a doubt a great achievement and I hope you took time over break to let that sink in. You’ve learned so much since August and still, you’re just getting started. Enjoy spring semester and all the possibilities it brings for you!

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jtl3gm@virginia.edu

Feb Club: When Life Gives You a Leap Year, Make Every Day Count

Virginia Law Weekly January 29, 2020

Taz Jones ‘20
Guest Writer

“Life goes by pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, and do whatever you want all the time, you could miss it.” – Eric Cartman

Look, I get it. We all get it. You’re a 1L, you’re (air quotes) sleepy; you’re a 2L and you’re (air quotes), like, really busy planning your journal’s upcoming symposium on cryptocurrency and the illicit exotic parakeet market; you’re a 3L and you (no air quotes—this is real) haven’t left the couch or called your mom in at least two weeks. Sounds like you could use some fresh air. Also, you should really call your mom back.

Enter: Feb Club—a tradition unlike any other. UVA Law’s oldest* customary event series brings together the entire Law School community under the banner of festive theme parties to ensure that we all survive the winter without missing a good time or twenty-nine. There’s only one rule for Feb Club: All are welcome, and all are expected to be in good spirits. Ok, that’s two rules, but no one ever went to law school because they’re good at math.

We hope that all students and faculty will join us for this year’s installment—Feb Club: 20/20 Visions. We make literally almost no promises, with one exception: The camaraderie and collegiality that makes UVA Law so special will be on full display, and you won’t regret that study break. Was that two reasons? Dammit.

We’re pleased to share, below, the full schedule of events for Feb Club 2020, and we encourage you likewise to follow along on Facebook and TikTok** for more detailed updates regarding each planned event. As always, attendees can expect a wide range of social engagement opportunities sponsored by an equally diverse roster of student organizations and particularly fun-loving classmates.

Questions? Comments? Eh, don’t worry about it. We’ll see you on February 1.

Your Feb Club Fun Director,

Taz Jones, ’20
___
wtj9aw@virginia.edu

*The author has provided The Virginia Law Weekly with no historical records or other evidence to corroborate this claim.

**The editors note that, contrary to the author’s assertions, at present there exists no TikTok account associated with UVA Law Feb Club.