Wednesday, May 6, 2026

We all have to stand up for the Rule of Law

This was the overarching message at the seminar I attended (via Zoom) yesterday, "Under Siege: The American Judiciary and the Rule of Law," co-sponsored by the Chicago Bar Association, the Cummins Family Foundation, and the Berkeley Judicial Institute. I know the seminar was recorded. If the technical hitches that marred the transmission of one of the presentations did not interfere with that recording, I hope the CBA may offer it as one of their on-demand CLE offerings.

The fellow pictured here is not a judge; he's not even an American. He is, in fact, Marcus Tullius Cicero. Cicero may not have been the best lawyer Rome ever produced, but he is certainly the most famous. But there is an American tie-in: Our Founding Fathers were quite familiar with his work.

Our educational system has deteriorated to the point where you probably are not so familiar with Cicero. Maybe all you know about Cicero is that it is the north-south street at 4800 W on the Chicago grid map. Thanks to GPS, you might not even know that much.

So let me tell you: Cicero was elected as Consul of Rome for the year 63 B.C. (with Gaius Antonius Hybrida, Mark Anthony's uncle... and, at one point, his father-in-law as well). This was an astounding achievement for Cicero, not only because he was a novus homo -- a "new man," meaning that no one in his family had ever achieved this office -- but because, unlike most Roman politicians, he had a negligible military career. His rise to consular rank was entirely due to his prowess as a lawyer. And also his client base, of course.

You see, Cicero regularly represented other politicians in court, and very successfully, too, defending them against charges of bribery and corruption. By Cicero's time, it was pretty much customary to lodge charges of bribery or corruption against every politician leaving office. The late Roman Republic did not have political parties as we know them today, but there were always competing factions, and everyone had some enemies. Mark Anthony and Cicero were enemies, for example. Eventually, Anthony had Cicero proscribed -- murdered. Read the Phillipics if you want to know why.

But the point is, by the late Republic, when someone in your faction left office, someone in my faction would bring charges. Today, we call it "lawfare." And, of course, since our modern American society is almost entirely ignorant of history, most of us are blissfully unaware of the corrosive effect that lawfare had on the late Republic... and of the corrosive effect that it will have on our institutions as well, if allowed to continue.

But let's not get ahead of the story.

We're talking about lawfare in the late Republic. Most of you probably know that, in January 49 B.C., Gaius Julius Caesar started the Civil War which effectively ended the Republic, crossing the Rubicon with one of his legions. What most of you may have forgotten -- or, more likely, were never taught -- was that Caesar took this action to avoid lawfare.

I don't say this by way of making an excuse for Caesar. I say it because it was a fact.

Caesar had been elected Consul of Rome for 59 B.C. (with Marcus Calpurnius Bibulus). Again, there were no political parties as such at this time, but Caesar was identified with the populist faction, while Bibulus was one of the self-described boni, the good men, who saw themselves as the guardians of Roman customs and tradition. Conservatives. Marcus Porcius Cato Uticensis -- Cato the Younger -- a particular hero of George Washington, for one -- was one of Caesar's most implacable foes and one of the most prominent boni. Cicero became increasingly identified with the boni faction as time went on. Anyway, when Caesar was Consul, Bibulus did his best to frustrate his colleague's legislative program, a principal feature of which was a land settlement for the veterans of the legions of Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus (whom you may remember as Pompey), who had recently conquered large swathes of what we now call the Near East. Bibulus did not have TROs to work with, but he did invoke the unfavorability of omens on all occasions. Eventually, with Pompey's support, Caesar started to ignore his colleague and, Bibulus, sulking, stayed mostly at home (leaving local wags to refer to 59 B.C. as the consulship of Julius and Caesar). After his year in office, and again with Pompey's support, Caesar obtained a five-year governorship in both Cisalpine and Transalpine Gaul... and then, during the course of this term and a five-year renewal, gobbled up all the rest of Gaul (and, you may remember, conducted a foray into Britain).

By the end of 50 B.C., Caesar's time in Gaul was coming to an end. But -- 10 years' time having elapsed since he was elected to his first consulship, under the constitutional reforms initiated by the dictator Sulla -- Caesar was eligible to serve as consul again. He was also eligible for a triumph, having brought all Gaul under Roman sway. Under the law, he could bring his armies down from Gaul for the triumph, whereupon, if the usual course of action had been followed, they would have been disbanded. But Caesar could not cross the pomerium, the traditional city limits, while still in command of his armies and waiting for his triumph. And he could not stand for consul without appearing in the Forum (necessarily crossing the pomerium) unless he were granted the privilege of standing for election in absentia. Pompey had been allowed to do this -- but, by this time, Pompey had moved to Cato's side.

Here's where the lawfare comes in: Once Caesar laid down his command, he could be charged. And Cato had had 10 years to plan the trial. There was no dobut as to its outcome. If Caesar were elected consul in the interim, he could not be charged until that term of office expired. Caesar might forego his triumph (which was a big public spectacle, with games and free food, in addition to the triumphal parade itself) in order to become a candidate. But failing to hold the triumph would not endear him to the masses, or his troops, and he would be charged in the meantime. Maybe the election would happen before the trial... and maybe not. Cato had done his best (or worst) to foreclose every constitutional channel open to Caesar and he'd recruited Pompey to the boni and we are supposed to be surprised that Caesar acted unconstitutionally.

So... why am I going on about Roman history when I'm supposed to be talking about how we modern Americans need to stand up for the Rule of Law?

Thanks to our Founders' detailed knowledge of Roman history, we have a written Constitution. Yeah, your 'social studies' teacher may have told you that we have a written Constitution because the British did not, and this is also true, but woefully incomplete. You see, our Founders were trying to establish a Republic, and the only long-lived historical example they could point to was the Roman Republic (which lasted from 509 B.C. -- the traditional date -- until Caesar crossed the Rubicon -- or maybe until 27 B.C., when Caesar's great-nephew, Augustus, finally launched the Principate). The Founders were trying to invent institutions that would resist the pressures that brought down the Roman Republic.

Our Constitution is not a weapon to be deployed against our political opponents. Yeah, again, I know Hamilton and Jefferson were each accusing the other of violating the Constitution almost before the ink was dry. And each faction and party has made similar charges against its opponents ever since. That didn't make it right then, and it isn't right now either.

Nor is the Constitution an inconvenience that must be 'gotten around' in order to achieve some allegedly lofty goal. It is the glue that holds America together, hopefully much better than the blood ties that bind, or used to bind, the nation states of the Old World. Every legislator that expresses support for a proposed law that he or she knows, or should know, to be contrary to the Constitution violates their sacred and solemn oath of office... and undermines the necessary reverence our Constitution deserves.

The Rule of Law does not mean that, when I rule, I make the laws.

The Rule of Law does mean that we have to follow the law, even laws we don't like, even laws that are unpopular, so long as they are constitutional. We Americans have a hard time with this concept. See, Prohibition. See also, the War on Drugs. But we can do better.

Following the law does not mean ignoring laws one does not like. You don't like (to pick just one random example) immigration laws? Lobby to change them. Congress refuses to change laws that you don't like? Well, stop voting for the same Congresspersons over and over again. Vote for someone else who agrees with you and who is willing to legislate.

Yesterday's seminar speakers made a point of saying that we lawyers must support, and speak out for, judges who follow the law, even though (and especially when) they are portrayed negatively for so doing. I agree. We must also speak out against judges who fail to follow the law. Because that, too, is standing up for the Rule of Law.

And, please, please, please: We must find a way to avoid lawfare. It killed the Roman Republic. It will kill ours, too. We can't turn a blind eye to corruption or bribery, which some of our leaders will engage in as long as we elect humans to represent us. But we also can't turn every disagreement over policy or place into some fanciful charge of corruption or worse.

And, one more thing, as long as I'm making unreasonable asks: Can we find a way to be nicer to each other? There are, unfortunately, some among us, perhaps some even in our profession, who would elevate party over country, ideology over reality, and political expediency above the dictates of the Constitution. I would bet large sums that you -- whoever you are -- and I would probably have significant differences in what we think would be the best way to fix what ails the country. Or even what those ailments might be. But if the welfare of the nation is uppermost for you, we should be able to find common cause. For the good of the nation, we have to try.

Monday, February 2, 2026

Happy Groundhog's Day for those of you who celebrate

Punxsutawney Phil has predicted six more weeks of winter. Woodstock Willie, on the other hand, is predicting an early spring. The on-and-off snow flurries outside my window this afternoon suggest Willie may be overly optimistic.

Everyone knows today is Groundhog's Day. Not as many will also know that today is Candlemas, the Feast of the Presentation of Jesus, and the absolute, final end of the Christmas Season.

After today, if your Christmas decorations are still up, you will have earned the stink eye you get from your neighbors and/or the HOA.

On the other hand, it's not quite the end of the Holiday Season. After all, the Super Bowl isn't until Sunday... and we still have Lincoln's Birthday, Presidents' Day, and Casimir Pulaski Day to look forward to.

I don't pretend to know which rudely awakened rodent is the better prognosticator. But I can, and do, predict -- with absolute certitude and overwhelming sadness -- that those of us who live in Illinois must endure six more weeks of political commercials. The primary -- and also the Feast of St. Patrick -- is six weeks from tomorrow. Not even the promise of Casimir Pulaski Day can make six more weeks of political commercials tolerable....

Monday, January 12, 2026

Statement of Justice Mary Jane Theis announcing resignation from the Illinois Supreme Court

More coverage of this story is available on Page One. Meanwhile, herewith the resignation letter issued today by Justice Theis:
To my Supreme Court Colleagues:

I will retire from my position as Supreme Court Justice at the end of business, January 29, 2026.

I became a judge on July 1, 1983. A few weeks later the Greylord scandal broke where 17 Illinois judges were convicted of bribery. The judiciary of Illinois was a national disgrace. Over the years, Illinois judges have committed themselves to repair this terrible breach of trust. In the current moment when confidence in the courts and ultimately the rule of law has been eroded, it may be helpful to reflect on some of the lessons learned and some actions taken.

People will respect judicial decisions if they believe the court was fair. Judges are accountable for their actions. The Illinois Code of Judicial Conduct is written in clear language with definitions and explanations so that judges and importantly the public understand what is demanded of judges. Our Constitution created an independent Courts Commission with the authority to impose discipline on judges, including removal, without interference by the Supreme Court. Today the Courts Commission is fully funded by the legislature with an easily accessible website. Additionally, the Illinois Judicial Ethics Committee has been providing public advisory opinions on judicial ethics for over 30 years. Judicial independence and judicial ethics are either side of the same coin.

Judges must be competent and committed to the highest ethical standards. The goal of judicial education in Illinois is to provide opportunities for transformative learning experiences grounded in these ethical values. Judicial education has grown from regional seminars to the biannual Education Conference, where this year over 100 programs will be presented. The Illinois Judicial College was created 10 years ago to provide a high-quality curriculum for judges and also our justice partners. We know that being a judge is not just another job – it is an awesome responsibility.

Courts must not only be fair, they must also have the appearance of fairness. This concept of procedural fairness is a core principle of the Illinois Judicial College. The Supreme Court and the Appellate Court have conducted oral arguments in venues all across the state so that members of the public can experience Illinois’ justice system. Cameras in the courtroom and live-streaming of court events have brought the courts closer to the public. The Illinois Judges Association has been a leader, connecting judges with communities to demystify the justice system. Improvements in public-facing data allow the public to better understand the work of the courts. We are proud of what we do.

Courts have a responsibility to meet the needs of the community. The rise of self-represented litigants has dramatically changed the civil justice system. In response, the Illinois Supreme Court in 2012 created the Access to Justice Commission to promote equal access to justice, particularly for the poor and vulnerable. Throughout the years, the Commission has proposed initiatives to help members of the community identify their legal issues and gain an understanding of court processes.. For one example, court users can contact Illinois Court Help to get help navigating the court system. Supreme Court Rule 756(f) was adopted to be an annual reminder to Illinois lawyers that providing pro bono legal services is part of their professional responsibilities. Recently, the Illinois Supreme Court approved the concept of non-lawyer community justice workers. Illinois also faces a crisis in indigent criminal defense. The passage of the FAIR Act is an effort to find statewide solutions. The Covid pandemic forced the courts to adopt new ideas about access to justice. Many litigants today can have their legal issues resolved in remote proceedings. Courts are not a place, they are a service.

Courts must respond to real people with real people problems. Ours courts serve some of the most vulnerable people in our communities – people with severe mental illness, abused children, victims of domestic violence, people struggling with addiction, people with dementia who can no longer care for themselves, children in detention. Our courts have been addressing these problems in new and innovative ways, and Illinois has become a national leader, especially in the area of mental health. Problem solving courts have been shown to be highly effective. Actually, all courts are problem solving courts.

These are just some of the ways Illinois judges have worked to restore public trust. Canon 1, Rule 1.2 of the Code of Judicial Conduct says: “A judge shall act at all times in a manner that promotes public confidence in the independence, integrity, and impartiality of the judiciary.” Illinois judges work every day to earn the People’s trust.

I am deeply grateful that I have had the opportunity to serve.

Very truly yours,


MARY JANE THEIS
Justice, Illinois Supreme Court
First District

Wednesday, December 17, 2025

Day 4 of no home Internet: AT&T still hasn't found the squirrel; I'm not sure they're really looking

I published my sad tale of home Internet loss on Monday evening. I'd figured out/remembered how to turn a cell phone into a hot spot by then. Thus, I had two hot spots -- the one under my collar and the aforementioned phone -- and a means by which to inflict my admittedly First World problem back upon the Internet itself.

I fancy myself a writer these days. Writers write. (At least, we're supposed to.) And, as Mark Twain may or may not have said, "Write what you know." (Maybe it was Hemingway who said it. Whatever. This sort of direction puts a person like me at a competitive disadvantage, given how little I know about anything. But I knew about not having Internet. So I wrote about that.) The trick, of course, is to frame one's complaints in a way that proves instructive or at least amusing for others. When successful, this raises the output from mere whiny journaling to something more. Not much more, perhaps (after all, it is still whining), but that is for the reader to decide. Either way, I found the exercise therapeutic.

Yesterday morning, still pleased with my effort, I Tweeted out a link to the post. (I still say "Tweet" when referring to a posting on X. If I were to write 'I X'd something out' it would be, in my view, ambiguous. Had I crossed something out, rendering it illegible, or had I launched it into the wider world on the social media platform now known as X?)

The X-post elicited a response from AT&T. A person who is probably not known as Emma to her actual friends and family left a comment which read, in pertinent part, "I completely understand how important it is to count on reliable connections and I truly apologize for the inconvenience this has caused to you. I'll definitely look into this. Could you please help me with the zip code?"

I provided it. Soon thereafter, Emma left another reply, "Thank you for sharing the zip code. As I have checked with the shared zip code there is no service interruption from our end." Welcome to Corporate America, where the customer is always wrong. But I was prepared for this; I had (you may recall) figured out how to sign onto the AT&T website and check for outages that way. I published a photo of my laptop screen, similar to the one above. Identical, really, except the one above is from this morning. I also published another screenshot, this one showing the area of outage. It's small. No more than a block or two in any direction. (Which is why I assume that a squirrel caused it, as opposed to the North Koreans or some piratical band of Eastern Europeans.)

Anyway, confronted with the evidence of her own website, "Emma" was forced to concede, "As per the picture it looks like there's an outage at your location. I'll definitely get this checked for you. Could you please meet us in a DM so that we can take this further."

Now I have to admit, despite Doomscrolling far more than I should on X, I have never used the DM feature to any great extent. My first mistake was thinking I was to find a way to DM "Emma." But that's not how it works. Eventually, I figured out that I had to DM AT&T itself. "Emma" was there waiting... but not for long. I also didn't know how or where to look for DM responses, so I didn't see her responses until after she completed her shift.

"Emma" was replaced by "Juan."
Hello, Jack. I understand that you are experiencing issues with the Internet service due an outage. We're really sorry to know about the situation you're experiencing. You can be sure our specialized tech team is working hard to get everything up and running as soon as possible.
I sparred with Juan for awhile yesterday afternoon and evening. He sent me back to the website which I've visited a hundred times in the last few days. Shockingly, it still showed an outage. It still does. Juan later insisted, "I've carefully reviewed and checked the area, we have our engineers working right now to bring the internet back on and repair all the lines damaged." He thanked me for my non-existent patience. Both Juan and Ella were unfailingly polite.

But you know what? It doesn't matter. My Internet is still out. It's a relatively nice day today here in Chicago; I could, and did, take a good long walk through the neighborhood this morning, looking for any specialized AT&T engineers. I didn't find any. And my Internet is still out.

On the other hand, I also didn't find a dead squirrel. Maybe finding the bloated, decaying rodent corpse is more difficult than one would think... but, then, I lack any sophisticated squirrel detection equiptment: I am not a specialized AT&T engineer.

Monday, December 15, 2025

Day 2 of no home Internet is about to become Day 3 and desperation is beginning to set in


I'm not Andy Rooney, but I'm feeling cantankerous and curmudgeonly these days and, like the late Mr. Rooney, I'm not afraid to tell you about it.

I don't know for certain when our home Internet went down. It may have been out Sunday morning before my wife and I went to Mass; it was certainly gone afterward.

I don't overreact. I know the drill. First unplug the router, then restart it.

Nope.

Then unplug the Internet modem. Restart that.

Nope.

Only then did I try to find a telephone number where I could report my situation and, perhaps, find out whether my issue was a failure of my equipment or whether I was caught up in a larger problem. I found a number fairly quickly.

The AI that answered my call told me, in an annonyingly cheery voice, that it needed to run a few tests to check the problem. These tests took a bit of time. "Thank you for your patience," the cheery AI said. Goes to show you how bad AI is at reading us meatsacks: I had no patience at all. And that was at the beginning of this odyssey.

When the tests were concluded, the AI agreed that there was an outage in our area. But, the AI enthused, AT&T is aware of the problem and they are working to fix it. The AI estimated that repairs would be complete by 2:14 p.m.

But the Bears game started at noon! We cut the cable cord some years back; streaming was cheaper (well, it used to be). On the other hand, recent Bears games had all come down to 4th quarter; perhaps it would be alright.

The oddly specific estimated time for restoration of service came... and went... and the angry red lights were still flashing on the Internet modem. I called again. The AI was still cheery, but it may have been drinking. After again running a few tests ("thank you for your patience") and confirming that there was still an outage in my area, the AI offered a new estimated restoration time of "dollar sign-brackets." The Bears managed to win without my watching.

I called a couple more times yesterday, but the AI, perhaps embarrassed by its estimated restoration time of "dollar sign-brackets," refused to give any more estimated restoration times. After running its lengthy tests, while thanking me -- again -- for my patience, the AI did add -- in its insistently upbeat way -- that it understood how frustrating this was, but I didn't believe that any more than you do.

The Internet was still down this morning. So I called again. After running a few more tests (how many are there?), and thanking me for my patience, and conceding that there was, indeed, still an outage in my area, the AI braved a new restoration time: 4:50 p.m.

I understand that it's cold outside. But wouldn't you think that a ginormous corporation like AT&T could dispatch a technian to look for the remains of whatever squirrel that bit through the wire that brought down our local Internet service? Given how much it charges for its services, AT&T presumably could even furnish its technician with a heated truck.

If AT&T did have someone driving around the neighborhood looking for a squirrel carcass, he or she was not successful in his search, because 4:50 came and went this afternoon and the Internet was not restored.

I figured out how to sign on to the AT&T website today; this way, I don't have to listen to the AI anymore. But, since the 4:50 p.m. restoration time slipped by, the website has stopped guessing restoration times. At least it didn't tell me that my service would be restored by dollar sign-bracket.

And, without the distraction of TV, I had a chance to catch up on my reading a little. I read my AT&T bill for one. It seems AT&T is going to increase my bill by $5 starting next month. Who'd have guessed that?

Thank you for your patience.

Thursday, November 20, 2025

Some of you may be interested in this, hopefully from a national security perspective

As opposed to, for example, wanting to join in:
Because I run a political site, I get emails from all points on the political spectrum. I got this one a few days back. It promotes an upcoming "webinar cohosted by the Party for Socialism and Liberation." Yes, that's a link to the party website in the preceding sentence (motto: "For the planet to live, capitalism must end"). OK, don't believe the actual website -- you're a 'normie' like me, and you don't want to believe that there are communists out there trying to turn disagreements over policies into revolution. ("See?" you might say, "It says socialism in the name, not communism. You know, like Sweden?")

That's fine. Check out instead the Wikipedia entry for the Party for Socialism and Liberation: "The Party for Socialism and Liberation (PSL) is a communist political party in the United States. PSL formed in 2004, when its members split from the Workers World Party." Thus, these really are actual communists, or at least communist cosplayers. So much for truth in labeling.

Here, in case you can't read the image clearly, are the first two paragraphs of the text:
We’ve reached 400,000 Americans ready for a General Strike, with 7 million taking to the streets during the No Kings rallies and the Chicago Mayor even calling for one — the idea is starting to break through. This is our ultimate weapon, and we can make it a reality.

On Saturday, November 22nd at 12pm PST / 3pm EST we’re gathering online to test our preparedness for a General Strike. Join this crucial webinar cohosted by the Party for Socialism and Liberation to learn from labor leaders about how general strikes have happened historically and how we can apply these lessons now.
Maybe you were one of those "seven millions" who joined a No Kings rally (that particular number is at the very tip top of the estimates of the turnout, by the way, though it is one that even some supposedly reputable outlets reported). But does your participation mean you are ready to join the revolutionary struggle to destroy capitalism? (That would be one way to reduce your property taxes -- abolish private property! But, then, where would you live?) Are these the folks you want setting the opposition agenda? What "labor leaders" are supporting this craziness? Who is paying for this? Cui bono?

I took an oath 45 years ago, when I became an attorney, to "support the constitution of the United States and the constitution of the state of Illinois," and I'm not going back on it now. I hope and pray I am still in the majority on this.

Wednesday, June 4, 2025

Breaking news... of a sort... or at least an explanation as to why the frequency of posting has declined in recent weeks

I always have grand plans for what to put up here and (of greater import to would-be judicial candidates and their supporters) on Page One of FWIW. Even in my current retired state, I seldom get as much done as I think I should.

But those who have been regularly clicking in on FWIW in recent weeks have noticed that I have barely posted anything at all. I have received some emails, inquiring as to my whereabouts.

I haven't gone anywhere. But, on April 22, whilst walking a couple of my grandchildren home from school, I fell, breaking my left arm, just below the shoulder. Yes, I broke my humerus, but I didn't find anything humorous about it at all. Well... maybe in the way I fell: The little group I was walking with were all headed southbound on White Street in Des Plaines, heading away from Central School, in the general direction of my daughter's house, or so I thought. My four-year-old grandson, who'd accompanied me on the school pickup mission, decided to reverse course without warning anyone; he'd just passed a particularly interesting dandelion and wanted to go back for another look. I wasn't looking ahead; I was getting the latest information about third grade recess etiquette from my granddaughter, who was walking to my right, so I didn't know that I was in jeopardy until my legs were so tangled up with the four-year old's that the only question was not whether I would topple, but where.

If I'd been walking next to a similarly-sized adult, I might have grabbed hold and remained upright. But my granddaughter, if tall for her age, was too short for this purpose. If I fell on her, I might hurt her. If I fell forward, I would probably injure my grandson. So, having no better option, I fell to my left, into the grassy parkway adjacent to the sidewalk. I went down like an old tree in a hurricane.

I heard the crunch.

I knew immediately that I was in trouble; I had no way of knowing how much trouble I was in. And would be in, going forward.

I hope to tell some stories about this experience elsewhere. Suffice, for these purposes, to say that having a broken arm complicates the simplest of tasks. Sneezing, for example. Getting out of a chair, for another. Who knew that the shoulder muscle is involved in standing up? Many hours after the fall, when I finally saw the ER doc, he tried to offer consolation: "Yes, your arm is broken, but at least it's your left arm."

He paused. "Unless you're left-handed, of course."

"I am," I said.

"Bummer."

Standing was not my only difficulty. Even typing... when I finally mustered the courage to try it... was incredibly painful.

But I am making progress: Typing is now merely... uncomfortable. So I will get back to posting... as tolerated. (I believe that's still the proper medical jargon....)

Tuesday, April 8, 2025

Wisdom from the comics... part 2,245

Click on any image to enlarge or clarify.
From last Sunday's Brewster Rockit. I think I can guess what his theory is.

Can you?

Speaking of phones, and what they're putting in them these days, I believe Artificial Intelligence will get sassy before it decides to murder us. When the Perseverance Rover starts sending messages like this (from Carpe Diem, March 28), it may be best to start unplugging things:
Aliens and outer space are a theme here this morning.

This March 6 entry from Bizzaro fits in:
But I come back to Earth for this final entry. Lawyer Ed Kudlik is frustrated that his son Dustin still lives at home. He can't understand why Dustin seems insuficiently motivated to leave the nest (hmmm... failure to launch... so sort of keeping with the outer space theme after all....)

Anyway, even in his chronic frustrated state, Ed can be reminded of what is truly important (Dustin comic, March 30):

Friday, March 14, 2025

What is the math equivalent of a Hallmark Holiday?

Seen on Facebook. Posted there by... I don't know who because Facebook decided it should refresh its page on my screen and send the post from which I had grabbed this photo swirling into the depths of the algorithm. An extensive search has proved fruitless.

My apologies to the original poster, to whom I would surely have given credit if only Facebook had let me.

In the course of my search, though, I did find this Facebook post, which I grabbed from Anna Konya:
There are those who insist that puns are the lowest form of humor. This cartoon, by Grant Snider, from Incidental Comics, is typical:
Puns may not be the most sophisticated form of humor, but to rank them beneath scatalogical humor is just so many road apples.

But to return to the topic, one more post, that I saw on Lynn Dowd's Facebook feed today, attributed to a site called Only Engineers Can Understand:
Enjoy the rest of Pi Day... but beware tomorrow.

Tomorrow... you know... the Ides of March?

Friday, January 10, 2025

Opportunities for responsibly disposing Christmas trees and holiday light strings

The Three Kings have dropped off their gifts and are returning to their own countries by a different route, just as they were warned to do in a dream. It is now time to take down the Christmas decorations. But must the tree just be left at the curb or in the alley for garbage pickup? What about that light string that burned so brightly in December... but failed just after New Year's?

Chicago area residents have several options to responsibly dispose of their used Christmas trees and no-longer-working light strings.

As seen in the poster above, the Chicago Park District lists 27 locations at which residents may drop off their used Christmas trees. Dropoff dates are supposed to be between this Saturday, January 11, and Saturday January 25, but I can state for a fact that a lot of trees have already been dropped off at Norwood Park already. (When you put up a tree right after Halloween, even though you make heroic efforts to keep it moist, it's almost impossible that the poor thing will make it all the way to Día de los Reyes Magos... there were a few trees at the park on the Feast of St. Stephen.)

And, as of Monday, January 13, your used tree can be traded in for usable mulch, at least at the locations indicated above.

If you act quickly enough, you can turn your used tree into goat food: According to this post from Channel 11, the Urban Growers Collective is recycling trees by feeding them to their herd of goats. Trees may be dropped off until 5:00 p.m. today and from 9:30 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. tomorrow, January 11, at the collective's South Chicago Farm, 9001 S. Mackinaw Street (enter off 90th Street).

North suburban readers may want to donate their used trees at one of eight locations operated by the Lake County Forest Preserve District. This Patch article lists all eight donation sites. Used trees will be accepted at these locations until Feburary 1.

At least some of the trees donated will be used by Lake County as "fish cribs." According to the Channel 11 article, donated trees are tied together and weighted down with cinderblocks or similar heavy objects, then submerged in larger lakes, such as former quarries, where they can provide a vital habitat for young fish.

As for holiday light strings which have given up the Ghost of Christmas Past, Reduce Waste Chicago has announced 30 locations at which used light strings will be accepted. All are listed at this link, from the Edgebrook Ace Hardware Store at 5423 W. Devon, to the UPS Store at 6102 S. Archer Ave. in Chicago. Outside Chicago, lights will be collected at the Rebuilding Exchange, 1245 Hartrey Ave. in Evanston and by the PTO at Whittier Elementary, 715 N. Harvey, in Oak Park (donations must be made during school hours).

Reduce Waste Chicago says that, last year, more than 3,000 pounds of lights were collected from 24 locations last year. Thanks to the expansionof collection sites, the organization expects to collect even more this year (through January 31). (Credit to this article by Pavan Acharya of Block Club Chicago for this information.)

Readers should know that different municipalities have different, often contradictory, rules about what materials may be recycled in their communities. The City of Chicago, for example, complained a couple of years ago that shiny wrapping paper -- you know, the good stuff -- was not recyclable.

The Chicago Sun-Times reported earlier this week about a new app called Recycle Coach that several Chicago-area municipalities, including now the City of Chicago itself, are using to help residents determine what is and is not recyclable in their area.

Wednesday, November 20, 2024

A belated Happy Rockyversary to Rocket J. Squirrel and Bullwinkle J. Moose

Charlie Meyerson's Chicago Public Square had this yesterday, but it's not the first time I've been a day late... or, for that matter, a dollar short.

Hard to believe that Moose and Squirrel have been frustrating Boris and Natasha and Fearless Leader from their base in Frostbite Falls, Minnesota for 65 years now, but that's what Meyerson reports.

I'm a fan.

OK, I'm an obsessive: I have all five seasons of the show on DVD. My children never quite got into the shows; some of them chafed at my constant explanations of the references, once topical, by then historical. (Perhaps -- just possibly -- not all of the running commentary was necessary.) But I have grandchildren now, and, like Boris, I have a Fiendish Plan.

My Fiendish Plan has been to introduce the show to the grandkids... but, also like Boris, my plan has foundered upon implementation. It seems the new generation is not as much interested in sly Cold War comedy as they are in... well... Paw Patrol... or Super Kitties...
which is the Disney Channel's 'homage' to Paw Patrol -- and can you believe someone would want to imitate Paw Patrol? -- or Batwheels...

which, incredibly enough, is just exactly what it looks like....

There has to be a window where it will be possible to bring at least some of the kids into at least an appreciation of Rocky, Bullwinkle, Dudley Do-Right, Peabody and Sherman, Aesop's Fables, and (of course) Fractured Fairy Tales ... but, inasmuch as the Rocky and Bullwinkle Show never once mentioned Taylor Swift, it can't be a very large window.

But I continue to hope.

Thursday, November 14, 2024

A voice from the past, describing the present

I came late to the writings of C.S. Lewis. The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe was already a major motion picture before I got around to reading the Narnia books. Somewhere along the way, I enjoyed The Screwtape Letters, but I'd never even heard that Lewis had dabbled in science fiction until recently, when I found his science fiction trilogy at Costco.

I'm on the third volume now, pictured here, but I had to interrupt my reading to make this post.

Lewis wrote That Hideous Strength in or about 1944. But the words he puts in the mouth of a very bad character, in the course of trying to recruit a naive professor into her evil organization, with just minor adjustments for topics and technology, could easily have been written in the last few months:
"Don't you understand anything? Isn't it absolutely essential to keep a fierce Left and a fierce Right, both on their toes and each terrified of the other? That's how we get things done. Any opposition to the N.I.C.E. is represented as a Left racket in the Right papers and a Right racket in the Left papers. If it's properly done, you get each side outbidding the other in support of us---to refute the enemy slanders. Of course we're non-political. The real power always is."

"I don't believe you can do that," said Mark. "Not with the papers that are read by educated people."

"That shows you're still in the nursery, lovey," said Miss Hardcastle. "Haven't you yet realised that it's the other way around?"

"How do you mean?"

"Why you fool, it's the educated reader who can be gulled. All our difficulty comes with the others. When did you meet a workman who believes the papers? He takes it for granted that they're all propaganda and skips the leading articles. He buys his paper for the football results and little paragraphs about girls falling out of windows and corpses found in Mayfair flats. He is our problem. We have to recondition him. But the educated public, the people who read the high-brow weeklies, don't need reconditioning. They're all right already. They'll believe anything."

"As one of the class you mention," said Mark with a smile, "I just don't believe it."

"Good Lord!" said the Fairy, "where are your eyes? Look at what the weeklies have got away with! Look at the Weekly Question. When Basic English came in simply as the invention of a free-thinking Cambridge don, nothing was too good for it; as soon as it was taken up by a Tory Prime Minister it became a threat to the purity of our language. And wasn't the Monarchy an expensive abusurdity for ten years? And then, when the Duke of Windsor abdicated, didn't the Question go all monarchist and legitimist for about a fortnight? Did they drop a single reader? Don't you see that the educated reader can't stop reading the high-brow weeklies whatever they do? He can't. He's been conditioned."
(That Hideous Strength, by C.S. Lewis, ch. 5, pp. 97-98, Scribner Ed. 2024.)

I've often wondered why the Trojans let that horse in....

I don't know if the Millennials and Zoomers use antivirus programs; if they do, I suppose they would call them "apps," not programs. But the names of the unfortunate Trojan guards in the cartoon above should be familiar enough to the younger generations to prompt a chuckle, even from them.

The rest of us have paid for McAfee or Norton since before the Earth's crust cooled. Norton now operates on a subscription basis; actually, I think Norton was one of the first programs to require subscriptions. I know I was a subscriber in 2010, when I dealt with an actual 'trojan horse' virus. Much as I don't like subscriptions, I suppose a subscription model makes particular sense for antivirus programs, given the rapidity with which new security threats evolve in the online world.

But am I the only one who thinks the most common feature of antivirus software is trying to upsell the user on new products or features? The occasional scan may be reassuring, but the results always come with a warning that there are all sorts of unnecessary files or applications slowing down your computer -- and, if one tries to click toward a solution, an offer to 'solve' the problem by upgrading one's subscription for only several dollars more per year.

It feels less like protection... and more like protection racket. Hey, this is a nice computer you got here... it would be a shame if something happened to it.... It does leave the user -- this user, anyway -- wondering what it is that we are actually paying for now....

-------------------------------------------------------
The cartoon above was taken from a Facebook site called Writers, Readers and General Tomfoolery. I tried, but failed, to decipher the creator information at the top of the image so that I could give proper credit to the actual cartoonist. I apologize for that. I will gladly update to properly credit the original source if it can be ascertained.

Friday, October 25, 2024

Too big to fail, and too big, even, to pay attention...

We live in a marvelous age. From my computer, or even my phone, I can order almost anything, from almost anywhere, and have it on my doorstep in a moment. If I order from Amazon, and I'm willing to wait a couple of extra moments, Amazon will give me a digital credit besides.

Amazon has my credit card; I have my desires. I get stuff without having to leave the house; Amazon gets money.

Most of the time, it is a satisfactory relationship. Not healthy, necessarily, but satisfactory.

The picture above shows a Ninja Foodi Programmable 10-in-1 5-Quart Pressure Cooker and Air Fryer.

Amazon thinks I ordered one of these on August 21 of this year and directed that it be shipped to Vancouver, Washington, a place where I know no one and where I've never been.

I found what appeared to be an Amazon email in my inbox on the morning of August 22 advising me of this "purchase" and, of course, I completely lost my mind.

Mind you, as a sophisticated netizen, who knew damn good and well that I had not ordered this item, I did not click on any of the inviting links in said email. I fired up my computer, opened Amazon, and went to my recent orders page. And, of course, the order was not there. How could it be? I hadn't ordered it.

I found a "report a scam" address somewhere on the Amazon homepage and forwarded said email, advising of my suspicions that this must be some sort of phishing expedition.

Pretty good for an old guy, right?

But I am not just a good netizen, I am a cautious consumer. I went next to the webpage of the ginormous bank which issued the credit card I had linked to the Amazon account.

Ruh roh! Ginormous Bank showed a charge had been made for this item ($124.95, if you're comparison shopping).

Now we'd entered a different realm: Someone was trying to live in an even more marvelous age than thee or me. This person had found a way to order almost anything, from almost anywhere, and charge it to someone else's credit card. I had been hacked.

But I knew what to do. After fighting my way through not-at-all-helpful phone-menu Hell, I eventually got hold of a human at Ginormous Bank, advised of the fraudulent charge, and canceled the compromised card.

Meanwhile, later that same day, Amazon sent me an email proudly announcing that it had failed to cancel the fraudulent order but instead had shipped it.

In fairness, my initial email to Amazon (written before I knew that a charge had been made to my credit card) did not say outright that this order was fraudulent. When I forwarded that first email, advising that the order appeared to have been placed, I wrote, "This looked legitimate -- as well as fraudulent. I checked my account online to verify that no such product was ordered, but this is a definite phishing attempt."

So -- again -- good netizen and good customer that I am -- and within a few hours of receiving same -- I dutifully forwarded the shipping email to the Amazon "report a scam" address with a more carefully worded email, the pertinent portions of which are as follows:
I have received another email on this fraudulent transaction. I am forwarding this email herewith.

I reported this fraudulent transaction by email this morning.

I did not see this order show up on my Amazon Orders page. It is not there yet. However, the credit card that I have linked to Amazon was charged $124.95 in connection with this fraudulent purchase.

I have reached out to the card holder, disputed the transaction, and the card will be reissued.

I will change my Amazon password immediately.

Is there any other action I should take?

Thank you in advance for your anticipated prompt response.
Perhaps my communication skills are slipping... but I believe the above and foregoing was surely adquate to convey the fact that the order in question was fraudulent. This email was sent on the afternoon of August 22. Amazon said it planned to deliver the item in question -- to Vancouver, Washington -- on August 28. In other words, they had more than enough time to take the darned thing off the truck.

If they wanted to. If anyone was actually paying attention.

Amazon did not respond to this email specifically.

But that very night, in the wee small hours of the morning, Amazon sent me another email 'confirming' my order of a plant stand that I wanted sent to Barre, Vermont.

Another place I've never been.

And, of course, I had not ordered any plant stand. I fired off another email to Amazon "report a scam."

I must confess: Some ALL CAPS were involved....

But things seemed to settle down after that: Ginormous Bank issued me a new card. I linked said new card to my Amazon account and resumed ordering such gimcracks and gewgaws as I required. All seemed well with the world....

... Until last night. Why does Amazon send these things at night? (I fear I may know the answer: Our future AI-overlords have no need of sleep....)

Anyway, this latest email says, in essence, golly, your credit card issuer reversed the charge for this item... but we'd like our money anyway.

I've spent the morning trying to find a telephone number to call to complain. I did find a way to ask for Amazon to call me -- and someone did call -- and I related the facts as set forth here. Perhaps a bit more loudly. It didn't help that the "customer service" screens had no option for me to report (again) a fraudulent transaction. It also did not help that the call dropped twice. The poor lady who had to deal with me called back the first time; I guess she'd had enough after the second drop. I don't suppose, really, that I blame her.

Thereafter, after re-reading the latest Amazon email, I composed a terse, but rational, response (copying "report a scam" just in case they've never been introduced).

So far, I've received a generic reply to my response, mostly telling me to do all the things I did in August... when I first reported the situation. The interrupted phone call yielded this email:
I haven't responded, of course, because I don't know if the problem is resolved yet or not. Time will tell.

I am not entirely optimistic....

Tuesday, October 15, 2024

Thoughts on watching the oral argument in the Trump fraud case

When I post an article to FWIW, I generally put up a linking post on X (which you may still think of as Twitter). That's normal self-promotion, and not necessarily unhealthy.

The unhealthy part comes when I start browsing... and re-Tweeting... and liking... and bookmarking... and going into and through a myriad of rabbit holes, some of them apparently sane and informative, others obviously anything but. The really crazy ones are sometimes the most entertaining... and addicting.

Way back in 1993 Peter Steiner came up with an iconic cartoon for The New Yorker (at left) that suggested (and not for the last time) that not every Internet "expert" was what they seemed to be. And now there's 'Legal Twitter.' I don't mean to suggest that any particular account is flea-bitten... but one can sometimes get suspicious.

Lately about a gazillion Tweets have been posted about the September 26 oral arguments in the case of People of the State of NY v. Trump, No. 2023-04925. That's a link to the video of the oral argument in the preceding sentence; the YouTube video of the argument is at the end of this post.

A great many of the posts on X about the argument, many of them with clips from the argument, suggested that the New York Attorney General was 'destroyed' (or similar terms) in the argument... some suggesting that, by the end, the State was begging not to have sanctions imposed.

Um.

Actually, part of the argument concerned an appeal from sanctions against Trump's lawyers.

I know this because I watched the argument today.

I watched it because I wanted to see for myself how well or badly Trump fared in the argument.

I don't claim to be an expert on 'Legal Twitter.'

I don't have a license to practice in New York. I've never practiced in New York. I have argued a fair number of appeals, however, though only in Illinois.

And, in the course of arguing cases before an appellate bench, I developed a sense of whether I was likely to prevail... or not. (It's one of the reasons I always... well, almost always... wanted oral argument on an appeal: When I filed my last brief, whether appellee's brief, or appellant's reply, I was always convinced I had crafted a winning argument. A decision issued without argument sometimes brought with it a cruel letdown.)

I'm not saying I could always walk out of a courtroom knowing I had won or lost... well, there was one time....

*** Shimmer *** Shimmer *** Shimmer ***

How's that for special effects?

I represented the family of an immigrant from the former Yugoslavia. He came to this country in August 1998, after the repeal of the Illinois Structural Work Act. He was dead 90 days later.

He was doing rough carpentry work on a new home in Hinsdale. They were just starting to put frame of the home up on the day of my client's fatal accident; there were no internal walls yet constructed. The subfloor was in place, but no basement stairs had been installed. Instead, two large pieces of plywood covered the opening.

The plywood was nailed in place; otherwise it would have opened into the basement like a trap door. The general contractor was going to handle the installation of the basement stairs himself. He removed all the nails which had protected the opening, but hadn't moved the plywood off the opening when he was interrupted by a page. The contractor also owned a tavern in Cicero... and some men wanted to see him about the video poker machines that he had installed there. The contractor immediately dropped everything and took off. It would not do to keep those good fellows waiting in Cicero... if you know what I mean.

Concerning the condition of the jobsite that he left behind, the contractor's deposition testimony was, essentially, (1) I removed all the nails, but didn't move the plywood so that the opening could be seen; (2) I knew I'd created a dangerous situation, but I had to leave; and (3) I'm sorry I created a dangerous situation.

It was lunchtime. My man started to walk through the house to join the other workers for lunch.

He never made it. He dropped through the plywood trap door that was created by the contractor's removal of the nails, tumbling over as he fell, hitting his head on the basement floor. He never regained consciousness.

I was brought in for the appeal from the summary judgment awarded to the defendants.

That result may seem absurd the way I've laid out the facts... I hope it does... but my guy was not available to explain what happened and, in the vernacular, nobody saw nothing. Even if they did have a clear line of sight. And they did. However, nearly everyone on the job also hailed from the former Yugoslavia... there was a language barrier... and a pronounced reluctance, quite common among immigrants from former Communist countries, to talk to the police. And appellate counsel can only work with the record made in the trial court.

Still... I thought I had a case... a good case.

I don't know why the man's family came to oral argument. His widow, a couple of grown sons, some other relations... they all crowded around me after the argument was concluded, telling me what a great job I'd done.

It tore my guts out.

They did not understand how badly the argument went. The panel was not hostile or rude or anything... but, when I got up for rebuttal, the justice presiding closed his folder and pushed his chair back. He was done. And so was I.

I remember trying to break the news to the family, trying to find a way to tamp down their enthusiasm. I also remember that the decision came down in nine days.

Nine days.

*** Shimmer *** Shimmer *** Shimmer ***

Anyway, while the outcome was never as certain as it was in that case, I would typically leave oral argument with a pretty fair sense of whether I had a shot... or whether I'd been shot down. I wasn't always right, but I was usually right.

I watched the Trump appeal video to see if I could develop a sense about where the panel was going. No, I hadn't read the briefs. No, I hadn't particularly followed the trial. I certainly had not studied the record.

But, if the argument had gone the way that so many were claiming on X, I was pretty sure I'd be able to tell.

And I could not tell.

It's never a good sign when you catch your first question just as you finish identifying yourself. That happened to the New York AG here. And there's clearly some judicial discomfort about the scope of the statute in question and the amount of the damages awarded. But both sides faced pointed questions....

I guess we'll have to let the court speak for itself. When it decides to speak.

But don't take my word for it.

At this point, in this climate, I pretty much don't believe anything about anybody unless I see it for myself. See for yourself, if you have 50 minutes, and see what you think.

Tuesday, September 17, 2024

Happy Constitution Day! Please celebrate responsibly

(Here's a link to the above Tweet - I refuse to call it an 'X' - in case I have not properly embedded same here.)

I hope everyone remembers the story: Leaving the Constitutional Convention, Benjamin Franklin was stopped by Elizabeth Willing Powel. She had a question: "Well, Doctor, what have we got, a republic or a monarchy?"

Franklin's response? "A republic, if you can keep it."

Today is the 237th anniversary of the date on which the original Constitution was adopted. (The link will take you to a transcription of the Constitution.)

Franklin's remarks inside the hall that day are not as well remembered, but nonetheless vitally important in our current world.

Franklin was not wholly enamored of the document. He had doubts about several particulars. But he made the motion to have the Constitution adopted unanimously by the convention. And, before making that motion, he offered this observation (source):
In these sentiments, Sir, I agree to this Constitution, with all its faults, if they are such; because I think a General Government necessary for us, and there is no form of government, but what may be a blessing to the people if well administered; and believe further, that this is likely to be well administered for a course of years, and can only end in despotism, as other forms have done before it, when the people shall become so corrupted as to need despotic government.
Our government, Franklin warned, can only end in despotism "as other forms have done before it" (see, the Roman Republic) when and if "the people shall be so corrupted as to need despotic government."

On this Constitution Day, let us vow to resist corruption, so that our precious Constitution may long remain a blessing to us and to our posterity.

Time to clear off the Page One Sidebar

Updated 6/11/25 to add website links from November election....

OK... long past time.

But actual voters looking to decide which Cook County judicial candidates to support in November will be showing up to FWIW in the coming weeks. They won't necessarily know that their opportunity to make actual choices in judicial elections ended, for the most part, with the March Democratic Primary.

FWIW will be the bearer of the bad news.

Meanwhile, we'll archive the 2024 primary websites here.

A lot of these are already... gone... repurposed... pointing now to foreign casinos or other questionable sites. Click at your own risk.

But... depending on how much the candidate paid for the site, some of these sites may still be functioning a year from now. Some candidates who weren't successful this time will update their campaign websites in 2026 and try again. Readers who are looking for ideas for their own possible campaign sites may wish to (carefully) click through the list below.

November election websites:

Monday, May 6, 2024

Even if Tik Tok makes fun of it, we need to think much more about Rome

According to this article by Dani Di Placido on Forbes.com, "TikTok's 'Roman Empire' Meme, Explained," it is now fashionable, on Tik Tok, for women to "approach the men in their life and ask how often they think about the Roman Empire. Clips of boyfriends, husbands, dads, and brothers who have never stepped foot in Italy casually admitting that they think about the Roman Empire often, even multiple times per day, have gone viral on the video-sharing platform, with female creators often expressing complete bewilderment at the shared obsession."

Oh, how eccentric. The little dears!

I respectfully submit that TikTok is completely off base here. In fact, I believe that all Americans -- men, women, children, and TikTok influencers alike -- fail to think about the Roman Empire enough.

I do not mean that we should all be fantasizing about gladiatorial combat or about gorging at Roman banquets on parrot tongue stew or stuffed dormouse, although how you comport yourself in your spare time is generally none of my business.

No... I propose that we think more, and reflect deeply and urgently, about how the Roman Empire rose from the ruins of the Roman Republic in the last century before the Common Era.

Why is the fall of the Roman Republic important?

Well, until our own Republic was launched in the 18th Century, the Roman Republic was the largest, and longest-lived Republic the world had ever known. It lasted for several hundred years, if not exactly from 509 B.C. when, according to tradition, a group of Roman aristocrats, including Lucius Junius Brutus and Publius Valerius Poplicola, threw out the last Roman King, Lucius Tarquinius Superbus.

The names "Brutus" and "Publius" should be familiar to every American; indeed, the name of Brutus should be familiar to every educated person in the world: One of Lucius Junius Brutus' descendants, Marcus Junius Brutus, administered 'the most unkindest cut of all' to Gaius Julius Caesar. The assassination of Julius Caesar, on March 15, 44 B.C., was one of the final nails in the coffin of the Roman Republic (even though Brutus and his 'liberator' companions insisted -- and may have even believed -- that they were trying to save the Republic).

There is so much cinematic drama and operatic intrigue in these long ago events that we tend to focus on the personalities and forget the reasons why the Roman Republic failed. But these can be summarized fairly quickly: Increasing income inequality and intractable disputes about immigration, the assimilation of newcomers, the extension of citizenship, and voting rights.

Totally different from the problems faced by America in our time, right?

No... wait....

It is often said that the political factions of Late Republican Rome cannot be directly compared to our own, modern political parties. I'm not at all certain of this. Broadly speaking, the Roman factions in the last years of the Republic were the optimates and the populares.

This fellow, Marcus Portius Cato, or Cato the Younger, as he is better known, was an optimate.

The optimates were sometimes referred to (by themselves at least, and by later, sympathetic writers) as the boni.

Roughly translated, that means 'the Good Guys.'

Subtle, right?

This contrasted them with populares like Julius Caesar.

As a populare, Julius was heir to the mantle of the Gracchi, the doomed brothers, assassinated by their political opponents during the course of their respective tribunates in 133 and 121 B.C., respectively. My old Roman History professor, Dr. George Szemler, at Loyola, used to liken the Gracchi brothers, Tiberius and Gaius, to the Kennedy brothers, John and Robert. The Gracchi were serious land reformers, and they paid for it with their lives. The Social War, the various Civil Wars, the seven consulships of Marius, the constitutional reforms of Lucius Cornelius Sulla, the Cataline conspiracy, all came after the deaths of the Gracchi and before the rise of Julius Caesar (who claimed descent from the goddess Venus but, more practically, was Marius' nephew).

It became the custom, in those troubled years, to criminally prosecute one's political opponents. It was not enough to defeat someone; the defeated had to be convicted as well, and sent into exile. Bribery was a central component of the Roman electoral system. Politicians incurred enormous debts to get elected; the only way they could recover from electoral success was to receive a lucrative provincial governership at the end of one's term. What made a province lucrative was the revenue a proconsul might squeeze out of it for himself. Even then, this was understood as corruption. A fellow we lawyers know about, a novus homo by the name of Marcus Tullius Cicero, developed a very good practice defending these corruption cases. He built his political career on it, too.

You can make the argument, in fact, that Julius Caesar would never have crossed the Rubicon but for the implacable determination of Cato the Younger to prosecute Casear for official corruption the moment he laid aside his imperium.

The Senate (read: Cato) had planned to stick Caesar with a post-consular assignment to maintain "the woodlands and paths of Italy," but, during his first conulate in 59 B.C., Caesar got that assignment changed to the governorship of Cisalpine Gaul. The timely death of the governor of Transalpine Gaul gave Caesar the opportunity to grab a second province, and conduct the Gallic Wars (and even make a foray into Britain). Caesar managed to hold his partnership with his slightly older son-in-law, Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus, together long enough to get a second five-year term for his governorships (when Julia died, Pompey drifted toward Cato and the boni) but, after 10 years away, Caesar expected to return to Rome for a second consulship.

The 10-year interval between consulships was prescribed under the Sullan constitutional reforms. Caesar had followed the constitution.

But, unlike in 60 B.C., when he gave up the possibility of a triumph in order to declare for the consulship in 59 B.C. (much to Cato's consternation), Caesar did not want to lay down his command in order to declare his candidacy this time. Others had been allowed this privilege (Pompey, for one). It took time to arrange a triumph, and the army had to be camped just outside Rome, waiting for the appointed day. Given the precedent, it seemed reasonable to expect that Caesar would be accommodated.

But Cato thought differently.

Cato was not going to be frustrated this time... or so he thought. If Caesar wanted his triumph, he could not stand for counsel. If he gave up his triumph in order to enter the City (as the law required) and declare his candidacy in person, Cato could proceed with his long-planned prosecution. Either way, it would be the end of Caesar... except it wasn't.

While many historians today may see Cato as an unreasonably stubborn and obstinate obstructionist, and an actual cause of the Republic's downfall, Cato has, at many times, and in many places, been seen as the very personification of the old Roman Republican virtues. Less than a century after his suicide (he killed himself to avoid the indignity of receiving clemency from a victorious Julius Caesar), Virgil has Vulcan include an image of Cato "giving laws" amongst the "virtuous souls" on the shield he makes Aeneas (The Aeneid, 8:784, Fagles trans. 2006).

Cato was very popular in the 18th Century, too. Joseph Addison's Cato, A Tragedy, premiered in 1713, but it was still quite popular during the American Revolution. So popular, in fact, that George Washington had the play staged for his troops while they were in winter camp in Valley Forge. Imagine: though his command was facing frostbite and starvation, Washington wanted his men to think of Rome. Of Roman civil war and Republican virtue and the dangers of tyranny and ambition. This is what TikTok would trivialize.

You no doubt learned in school that America has a written Constitution because Britain did not. And this is certainly true.

And also incomplete.

Hopefully, you also learned in school that America has a written Constitution because the Roman Republic did not. And our Founders were obsessed with preventing their new Republic from going down the path of faction and mob violence that ultimately destroyed Republican Rome. Rome was the only real-life template the Founders had as they shaped our Constitution and our Republic.

And that is why (in case you thought I'd forgotten about it) that every American should know the name of Publius Valerius Poplicola. As New York State debated whether to adopt the Constitution that came out of the Convention in 1787, Alexander Hamilton, James Madison, and John Jay published a series of essays supporting and explaining the proposed Constitution. Their newspaper columns, which we now refer to as The Federalist Papers, were published under the collective pen name "Publius." No educated reader in the 1780s would have failed to catch the reference to Publius Valerius Poplicola, one of the founders of the Roman Republic.

Our schools don't teach much about Rome these days. Julius Caesar is a cartoon image on a pizza box. And yet we are descending into an age of hyper-factionalism, with problems eerily similar to those that brought down the Roman Republic. Political mob violence, even civil war, don't seem as impossible here as they once were.

I think it was Mark Twain who said that history may not repeat itself, but it often rhymes.

We'd all better think a lot more about Rome. And about how we can save our Republic, where Rome could not save its own.

Thursday, February 22, 2024

Looking at the Bring Chicago Home "mansion tax" proposal

The first rule of taxes is, once they are invented, they never go away.

The proposed increase to transfer taxes by the pols behind the "Bring Chicago Home" movement illustrates this proposition perfectly. But to demonstrate this, we must first jump back in time some 259 years.

In 1765, representatives of nine of Britain's North American colonies met in New York City to discuss ways in which they could protest the British Parliament's imposition of several new taxes on the colonies. Perhaps the most unpopular of these, the Stamp Act, required colonists to buy stamps that had to be affixed to any document, including deeds, playing cards, and newspapers. This act was enshrined forever in the name historians gave to this first continental gathering, the Stamp Act Congress.

You may recall hearing about this during your school days. You may even recall that the British Parliament repealed most of their colonial taxes, including the Stamp Act, the following year.

But the Stamp Act never really went away. It no longer applies to playing cards or newspapers, and it is no longer paid to the British Crown, but every time a piece of property is sold in the City of Chicago, taxes are imposed, and stamps printed and affixed to the deed, showing that the transfer tax has been paid, in order for the transfer to be legal. (The County has its own stamps, too.)

It is this tax that Bring Chicago Home proposes to increase... but only on properties sold for more than a million dollars. The tax currently is $3.75 for every $500 of sales price -- or $7,500 on a million dollar sale.

The tax would go down to $3.00 for every $500 of sales price for sales up to a million -- so $6,000 on our hypothetical $1 million sale.

But the tax would go up to $10 for every $500 of sales price for betweeen $1 million and $1.5 million. Under existing law, the City gets $11,250 from a $1.5 million sale. Under the Bring Chicago Home proposal, the City would get $16,000 -- $6,000 on the first million, $10,000 on the next $500,000.

The transfer tax would go up still more for sales of more than $1.5 million. For each $500 of sales price north of $1.5 million, the City would get $15. So, assuming a sales price of $2 million, the City would get $15,000 in stamp tax under existing law, but $31,000 under Bring Chicago Home -- $6,000 on the first million, $10,000 on the next $500,000, and $15,000 on the $500,000 after that. (For more, see this WBEZ summary of the proposal).

Anyone can see how these new numbers could add up quickly. But, if the tax only impacts folks like Gov. Pritzker, should he decide to sell his Chicago mansion, who cares, right?

A lot of people on either side of the graduated transfer tax proposal are calling this a "mansion tax." But it will apply to a whole lot more than just mansions.

A quick search this morning of chicagorealestatesource.com, a Coldwell Banker site, shows that a 58-unit SRO hotel at 2847 W. Washington Blvd. has just gone on the market for $1.74 million. A 9-unit building at 3039 N. Harlem is on the market for $1.375 million. Another 9-unit building, at 3145 N. Nordica, is also available for $1.375 million.

This 6-unit building (one storefront and five apartments) at 904 N. California, pictured at left, is available for $1.319 million. An 8-unit building (two storefronts and six apartments) at 2232 W. Irving Park Road is new on the market at $1.599 million.

For $2.2 million, according to chicagorealestatesource.com, you can buy a 9-unit building at 1143 N. Rockwell St. A 7-unit building at 3226 W. Potomac is available for $1.599 million.

There's not a Pritzker or a Rauner or a Ken Griffin living in any of these.

Not all the multi-unit buildings on chicagorealestatesource.com are listed for more than a million. A separate page of 2-5 unit buildings seems to show most Chicago listings are priced under a million. A 9-unit building at 3064 E. 79th St. is listed for $950,000. Another 9-unit building, at 7363 S. Coles, is on the market for $975,000. A six-flat, at 1854 S. Fairfield, is on the market for $875,000.

But this is more a six-flat tax than a mansion tax. And it will be people who buy and sell apartment buildings, and, ultimately, the people who rent from people who buy and sell apartment buildings, who will shoulder any burden from this proposed new tax.

The linked WBEZ article, above, links to a paper issued by some experts at the University of Chicago. The paper claims, according to WBEZ, the "tax increase’s impact on rent would be minimal with 'a unit that currently rents for $1,000 per month... likely to see an average rent increase of less than $1.'"

These are some experts. Where can anyone get an apartment in Chicago for $1,000 a month? Apartment.com recently said, "As of February 2024, the average rent in Chicago, IL is $1,777 per month. When you rent an apartment in Chicago, you can expect to pay about $1,421 per month for a studio, $1,777 for a one-bedroom apartment, and around $2,249 for a two-bedroom apartment. If you opt for a three-bedroom rental, you could pay $2,742 or more."

Opponents of Bring Chicago Home, like Protect Chicago Homes, a group of Realtors, offer a parade of horribles, about who will be taxed next, and how much, and question whether we can trust the current City administration.

And maybe these are all valid questions.

But maybe the question for Chicago voters on March 19 is not 'who will pay the next tax' but, rather, who will really pay this one?