On August 11, 2006, a petition was filed with the United States Trademark Trial and Appeal Board of the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office wherein six Native-Americans seek to invalidate the Washington Redskins trademark held by Pro-Football, Inc. The petition claims that the term “redskin” is overtly derogatory and injurious. This follows a similar filing from 1992; a final decision is still pending.
This latest salvo in the fight to eliminate Native-American caricatures as sports Mascots has stoked the fires of debate. On one side you’ve got the Native-American community that claims such mascots and nicknames perpetuate negative stereotypes and are blatantly hostile. On the other side you’ve got dozens of college and professional sports teams who assert the right to coin whichever name they choose. Fans of these teams cite tradition and identity as the driving force to maintain these mascots and nicknames.
Schools such as Arkansas State, University of North Dakota, University of Louisiana at Monroe, University of Illinois, and Florida State continue to take heat for their use of Indian imagery for their respective sports programs. In August 2005, the NCAA banned the use of Native-American mascots during post-season tournaments. Some schools, even in the face of sanctions that would prevent participation in any official post-season championship tournament, have chosen to fight to retain their mascots. Arkansas State and the University of North Dakota remain staunchly defiant while other schools, St. Johns, ULM, Northeastern Oklahoma State University, and others have either changed or are mulling mascot changes. The NCAA Continues to be adamant about the ban. A few high profile programs have won appeals to retain their nicknames; Florida State, Utah, and Central Michigan. The University of Illinois Fighting Illini has appealed multiple times but to no avail. Illinois may eventually have to surrender its beloved Chief Illiniwek.
On April 13, 2001, the United States Commission on Civil Rights issued a position statement that called for the removal of all Native-American mascots from team sports. “The stereotyping of any racial, ethnic, religious or other groups when promoted by our public educational institutions, teach all students that stereotyping of minority groups is acceptable, a dangerous lesson in a diverse society. Schools have a responsibility to educate their students; they should not use their influence to perpetuate misrepresentations of any culture or people…The fight to eliminate Indian nicknames and images in sports is only one front of the larger battle to eliminate obstacles that confront American Indians. The elimination of Native American nicknames and images as sports mascots will benefit not only Native Americans, but all Americans.”
At the heart of the debate is the legal framework upon which claims of discriminatory or hostile representations of Native-Americans are constructed. The NCAA has the legal authority to ban schools from post-season competition but not the authority to compel name change. Only the individual states that preside over their respective state-run university systems can dictate such changes. The fight to force private institutions and independently owned sports franchises to change their monikers has a legally deleterious effect. If the government through legislative edict or judicial fiat eliminates the use of Native-American imagery for private sports entities based on a tenuous application of Constitutional law the ability of private institutions to remain autonomous is compromised. This is not a bridge we as a sports culture can cross.
When examining this debate think in terms of what’s best legally, not philosophically or even morally. No one would feel comfortable with sports teams called the Niggers, Spicks, Slopes, Whaps, Kykes, Porch Monkies, Jungle Bunnies, Chinks, Slats, Beaners, Wet Backs, Red Necks, Hebes, Sand Niggers, etc. It is a given that many Native-Americans view the portrayal of their culture as an overt attempt to hold down their people, as would any sensible ethnic minority should any of the above epithets be used to name a sports team. But if a team is a wholly private entity then can we really dictate to them how and in what fashion they can name their teams. If you object to a state-run program referring to itself in a racially derogatory way then by all means assert your tax payer rights. If you object to a privately run sports team’s allegedly defamatory nickname then exercise your right as a consumer and don’t buy the ticket, merchandise, sponsor’s products, etc. Organize a boycott, speak out, or shut up. The American system of jurisprudence is not capable of deciding such matters efficiently, nor should they be expected to compel the wholesale reversal of innate stereotypes or prejudices.
On a personal level I find the Washington Redskins mascot to be distasteful and can sympathize with those Native-Americans who cringe at the very mention of Daniel Snyder’s team. But it’s not my place or my desire to force the National Football League to change this particular trademark.
As the Native-American community, the NCAA, individual universities and colleges, and professional sports franchises fight this one out I take solace in the fact my beloved Denver Broncos and Colorado Buffaloes nicknames offend no one… except those nitwits at PETA…don’t even get me started on those dumbasses.
Journey into Hell
And just when people thought they truly knew or knew of the most twisted figures in all the history of the world, along came those sadistic few responsible for crafting the Colorado Bar exam. I’ve never been subject to the infamous rectal exam but I envision it is not dissimilar to the act of intellectual sodomy that is the bar exam.
If you want an idea what sitting for the damn thing is like wake up at 5am. Drink cold coffee, eat a stale doughnut, and find an antiseptic environment. Just pull up a chair at your table and do the New York Times crossword puzzle or sudoku or any other exercise designed to screw with the intellect. On Day 1, for your added pleasure, and to prepare you for the essay portion, go out to your driveway, have a family member or friend park the car on your head, do the crossword, and let the car sit there for 3 ½-4 hours. Then Day 2.
Repeat the morning ritual of bad coffee, doughnut, the whole smack. Go to your sterile environment and do the mental gymnastics of your choice. Now, every two minutes, get up, walk to the nearest door, open it, put your head in, grab the handle, and slam the door on your head. Repeat this EVERY two minutes one hundred times or for 3 ½ hours, which ever comes first. Take a 90 minute break for lunch then do it all over again. Break for lunch then repeat.
The following step must be followed on both days; for added atmosphere, find the one person with the harshest, shrillest voice you can find, have them stand behind you the entire time and scream, “You’re a dumbass! You’ll never pass! Give up now!” Now wait two months for the test scores.
And people wonder why attorneys are megalomaniacal or overtly uptight.
I truly wonder who writes these tests. They are the personification of pure evil. They have no reflection.
Here’s my vision of those responsible for putting fledgling attorneys through such rigor.
Imagine a dark room. The only light comes from two candles at either side of a stone alter at the end of the ominous space. On the alter appears to be a Black’s Law Dictionary, a copy of the United States Constitution, the Model Penal Code, and a sundry of other legal journals and treatises. Twelve figures clad in black robes with hoods obscuring their faces enter and form a semi-circle in front of the alter. The mysterious figures begin chanting in a foreign tongue, but the words Mammon and Baal can be easily recognized. The chanting grows to a fever pitch and a door behind the alter opens and out strolls a high priestess. She rounds the stone edifice and stands silently in front of the trappings of law. The chanting subsides and the priestess grabs the law dictionary and holds it high while she shouts an incantation in Latin. She repeats this with all the items on the table.
The room darkens and a faint hum is heard. Suddenly the air is violently torn apart and the Prince of Darkness himself now floats menacingly over the alter. This version of Satan is not the heavily muscled red devilish figure seen in the movie Legend or Hellboy but a more congenial and cerebral vision, perhaps Al Pacino in Devil’s Advocate.
“Ahhhhhhhh, my favorite time of year, bar exam time. Now, I’m a busy man so I’ll need help writing the questions.”
Beelzebub grabs the Model Penal Code and touches it to his forehead, ostensibly to channel the negative energy necessary to properly delegate such an important task. “Whom shall I choose? I need a natural fit to write criminal law multiple-choice questions and an essay. Hmmmmmmmmmm…I’ve got it…Hitler, you seem familiar with everything criminal. Have at it!”
The Devil grabs the Constitution and repeats the ritual. “Who knows conlaw? Ah yes, Richard Nixon, please come forth.” Nixon oozes out of the floor and the Devil hands him the Constitution. “You’ve seen this before. Make me proud.”
“Whom shall pen contracts questions?” The Devil pauses, and snatches a copy of the Uniform Commercial Code off the table, “I need someone who knows about deals gone wrong…anyone seen Faust? Hehehe, bet you’re feeling like a dumbass right about now. Here, let me see if you’ve learned anything.”
“I need a sufficiently dire soul to write some property questions…ohhhhhhh Genghis Khan, would you be a dear. After all, you did conquer more property than any body in history.”
“Now who has a keen grasp on evidence…it’s a toss up between Jeffrey Dahmer and Al Capone. Both are adept at concealing evidence, both in their idiosyncratic fashion, but who am I to judge. I’ll flip a coin…heads it’s Dahmer…get it, hah, I’m so clever. Tails! Capone, you rapscallion, knock ‘em dead.”
“Jeffrey, don’t go anywhere, I have a feeling you may yet have work to do.”
“Torts! I love when the old ladies and children die needlessly. Who’s twisted enough to think this shit up? Heh, perfect…would the Marquis de Sad please step this way. Man, I thought I was a hedonist. Make the body count and severed limbs really gruesome yet contemporary."
“Those who have been assigned the multiple choice please write an appropriate essay question, the more convoluted the better.”
“But wait, there’s more. I nearly forgot the Colorado state essay topics. There are so many but I can only pick four or five. Bah, I’ll have my minions craft these.”
“Corporations is intriguing. The name that comes immediately to mind is a recent addition to Hell and we’re darn pleased to welcome him…Ken Lay, you corporate charlatan, you’d be great at drafting a corporations question.”
“Charles Manson, will y…he’s not dead yet? Damn! OK, I need another familial figure to write about sticky divorces. Henry VIII, I assume you know matrimonial law and other areas of family law.”
“Now the complicated and horribly dry part…civil procedure. I think the Grand Inquisitor Torquemada knows a bit about procedure…not that he bothered to pay attention or afford the accused a chance but he has the traits necessary to pen a really good question…he’s ruthless, inquisitive, and a master of logistics.”
“Oh Mr. Dahmer, I’ve left you with a doozey. Please write me a truly juicy wills question. Just evoke the imagery of dozens of dead family members and the sticky mess their deaths leave behind. I’d have Anna Nicole write the wills portion but she ain’t in hell yet.”
“I’m tired now, I’ll assemble the test tomorrow. ‘Night kids!”
END SCENE
DISCLAIMER…The events depicted in this writing are purely fictitious. Any resemblance to real-life occurrences is purely coincidental.
If you want an idea what sitting for the damn thing is like wake up at 5am. Drink cold coffee, eat a stale doughnut, and find an antiseptic environment. Just pull up a chair at your table and do the New York Times crossword puzzle or sudoku or any other exercise designed to screw with the intellect. On Day 1, for your added pleasure, and to prepare you for the essay portion, go out to your driveway, have a family member or friend park the car on your head, do the crossword, and let the car sit there for 3 ½-4 hours. Then Day 2.
Repeat the morning ritual of bad coffee, doughnut, the whole smack. Go to your sterile environment and do the mental gymnastics of your choice. Now, every two minutes, get up, walk to the nearest door, open it, put your head in, grab the handle, and slam the door on your head. Repeat this EVERY two minutes one hundred times or for 3 ½ hours, which ever comes first. Take a 90 minute break for lunch then do it all over again. Break for lunch then repeat.
The following step must be followed on both days; for added atmosphere, find the one person with the harshest, shrillest voice you can find, have them stand behind you the entire time and scream, “You’re a dumbass! You’ll never pass! Give up now!” Now wait two months for the test scores.
And people wonder why attorneys are megalomaniacal or overtly uptight.
I truly wonder who writes these tests. They are the personification of pure evil. They have no reflection.
Here’s my vision of those responsible for putting fledgling attorneys through such rigor.
Imagine a dark room. The only light comes from two candles at either side of a stone alter at the end of the ominous space. On the alter appears to be a Black’s Law Dictionary, a copy of the United States Constitution, the Model Penal Code, and a sundry of other legal journals and treatises. Twelve figures clad in black robes with hoods obscuring their faces enter and form a semi-circle in front of the alter. The mysterious figures begin chanting in a foreign tongue, but the words Mammon and Baal can be easily recognized. The chanting grows to a fever pitch and a door behind the alter opens and out strolls a high priestess. She rounds the stone edifice and stands silently in front of the trappings of law. The chanting subsides and the priestess grabs the law dictionary and holds it high while she shouts an incantation in Latin. She repeats this with all the items on the table.
The room darkens and a faint hum is heard. Suddenly the air is violently torn apart and the Prince of Darkness himself now floats menacingly over the alter. This version of Satan is not the heavily muscled red devilish figure seen in the movie Legend or Hellboy but a more congenial and cerebral vision, perhaps Al Pacino in Devil’s Advocate.
“Ahhhhhhhh, my favorite time of year, bar exam time. Now, I’m a busy man so I’ll need help writing the questions.”
Beelzebub grabs the Model Penal Code and touches it to his forehead, ostensibly to channel the negative energy necessary to properly delegate such an important task. “Whom shall I choose? I need a natural fit to write criminal law multiple-choice questions and an essay. Hmmmmmmmmmm…I’ve got it…Hitler, you seem familiar with everything criminal. Have at it!”
The Devil grabs the Constitution and repeats the ritual. “Who knows conlaw? Ah yes, Richard Nixon, please come forth.” Nixon oozes out of the floor and the Devil hands him the Constitution. “You’ve seen this before. Make me proud.”
“Whom shall pen contracts questions?” The Devil pauses, and snatches a copy of the Uniform Commercial Code off the table, “I need someone who knows about deals gone wrong…anyone seen Faust? Hehehe, bet you’re feeling like a dumbass right about now. Here, let me see if you’ve learned anything.”
“I need a sufficiently dire soul to write some property questions…ohhhhhhh Genghis Khan, would you be a dear. After all, you did conquer more property than any body in history.”
“Now who has a keen grasp on evidence…it’s a toss up between Jeffrey Dahmer and Al Capone. Both are adept at concealing evidence, both in their idiosyncratic fashion, but who am I to judge. I’ll flip a coin…heads it’s Dahmer…get it, hah, I’m so clever. Tails! Capone, you rapscallion, knock ‘em dead.”
“Jeffrey, don’t go anywhere, I have a feeling you may yet have work to do.”
“Torts! I love when the old ladies and children die needlessly. Who’s twisted enough to think this shit up? Heh, perfect…would the Marquis de Sad please step this way. Man, I thought I was a hedonist. Make the body count and severed limbs really gruesome yet contemporary."
“Those who have been assigned the multiple choice please write an appropriate essay question, the more convoluted the better.”
“But wait, there’s more. I nearly forgot the Colorado state essay topics. There are so many but I can only pick four or five. Bah, I’ll have my minions craft these.”
“Corporations is intriguing. The name that comes immediately to mind is a recent addition to Hell and we’re darn pleased to welcome him…Ken Lay, you corporate charlatan, you’d be great at drafting a corporations question.”
“Charles Manson, will y…he’s not dead yet? Damn! OK, I need another familial figure to write about sticky divorces. Henry VIII, I assume you know matrimonial law and other areas of family law.”
“Now the complicated and horribly dry part…civil procedure. I think the Grand Inquisitor Torquemada knows a bit about procedure…not that he bothered to pay attention or afford the accused a chance but he has the traits necessary to pen a really good question…he’s ruthless, inquisitive, and a master of logistics.”
“Oh Mr. Dahmer, I’ve left you with a doozey. Please write me a truly juicy wills question. Just evoke the imagery of dozens of dead family members and the sticky mess their deaths leave behind. I’d have Anna Nicole write the wills portion but she ain’t in hell yet.”
“I’m tired now, I’ll assemble the test tomorrow. ‘Night kids!”
END SCENE
DISCLAIMER…The events depicted in this writing are purely fictitious. Any resemblance to real-life occurrences is purely coincidental.
I'm sooooo back, with a vengeance...bitches
Man, did the Colorado Bar Exam ever suck. It was truly the most perverse act of forced intellectual sodomy ever contrived. But it is done, now the interminable wait until mid-October to find out if I can join the elite fraternity that's responsible for spreading so much love & Joy.
Now for some quirky Shrubesque observations from the past couple months...
A friend sent me this link of a psycho German kid playing my favorite first-person shooter. Man, I thought I was obsessive. This kid needs a sound pummeling from dear ol' dad. On a tangential note, if that keyboard still works it must be made by Tonka.
Morg, Billy D, where are the TT posts? I give you guys the keys to this ride and you let it sit in the garage?! Freakin slackers!
I'm contributing to a new sports oriented web site. Check it out and let me know what you think. I'll ad the link to my list of haunts.
I've joined the ranks over at MySpace.com. What can I say, I love high school chicks.
Somewhere Jamie R is crying.
And here I thought Barbaro was bad off. Seems this intrepid equine would look at the Kentucky Derby winner and say, "Pussy!"
What the fuck are the British thinking?!
My beloved home town has some really stupid elected officials and government employees.
And all is right with the world once again. I'm so giddy I could dance like that sissy who does the River Dance schtick.
Another in the Americana file. This suave mofo killed a whole lotta people. Kinda makes you proud to be a Colorado native.
For all you home schooling zealots...
The further sterilization of the English language...a bitch is a bitch and by any other name would smell just as sweet.
Now for some quirky Shrubesque observations from the past couple months...
A friend sent me this link of a psycho German kid playing my favorite first-person shooter. Man, I thought I was obsessive. This kid needs a sound pummeling from dear ol' dad. On a tangential note, if that keyboard still works it must be made by Tonka.
Morg, Billy D, where are the TT posts? I give you guys the keys to this ride and you let it sit in the garage?! Freakin slackers!
I'm contributing to a new sports oriented web site. Check it out and let me know what you think. I'll ad the link to my list of haunts.
I've joined the ranks over at MySpace.com. What can I say, I love high school chicks.
Somewhere Jamie R is crying.
And here I thought Barbaro was bad off. Seems this intrepid equine would look at the Kentucky Derby winner and say, "Pussy!"
What the fuck are the British thinking?!
My beloved home town has some really stupid elected officials and government employees.
And all is right with the world once again. I'm so giddy I could dance like that sissy who does the River Dance schtick.
Another in the Americana file. This suave mofo killed a whole lotta people. Kinda makes you proud to be a Colorado native.
For all you home schooling zealots...
The further sterilization of the English language...a bitch is a bitch and by any other name would smell just as sweet.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
