Word Search Jurisprudence

Longtime readers of my blog know that I follow goings-on at the U.S. Supreme Court far more closely than the average American. This is simple logic when aspects of your own life depend on the goings-on at the U.S. Supreme Court far more than the average American. (Not that my interest is solely self-interest.)

When early this week, a draft opinion by Samuel Alito overruling Roe vs. Wade was revealed, I was not surprised. You didn't have to really be that much of a "court watcher" to know how this was going to go: for years, Republicans have told us they want to stack the courts with people who would overrule Roe vs. Wade. They were telling us directly, not dog-whistling, not slyly signaling -- boldly declaring their intentions.

But being inoculated from the surprise did nothing to mitigate the rage. That's in large part because this particular draft as written by Alito seems specifically calibrated to provoke rage. It is such a work of legislation masquerading as legal thinking, so much the very thing "originalist" conservatives decry, that it boils the blood.

Alito goes on for nearly 100 pages, but the summary of what he wrote is basically: I did a word search on the Constitution and "abortion" isn't in there. This sort of disingenuous approach to law is par for the course from Republican-appointed judges these days. I'd point out that if legal analysis was really this simple, there's seemingly no need for all the education lawyers and judges get. But then, they don't necessarily get it these days, which is why more and more Republican-nomiated judges are rated as "Not Qualified" by the American Bar Association.

The truth, of course, is that Alito and other extremist members of the Supreme Court simply stop reading the law at the point that suits them -- that point being 1787. They'll endlessly dive into the background and thinking of the framers who wrote the original document... but somehow, the 17 times we've amended the Constitution since then, the intentions of those lawmakers, just don't seem to be as important.

The 14th Amendment was about abolishing slavery, yes. But it was written knowing better even than we understand today exactly what slavery meant. When those lawmakers wrote about what it meant to "deprive any person of life, liberty, or property," they knew exactly what kind of deprivations were routine for slaves. Slaves were separated from their families, not permitted to have families, forced to bear offspring, and far, far more... "indignities" is a woefully insufficient word. Can anyone be said to truly have their "liberty" in the face of that? If they don't have privacy, or self-determination? The "word search method" of Constitutional law eschews even the simplest kind of thought exercise, because if you did so, you'd get an obvious, different answer.

And what's especially galling here, a disingenuous rot at the heart of this claim to prize "the words of the Founders," is that you have to explicitly ignore some of their words to get there. Those first 10 Amendments that were there from the very beginning? You never hear conservatives talking about the 9th. (Or frankly... any other than the 1st, 2nd, and 10th.) "The enumeration in the Constitution, of certain rights, shall not be construed to deny or disparage others retained by the people." That's stating in very specific terms that you can't "word search" the Constitution -- just because it's not specifically in there doesn't mean it's not in there.

When the real ruling in Dobbs v. Jackson Women's Health Organization comes down in a few weeks, I'm sure that dissenting justices will say all of that far more articulately than I. (And with a more enlightened legal foundation. These are the things you do when you actually care about "showing your work.") Sadly, the words will be a dissent.

"Word search" jurisprudence will go on to strip more and more rights away in the years ahead. Popular opinion won't limit how far they go; leaving Roe and Casey in place is favored by around 70% of the U.S. population -- even in red states -- but they're striking it down anyway with a fervor and glee that oozes "what are you gonna do about it?"

The only way to stop these draconian judges is to stop voting for the Republican candidates who put them on the bench. Don't wait for them to come for the particular law that you think will impact you personally. For one thing, they will eventually. Moreover, this law, right now, affects you personally.

Code to Joy

Game designer Vlaada Chvátil is best known for elaborate board games with elaborate themes -- Dungeon Lords, Galaxy Trucker, and the like. But he does occasionally produce simpler games where the theme is hardly important at all. And apparently in those cases, his go-to theme is "spies." So it was for his earlier Sneaks & Snitches, and so it is with his latest, Codenames.

Codenames is a party game where players divide into a red team and a blue team. 25 cards are dealt into a 5x5 grid, from a deck of hundreds of English nouns. One player from each team then looks at a randomly chosen map card that (by position) identifies a third of the word cards in the grid for the red team and another third for the blue team. These cards represent "agents" with whom the teams are attempting to "get in contact"; these are the words the team is trying to guess.

The single players from each team take turns giving one word clues that point to the cards their team is after. Efficiency is rewarded, because each team can keep guessing multiple word cards -- until they guess a word that isn't one of their targets. Thus, the clue givers are trying to give one word clues that apply to multiple words the team is after. But the clue givers must also take care not to be too general. Any word card belonging to the opposing team is scored by them, no matter who guesses it. And one word represents the "assassin," which everyone wants to avoid. A team that exposes the assassin loses the round.

The spy veneer disappears instantly from this game once you start playing it, so if flavor's what you're looking for here, you may be disappointed. But I think it likely you won't be disappointed, as the game itself is quite a brain tickler. Somehow, Vlaada Chvátil has been able to take the rough idea of Password or Taboo, give it a pseudo-visual aspect, and the compress the tension. The result is a completely different game.

The deck of words is hundreds of cards tall, and double sided. Yet it is clearly "curated" in a way that puts many possible multi-answer clues into play. "Heat" could be a valid clue for both "Degree" and "Phoenix." "Performance" could be a valid clue for "Stage" and "Bow"... and maybe, if you're stretching, "Cycle." But the trick as clue-giver is not just to connect your words in inventive ways, but to avoid connecting any "enemy words" (or the dreaded assassin word). It's quite challenging, and quite fun.

One possible drawback of the game is that it's considerably more fun to give the clues than it is to guess them. It can also take a lot of time, as the clue givers agonize over the perfect clue. There is an optional timer you can use to speed the action... though employing it feels like it might short-circuit the core fun of the game. That leaves me with the vague impression that this game works best if you've got, say, 8 or more people willing to commit to one party game for a long time -- and who don't mind filling the inevitable waiting time with conversation. Or it might be fine if not everyone playing wants a turn in the clue-giving hot seat. It's probably great for four players in two teams of two, where everyone can spend equal time giving and guessing. (But then, it's probable that with just four of you, you wouldn't want to play a "party game.")

Still, there are many in my circle of friends who really enjoy clever wordplay, and who all seemed quite taken with Codenames. I have no doubt it'll be seen again at future group gatherings. I give it a B+.

Dear Google News Feed...

Hyphens matter. (Click image for full size.)

Weapons of Mispronunciation

Speaking of politics (as I was yesterday), I actually get a little enraged whenever I hear one of our politicians say "nuke-ya-ler," as opposed to the correct "nuclear." I don't direct this at any one politican in particular, though I don't think you need me to point out a few well known ones who do it all the time.

I think some of them might actually do it on purpose because some handler told them it sounds "folksy" or some crap. It doesn't. What it does is make them sound four years old. This is like a toddler referring to his or her pasta as "skabetti" or "pasketti." When you're under the age of about eight, this sort of thing is cute.

When you're a full grown adult, and ostensibly one of the people whose job it is to keep us safe from weapons you can't even pronounce correctly, you sound mentally deficient to me.

This isn't a "COO-pon" vs. "CYU-pon" thing, or a question of whether you call it "pop" or "soda." There is only one pronunciation of the word "nuclear," and anyone who can't get it right shouldn't hold public office.

Two Faced

Tonight was another of those rare occasions that put me at a Major League Baseball game. It was the first night of the Rockies' final home stand of the season. As usual, I spent more time looking anywhere but the game itself.

The theme of the evening was "Fun with the Scoreboard." For example, there was this presentation for one of the players:


The thing that gets me here is, the photo in back (at the left) and the photo in front must be of the same guy. And yet, they look nothing alike. The background photo looks more like the Shroud of Turin to me than the player at the right.

Sadly, I wasn't fast enough with my camera to snap a picture of the misspelled caption "Cerimonial Opening Pitch," which must have been wrong all season long.

V for Victory... Sort Of

Poor Pyrrhus of Epirus. How much would it suck to be famous for basically snatching defeat from the jaws of victory? Well, okay, so that's not quite what happened, but the bottom line is, he is synonymous with "a victory that doesn't feel like a victory." Being famous for that totally cancels out the cool factor of still being known over 2,000 years after you were alive, if you ask me.

And yes, dpending on your political leanings, there are all sorts of modern ways you could twist the phrase. A Gore victory? An Iraq victory? Take your pick.

Selling Like Hotcakes?

Exactly where are these unbelievably large numbers of hot cakes being sold? The only place I know of that actually calls them "hot cakes" is McDonalds, and they're not exactly flying out of there like... well...

Enforcers

This road sign can't be right.


Speed monitored or checked by aircraft, I believe. Enforced? What, is a fighter going to strafe the road in front of you if you go too fast? Is a helicopter going to come land on top of your car?

A Light on the Subject

As a game designer and enthusiast, I have often been involved in discussions about the difference between a "sport" and a "game." Usually, these conversations get started when the subject of televised poker comes up -- specifically the fact that the World Series of Poker is covered on ESPN.

I've never made the claim that just because ESPN covers it, it must be a "sport." Strangely, though, people have come after me on the attack about this before, as if I'm somehow validating it as a sport for watching it on that network. Like it matters to me who is carrying it; I've watched poker on the Travel Channel, NBC, the Game Show Network, ESPN... pretty much whoever has it. Anyway, point being: I do not think poker is a sport.

Though I'd never considered the sport/game question where Disc Golf is concerned, I saw something at the course tonight that made me develop a new litmus test for this issue. I've decided this:

It can't be a sport if you can smoke leisurely while playing it.

I saw two guys on one of the tee pads, each with a cigarette in hand. In turn, they oh-so-casually held the cigarette in their mouths as they whipped a sidearm drive off toward the basket, then flicked their ashes as they walked off slowly toward their discs. Nothing about the way they were playing made it look in any way like an "activity," and yet they weren't throwing that badly at all.

So, like I said, the thought came to me: "clearly, not a sport." (Well, the first thought was, "they'd better not throw their butts down on the ground when they finish," but... you know... after that...)

By the smoking test, bowling definitely fails. I'm pretty sure regular golf does too. (The fact that you probably couldn't find a club that would let you smoke while you were playing doesn't change the fact that you easily could.) Curling? Not a sport.

On the other hand, I've heard some people quip that horse racing is a sport only for the horse. But the smoking test says otherwise. I'd like to see a jockey enjoying a casual cigarette while participating in the Kentucky Derby. Not a chance. Ergo, sport.

Auto racing? Well, lots of people smoke while they drive, but I don't think you could so leisurely while driving one of those cars. Sport it is, then.

That's my new definition, until someone burns a hole in that theory, anyway.

Spelling Counts

I acknowledge that if you're engaging this woman's services, it's going to be real estate related and not spelling related:


Nevertheless, I still wouldn't be encouraged to know that she's "never to busy for referrals." In fact, I'm fairly sure that the closest interpretation of the actual spelling here would be that she never gets occupied by referrals. So I guess don't bother.

I Can't Understand a Dicky Coming Out Of Your North

For 101 ways (well... more) to completely obscure the meaning of something you're conversing about, I suggest "Cockney Rhyming Slang." Don't know what that is? Here's some enlightenment. When you're all set, here's a "dictionary."

As for why anyone would want to talk this way? Sorry, I haven't got a link for that.

What's in a Name?

I have never seen this movie, The Guy with Secret Kung Fu. But I've decided it might possibly have the most perfectly terrible title of any movie ever made. Alright, granted, it's a translation, but what a translation!

First of all, "Kung Fu" is in the title. From the song "Kung Fu Fighting" to the most famous line of Keanu Reeves' career ("I know kung fu!"), this martial art has become a punch line. I'm sure anyone who knows it could kick my ass just as expediently as someone who knows another combat form, but it's still funny, pure and simple. Aikido -- cool. Kung fu -- funny.

But better still, it's Secret Kung Fu. At least, it's secret up until he starts booting some heads. At that point, I think the secret is pretty much out. But ooooo.... doesn't it sound cooler when it's secret?

And then, not "The Warrior" with Secret Kung Fu, or even "The Man" with Secret Kung Fu. No, it's "The Guy" with Secret Kung Fu. Which is barely one notch from "Some Guy" with Secret Kung Fu. You can be "The Man," but you can't be "The Guy." Not even "The Guy with Secret Kung Fu."

It's like one of those evocative six word stories. The Guy with Secret Kung Fu. Brilliant.

Think of the Children

It's that time of year, when many students are finally graduating from high school, college, what-have-you. A friend of mine recently sent me a news story from Dallas/Fort Worth, of a group of high school students in organized protest because their failure to pass a standardized test was keeping them from walking through the commencement ceremony.

Now ordinarily, I'm not one to put much stock in test scores as a measure of intelligence. But this news story was accompanied by an image of a couple of the protesting students. Take a look at the sign on the left:


"Let Are Kids Walk"??? Dam strait -- give them they're just deserts four awl there hard work.

I'm not sure whether to laugh or shake my head. Or both.

A Matter of Time

Sarcasm just doesn't work well in print. Case in point, this Letter to the Editor published in an Arkansas newspaper a month ago:


Now maybe some snobby prejudice of mine about people from Arkansas (despite the fact I don't personally know any) made me jump to this conclusion, but I swear my first reaction was: what a complete moron! But then I thought twice, and went to the ultimate arbiter of urban legends, Snopes.com. They've got the full story on this letter. Sarcasm. Apparently, from someone who has been known to write these sorts of sarcastic missives to newspapers and such.

Well, all very clever. But I say be careful. One must be very precise in using sarcasm in writing. It's much less ambiguous when spoken.

I say this even though I'm a big fan of sarcasm. No, seriously. Really, I am.

Inscrotable

Those of you not up on the world of children's literature may not have heard of the Newbery Medal -- but then again, some of you might have, as it's basically the Pulitzer of the genre. This year, the award was given to the book "The Higher Power of Lucky," by Susan Patron. I haven't read it. I don't have any plans to. So why did this get my attention?

Ah, the power of words. (For those without online NY Times access, a less detailed version of the story is here.) On page one, the author has included the word "scrotum," much to the apparent outrage of people from sea to shining sea. And my mind is practically paralyzed by the various responses I have to this.

The book won a Newbery Medal. I read a few winners of this award back in the day, and they were all very good. So can anyone allow for the possibility (probability) that there's some good content in this book if you can just get past page one and into the real meat of it?

Who does the author think she's kidding? She says in this article that this was based on a true incident involving a friend’s dog. But she's clearly just trying to be controversial and push some paper to put a passage like this in the book: "Scrotum sounded to Lucky like something green that comes up when you have the flu and cough too much. It sounded medical and secret, but also important." Come on, but that's just primed to make a kid wonder "what's a scrotum?"

Assuming they don't already know. I'm pretty sure I knew by that age. Granted, that could be a matter of gender. I'm just saying, there are some parents out there totally deluding themselves about what some of their kids do or don't do, know or don't know, say or don't say.

And even if you are offended by the use of such a word in a children's book (which you personally are entitled to be, if it's your kid you don't want reading it), a response like this one from a teacher in Durango, Colorado is preposterous: "This book included what I call a Howard Stern-type shock treatment just to see how far they could push the envelope, but they didn’t have the children in mind." Howard Stern? Puh-lease.

And by the way, I love, love, love that the picture of the author in that article shows her dog sitting next to her. Perfect.

Exposed Clubbage

Here's a new term that my game group is contributing to the lexicon:

Cardstrophobia: the fear of having your cards too close to you, thereby instead showing them to the players sitting immediately on either side of you.

One of the players in my group is particularly prone to cardstrophobia. But then again, he just clobbered us at the game we were playing, so it doesn't seem to be impacting his daily life.

Nothing Profound

For a while, I'd hoped that my last post of 2006 might be something special -- some grand look back at the year, as it pertains to me, or my readers, or what-not. But I discovered a profound lack of anything profound to say. Not to mention, for this blog, it would be just as appropriate to go out this year the same way I came in -- talking about random crap. And so...

Why the hell do people call good food "rib sticking?" That makes no sense to me at all. If your ribs are sticking into your stomach such that they can actually come into contact with your food, you have far more important issues demanding your attention than the quality of your meal.

Is it supposed to refer to the actual eating of barbeque ribs, the way the sauce is sticky and gets all over your fingers? Is there no other food considered "good" anywhere on the face of the Earth?

Is it supposed to be some kind of very subtle dig on the anorexic? Something like, "looking at you is like looking at an x-ray, but perhaps if you would stick some of this food to your ribs and cover them up... by which I mean from the inside, you know -- ingestion?!"

Happy New Year, everyone.

Watching Language

I find the way English morphs to be utterly fascinating.

In my circle of college friends, we use the word "pumpkin" as a verb.

It started out when we took to mocking each other for going to bed too early on nights when we were together playing games or what-not: "What, is your carriage turning back into a pumpkin already?"

From there, a shorter form later developed: "It's Pumpkin Time for me."

Now we're just down to: "Where's [name]?" "He pumpkined."

Pumpkin makes a pretty good verb, really. Especially at this festive, pumpkin-y time of year. (See, it's an adjective too!)

Offhand Remark

I realize this blog has been nothing but TV talk all week. (What do you expect, though, with the new fall season starting up?) For those who feel a little left behind, here's a short anecdote to tide you over until the "balance" returns to Heimlich Maneuvers.

My uncle is an athletic coach at a high school. He once told me a short story about a time his starting quarterback injured his right hand -- his throwing hand. One of the kid's teammates tried to stick up for his bud, though, arguing:

"No, it's okay, coach! He can still play -- he's anorexic."

The "Out of Context Quote of the Day" #2

"I don't know how much more I'm going to get out of playing with myself and trying these little massages."

-- spoken by yours truly

(For the context, click into the comments thread)