Jeremy's Weblog

I recently graduated from Harvard Law School. This is my weblog. It tries to be funny. E-mail me if you like it. For an index of what's lurking in the archives, sorted by category, click here.

Wednesday, August 14, 2002

To get back on track with the law school theme... here's a short comedy sketch based on a horrible nightmare I had last night. It's called: "First Day of Law School."

First Day of Law School

Lights up on a classroom. Lots of students who look really smart. They all wear glasses. Two pairs. One on their eyes and one on their foreheads. That wasn't really part of the nightmare. But it sounds funny now so I'll run with it. A teacher -- oops, I guess I mean professor -- stands at the front of the classroom. He's wearing three pairs of glasses. No, make it four!

And that, my friends, is the meaning of life. Any questions?

An overeager student -- let's call her "Target Practice" -- "Betsy Target-Practice" -- shouts out a question.

Will that be on the final exam?

Yes, Ms...

He checks his seating chart.

PROFESSOR (cont'd)
...Target-Practice. That will be on the final exam. Which is right now.

The professor hands out the final exams. Spotlight on me. I don't have a pen.

Uh oh.

I frantically search for a pen. In my knapsack. In my pocket. In my sleeve. But I'm out of luck. And then, a brainstorm. I grab a pen from the pocket protector of my neighbor. Because smart people who wear two pairs of glasses always have pocket protectors, and always carry extra pens.


I take a copy of the exam. I begin to write. But the pen is out of ink. Once again, I am frantic. But I get an idea. I take the point of the pen and stab myself in the arm, letting out a small trickle of blood. I have the blood drip into the ink-holding compartment of the pen, where it begins to collect. I am home free.

What a relief.

I open the test booklet and read the instructions. In big bold letters it reads, "No Red ink. Black or Blue ink only." I think to myself -- "Many of my classmates come from extraordinarily wealthy families. You might say they are... blue-blooded."


And as I reach over towards the boy sitting next to Betsy Target-Practice -- we can call him Jimmy Donated-Library -- and get my hand into the pen-stabbing position, I wake up. And realize it's only a dream. And resolve to watch more TV and stop reading about law school and the horrors of the Socratic Method. Because I am poisoning my subconscious. And I'm sure Wanda Legacy-Admission would agree.