Loyola School of Law New Orleans

Well, I am reading that Lawrence Moore, S.J., will be giving the Invocation at Loyola School of Law New Orleans this upcoming Friday, August 17, 2007. Please, please, please, will someone in attendance ask that he put his pocket anus on the podium and keep his hands away from his crotch? If for some reason Lawrence Moore, S.J., cannot keep his hands away from his crotch, maybe he should be supplied with a transparent podium so that opinions can be formed as to whether he is scratching himself or masturbating. My wife says I did the entirely wrong thing by seeking a redress of my grievances through the courts against Loyola University New Orleans. Supposedly I have an obligation to use the 'church' chain of command as Loyola University New Orleans is a 'church' school. Well, excuse me, Federal District Court Judge Sarah Vance, you cunt, if this is the case why did you not so state in your dismissal of my action rather than giving so many reasons contrary to the established law? Nope, I do not believe my wife's take on this. In my opinion, Federal District Court Judge Sarah Vance dismissed my civil action to protect her buddies, it seems as clear as day.

Coincidences

A Confederacy of Dunces
By John Kennedy Toole

I had read a synopsis of A Confederacy of Dunces soon after commenter's to my blog made statements that my story was a rip-off of this book. Unfortunately for these dunces, mine is a true story, not a story only influenced by my experiences. Interestingly, within the synopsis, if I remember correctly, is described a brawl involving lesbians. I think that perhaps I unknowingly got into a brawl involving lesbians. For some strange reason, although I do not believe that she is a lesbian, Stephanie Jumonville comes to mind.

I can remember the first lesbian that I ever met. Her name was Patty, and she was in her early twenties. (I was about 17, and sex was not only still mostly a mystery to me, it was also a mystery that I felt no great passion to unravel.) Patty regularly ate breakfast at Pete’s restaurant on West Shore Road in Warwick, R.I. Although I was not present for the drama, what I heard was that she had been eating breakfast and a guy sitting next to her asked her: ‘Hey buddy, you got a light?’ I understand the guy asked her again, accompanied by a tap on her shoulder. Pat grasped the lapels of her jeans jacket, pulled them aside, thrust out her chest, and stated: ‘Look pal, I’m a girl.’ This story was told for quite a while. Prior to my meeting Pat, my friend Billy had told me that she was a lesbian. I did not understand, at the moment that he told me, what this meant. After a while I figured it out.

Soon thereafter I met Patty. I can recall being intrigued. She was obviously a female and there was no sign on her head, or badge on her jacket, that said ‘Hi, I’m Patty and I am a lesbian.’ I found her to be friendly. Soon thereafter, some days or weeks after meeting her, she asked if I would help her and her girlfriend move their possessions from one apartment to another. I agreed. Not only did I agree because I liked her, I agreed because I wanted to meet her girlfriend. Her girlfriend was also kind of a disappointment as she had no sign on her head or badge on her jacket. I also found her girlfriend to be pleasant.

I just read the biography of Mr. Toole. He happens to be buried at the Greenwood Cemetery in New Orleans. Coincidentally, this is the cemetery where I built the brick columns that I was proud of having built. Within one of these columns, stuffed within a core hole of a brick and mortared in well, is a dollar bill wrapped in cellophane from a cigarette package, on which my wife and I wrote out that we loved one another. My wife happened to visit me on the site while I was building the columns. These are the same columns that I showed Naomi Nichols, and then later, Aurelio.

Aurelio is from Riverside, California. While at Loyola Aurelio had a friend named Daniel. I recall Aurelio did not have an automobile, whereas Daniel did. I remember this as Aurelio had mentioned it on the day I had taken Aurelio around and about. We stopped at Arby’s for lunch. Aurelio mentioned that when he and Daniel went around exploring the greater New Orleans area Daniel’s favorite place to eat lunch was at Arby’s. There were some discount coupons available at Arby’s and Aurelio took a couple of these coupons for Daniel, stating that he would like them.

What the hell is the point of this post, I don't know.

The Perfect Witness

Early on in my blog I mentioned a photocopy that Professor Baker had distributed during class about a man that had spent ten years in prison because of the false testimony of the victim. This was when Professor Baker waved his hand in my direction, actually pointing it at me, and stated: “The court was wrong, she lied.”

Well, this evening, while going through my stacks, bundles and binders furiously digging for the mother lode of my Title IX material (which I failed to find) I found the photocopy. Jennifer Thompson, the woman in the article, had not lied, she had made an honest mistake.
Sunday Advocate, Baton Rouge, La., September 24, 2000, p. 22A.

I believe that within my blog or civil action I had specified September 29, 2000 as the on or about date that this statement and action by Mr. Baker was made. Therefore, this is also the on or about date that there was a CLEP happening. On this day it was raining hard in Gonzales, Louisiana. On this day I was subjected to incredible malevolence. I discovered the damage to my vehicle the next day, which would have been Saturday, September 30, 2000.

September 29, 2000 was also another landmark day as on this night my impotence broke. I had been unable to perform since the first day of law school. I had always thought it was the stress of the major career change that I was attempting. Now I am wondering whether it was the sight of Victoria Monier/McDaniel coming down the steps that did it.

This also means that my conference with Ms. Allgood occurred on September 28, 2000. I am not at all wondering why my impotence abated.

How do you know that Mike Tyson had sex?

Pre-emptorily, my apologies to Ms. Allgood for having to relate what happened and my continued reflection on the experience.

The world will not be peaceful and safe until disarmament is complete. This may not occur until Marlene Allgood has reached menopause. Until such time, her right to keep and bear tampons cannot be taken away. Some nitwit on XOXO made the comment: "Regardless, Marlene Allgood has a strong case for libel." NOT. What an idiot. Jackass, it is the truth. The truth is a complete defense. She did it, get it?

Recently, I have been giving this incident with the tampon quite a bit of thought. My question is why would this classy woman swing a tampon under my nose? I first must set aside my simple knee-jerk presumptive opinion that the majority of female lawyers and female law students are of low moral character. Well, presuming that Victoria McDaniel is a lying slut that attempted and was successful in the completion of a preemptory 'strike' in case I did start to relate how sexually aggressive she had been, she could have said that I displayed or swung a condom under her nose. If this is among the acts that this lying slut attributed to me then I think that a more appropriate means of addressing the act could have been arrived at. For instance: asking me. At the time I would have been able to truthfully state that I had never purchased or used a condom in my life.

There are other reasons that I now think that Ms. McDaniel may have made that communication about me. In the fall of the year 2000, sometime after the incident with Marlene Allgood and the tampon, my wife purchased and brought home a condom. She asked that I use the condom. That was the single instance in my life that I had used a condom.

I had since, in the spring of 2001, bought a pack of three. I never used them, but had started thinking about it as something along the lines of: If you have no choice, when in Rome…. I am indebted to Camile Buras, Daryl Derbigny and Stephanie Jumonville, because if not for these jackasses I might have ended up using the condoms. I had plenty of opportunities.

Something else I finally figured out: The reason that there was a pattern of sexual aggressiveness interspersed with relative quite was because this woman, Victoria McDaniel, wanted me to chase her. She couldn't figure out that when I said I was not interested in sex, and made no sexual overtures, I really meant it.

In hindsight, I can now see that to most males that have never used a condom in their life that when one woman swings a tampon under your nose and then that males wife brings home a condom and asks him to use it, Victoria McDaniel wanted to have sex with somebody. This kind of thing must happen all the time. It is kind of like the question: How do you know that Mike Tyson had sex?

Carlotta/Carlena

I remember this one dumb woman at Loyola School of Law, Carlotta or Carlena was her name. I believed she was of a mixed Spanish-Asian descent. I only mention this so that a mental image can be formed.

One day I walked into the Pine Street Café. Carlotta was sitting towards the back near the kitchen, in a booth against the wall, on the right, and facing me. We made eye contact. Carlotta/ Carlena began to move her head from side to side in a rhythmic manner while uttering the noises da duh, da duh, da duh, similar to the background soundtrack I had once heard in a cartoon wherein a herd of elephants, or other animal generally viewed as moving ponderously, was marching single file and the soundtrack was meant to convey the idea that these elephants were oblivious to the world around them. I approached her and stopped to face her at her table. I stated: "I couldn't hear the rocks from back there." A blank look came over her face. I stated it again and this time she got it.

That Carlotta/ Carlena was attempting to insult me by her act was not lost on me. The apparent insult was that I was dumb and oblivious to what was going on around me. Unknown to Carlotta/ Carlena, I was not at all oblivious to what was going on around me, I just wanted no part of it. This is why the woman was dumb, she did not understand the KISS principle. That is Keep It Simple, Stupid. Simply, why doesn't a married man not have sexual intercourse with any person other than his spouse? Da-duh, because he is married.

I am not attempting to imply that Carlotta/ Carlena and I had any conversations of great length prior to or after this. I had only spoken to the woman once or twice. Her action on this day only confirmed what I had thought when I had observed her in a clutch of hens apparently engrossed in some deep subject and they glanced at me too frequently.

You can take that rotten box and keep it,
Cause baby I don't need it.
Frank Zappa (actually referring to the television)

Privacy and DNA samples

I have previously touched on the following incident.

On or about February 5, 2003, Detective Jerry Mitchell of the Louisiana State Police visited me at my home in relation to series of murders in the Baton Rouge area. On the previous Friday two cars, presumably of Louisiana State Police, had been at my home. I was at work. According to one of my neighbors, these two cars had sat parked in front of my home for quite some time. When I had arrived home that evening, before I found Detective Mitchell's card in the door, my neighbor had hailed me and informed me of this. Detective Mitchell's card had a notation on it that he was investigating a series of murders.

I went on line to learn about the serial murders. I knew very little about them. I was able to discover the dates on which these women were murdered or last seen alive. I went to my file cabinet and started digging through my receipts. I was able to place myself about a hundred miles from the location of where one murder victim was found about an hour and a half before she was last seen.

Another murder victim, Pam Kinnison, I believe, had disappeared from her home, in the evening, on or about November 20, 2002. On this date I had been home most of the day except for went I went to Radio Shack or Auto Zone. I had put a new computer and pigtail in my pickup. I had to connect the wires from the pigtail to my existing wire harness. Rather than simply use crimp type connectors, I had elected to solder each wire connection together and cover each connection with shrink tube. I had been out in my driveway, working on my truck, from early in the afternoon until about midnight. I live in a neighborhood where the houses average 20 feet apart. My driveway is in the front. My neighbors had to see me out there.
After Detective Mitchell arrived at my home he began what I believe would be accurately described as a standard interview, which is a mild interrogation. I presented my receipts to him. He was curious as to why I had all these receipts. I explained to him that I had been a carpenter and saved my receipts for tax purposes.

He asked me my whereabouts on May 31, 2002. I did not have any receipts ready for this day as this date had not been reported as being a date {not that I had found) with any significance related to the serial murders. [However, it is likely that I was studying for law school exams on that date.] After Detective Mitchell left it occurred to me that this date represented some hold back information, that is, information law enforcement does not report for investigative purposes. Now, I believe that it is possible someone, likely Victoria McDaniel, with great specificity placed me in Baton Rouge or the surrounding area on that date. In hindsight, rather than present Detective Mitchell with any receipts I should have told him go screw himself as I had not been within 40 miles of Baton Rouge between the first week of December 2000 and around or about October 15, 2002. [I work and shop, practically live, in the opposite direction, that is, New Orleans.]

At or near the end of the interview Detective Mitchell asked me for a DNA sample which he wanted to collect from my mouth with a swab. I told him no. He retorted he could get a court order. I told him to go ahead, he had no probable cause. This is the reason for the title of this post. Not only had I not committed any serial murders, I have never committed any murder. Furthermore, I do not do anything that a sample of my DNA could be of interest or use to anybody. I was not about to give up anything just because some jackass from the Louisiana State Police wanted it.

I then told him about what had happened to me after I went to see Fred Defrancesh in the fall of the year 2000. I described the vehicle for him. I was attempting to give this idiot a heads up on what was going on here. If he had gotten my name from somebody, it was from a person that had an interest in having me cast in a false light. I suspected that Detective Mitchell was recording the conversation based on his apparent adjustment of something in his breast pocket inside his jacket. I think that it was a leather jacket.

In any event, after Detective Mitchell left I was greatly relieved. I now knew the who and the why of why people had been following me, I was a 'person of interest.' I did not know the why of why I had become a 'person of interest.' These people that had been following me had been doing so prior to the disappearance of Pam Kinnison. It occurred to me that it was a fact that Detective Mitchell would have known that not only did I not have anything to do with these serial murders, I generally did not even go in the direction of Baton Rouge.

This is when I decided to sue Victoria McDaniel. This lying slut must have had something to do with everything that had gone down in my life. It was just a matter of proving it. Little did I know at this time how corrupt the Louisiana Judiciary is.

Asbestos or Cement with that J.D., sir?

I sat adjacent to Lori and J.R. in one of my classes. Lori and I had eaten out away from the school on a few occasions. I found her to be pleasant. I was not particularly concerned with any ulterior motives she may have had for seeking my company. That Lori sought my company is the way it was, and it began at orientation.

Just to explain this, I had entered one of the orientation sessions and there were not very many seats left. Among the remaining open seats the woman in the seat next to this seat looked at me, smiled, and patted the armrest of this empty seat. I went and sat next to her. I then learned her name was Lori.

Professor Medina was hosting this orientation session. Oddly, part of her introduction was informing the group that she was in good shape. This was the first time I observed her effusiveness {crow-like flutterings accompanied by big smiles.} Professor Medina also had some comment about a second bite at an apple. The woman was slightly strange.

Moving along. I believe the following incident happened in my final semester. I believe Lori, J.R., and I sat in the same row in professor Rault’s evidence class. {We had also sat in the same row in the class of Harges, the criminal law scholar.) J.R. mentioned going out to lunch. The group was going to be him, Lori, me and a woman that I knew by name, but forget now. With a wink J.R. told me it had been all arranged. I attached no particular significance to this.

After the class was over we exited the building. The woman that was going to lunch with us met us in front of the building. The driving arrangements were discussed. It was decided that I would go with this woman and J.R. would go with Lori. I did not mind her driving. Generally, when I went to lunch with Lori, we took her car. She preferred this and I did not mind, so I had no objection to allowing this other woman to drive.

We arrived at the restaurant. There was a big puddle in front, about 15 feet across. The woman that I had driven with wondered aloud how she was going to get across. I told her to lift her arms slightly and I put my hands under her armpits and carried her across. I held her out in front of me. I was quite strong at the time.

We entered the restaurant and were seated. A conversation ensued in which I learned the woman’s husband was a doctor. Lori commented that this woman’s husband had made some small conversation about whether it would be preferable to eat cement or asbestos insulation. Lori looked at me and asked: “Would you rather eat cement or asbestos insulation?” I replied: “Asbestos, for the roughage.”

These people were just a barrel of laughs.

The Twilight Zone Breakfast Club

I have previously touched on the following incident.

I tried out for the moot court team. It occurred to me that these people were all lawyer wanna-bes. Which is not to say that some of them were not great people, but that they would use whatever legal means necessary to gain an advantage. As I have previously related, 29 people tried out and 28 people were selected. I was not selected. I suspected I would not be selected which is why I had to do a superior job. I was determined to make these people answer one day. As this does not appear as something that is going to happen, I will have to settle for second best, which is telling what they did.

Immediately on reading the hypothetical, I knew where the blame, if any, for the accident should fall, other than my client. I typed out a somewhat lengthy list of questions and possible answers that directed attention away from the object of my attack. The questions that I typed out were all directed at my witness. Then I waited.

I chose Martin Lang for my witness. Most people that had a witness recruited a friend. I paid Martin Lang $80.00 and all he could drink at Fat Harry's. I chose Martin Lang for a number of reasons that I do not care to elaborate on. Martin did not disappoint me. When I decided that I was going to pay a witness, I made the conscious decision that I wanted an employee. This fact has an effect on the rules. That is, I had a reasonable expectation that my employee would not share confidential information, an expectation greater than that expectation that I would have had, had I an acquaintance that I could have asked to be my witness for the competition.

The opportunity arose to disseminate my diversion. Stacey Miller, I believe her name was, asked me about the moot court competition. This happened at the Pine St. Café,' outside on the patio, one afternoon. I forget her exact question or questions, but the opportunity arose that I could give her my diversion. I delivered the questions and answers to her on a floppy disc. I just had to now hope that my fake plan of attack would be further disseminated to those people that were to be my opponents for the moot court competition.

The date and time arrived for my turn to compete. Martin Lang took the stand. Martin appeared out of sorts on this day. I had anticipated this. As Martin was my witness and had been identified as such to the coordinators of the competition I believed that a reasonable expectation would have developed that I was going to question him. Further, I had prepared a series of questions that went somewhere and attempted to demonstrate his lack of culpability. Furthermore, I had elaborately prepared Martin for his role, including giving him his background, how much he earned, what his hobbies were and why, and so forth. I passed on the opportunity to question Martin. The puzzlement on the faces of some of the other people in the room was actually a thrill, I hate to admit it.

I rose to question the object of my attack, the EMT. Jimmy was playing the role of the EMT. I hammered him. I stayed at least 10 feet away from him and I had him looking frightened. [Opposing counsel could have objected that I was badgering the witness, but none of us had any prior experience at this, as far as I knew.] I could have laughed out loud. I asked permission to approach the witness. I stepped right up to Jimmy and with a big smile apologized for my aggressive questioning. I asked his permission to ask him three more questions. When I was done with Jimmy it was apparent to the jury that this weak, lazy, self-serving EMT had been responsible, if any responsibility could be assigned, for the death of his partner, an EMT that had run off of a cliff in the dark, attempting to come to the aid and rescue of my client. This was an absolute thrill; I do not believe that it gets any better than that.

When I walked out of the building Jesse Beasley was on the sidewalk, apparently preparing to leave. Jesse was one of the people that I spoke with fairly often. He was a good guy. I began speaking with Jesse. The person that had been the Judge for the competition exited the building. I glanced at him. He was just standing there, looking at me. This was all the confirmation I needed that I had done a superior job. I looked at Jesse. He looked down at the ground and stated: "_________, these people have to travel together." I felt like clapping him on the shoulder and telling him not to worry about it.

Jesse turned to walk away. I asked him: "Did Kimone have a copy of my questions?" Once again Jesse looked down at the ground. When he looked back up he was facing away from me and had started to walk away. I felt like calling out after him and telling him that this was okay also as I had meant for the questions to be disseminated. Kimone had not demonstrated, during her turn to question, any reliance on any of my questions. It really would not have mattered if she had. When I had given the questions to Stacey Miller I had purposefully remained silent on what my expectations were that she was going to do with them. I had carefully thought about this and could find no violation of the bull feces honor code.

Maurice Ruffin, or his wife Tanzinika, had sat as a member of the jury for this competition. A day or some days after the competition Maurice stated to me: "_______, we didn't even see that." I believed that he was referring to my exposure of the EMT as a person culpable, if any culpability was assignable, for the death of the plaintiff's spouse. If he was not referring to this, then I have no idea what he was referring to.

When I was approaching the school for my turn at the competition, Maurice Ruffin had asked me: "Hey, _________, what's up with the Men in Black outfit?"

ROTFLMMFAO

PS I came across an article in a newspaper a year or so later about a case that had been decided, or was in consideration, where the facts paralleled the facts as presented within the hypothetical situation for this moot court competition. The question occurred to me whether law firms or law schools use cases that present interesting legal questions for moot court competitions to see what comes of it.

In Requiem:

Loyola University New Orleans
Loyola School of Law
I can make spaghetti.
I can make a lamp.
Lawrence Moore, S.J., I could tape your buns together and nobody would ever notice any difference.

Pepe LeCespul

Geez, I could go on and on. Yesterday, two more incidents occurred to me. Here is one of them.

In the fall of the year 2001, during orientation for Loyola Law School New Orleans, I had quite a bit of attention paid to me. More so than the beginning law student would expect.

One of the large group meetings was hosted by a Professor LeCesne, I am reasonably certain* of the professor’s name. During this meeting, which was held in a third floor auditorium, this professor waved his hand in the direction of the area in which I was seated and stated the word “Trash” three times. I do not know for a fact that this one word statement was directed at me as this professor did not have the balls to state my name when he stated the word, he also did not have the balls to point directly at me.

If this professor was indicating me he should have stated my name. Identifying somebody as trash is not defamatory. Identifying me by name or pointing directly at me would have given me the opportunity to at least question why this professor would identify me as trash in front of 200 or so of my classmates. If LeCesne was indicating me, who was the trash in this situation?

I wonder whether any of the other students present at this orientation thought that Professor LeCense was referring to me when he made this series of one word comments.
I wonder if this colored their perception of me?

*I am now beyond reasonable certainty. It was LeCesne.


In Requiem:

Loyola University New Orleans
Loyola School of Law
Lawrence Moore, S.J., Second Fellatist in Command

Relentless

I just cannot give it up. There is actually quite a bit more to tell. I can still report quite a bit more before I actually have to go into any more details about the sexual harassment, specifically which person said what and when.

Some commenter to my original blog asked why did all these women want to have sex with me? The answer is that I do not believe that they did. [2-17-2007 I am no longer sure what the heck I believe about the motivations of these people.] Whether these women, and in some cases males, actually wanted to have sex with me is irrelevant to the issue of whether what they did constitutes sexual harassment.

I am going to be reposting my original blog, Judicial Malfeasance, as long as possible, on other free blog hosts. My objective, obviously, is to ensure the possibility that eventually when a web search is done for either of these law schools my story will come up. This is not going to end until the person that raped me has been arrested.